“No,” he said, hesitatingly at last, “I can’t say I did. I don’t remember seeing anyone.”
“And then?”
“Where was I? Oh, yes, I sat down. It was rather hot; and I thought I’d like a seat. I meant to sit there and smoke a cigar before looking round the Maze. I sat there for a while, I don’t quite know how long. Some time, at least. And then I may have fallen into a doze. The sun was very hot, even when I was in the shade of the hedge, you understand? It makes you sleepy. I suppose I dozed off. Perhaps I was asleep for quite a while.”
“You can’t give me anything more exact than that, can you, Mr. Shandon?”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t. It was quite a while, though, I feel pretty sure of that.”
He put out his hand towards the tumbler again.
“I really think I’d get on better if I had another drink.”
Sir Clinton looked at him with unconcealed distaste. Then he picked up the tumbler himself.
“Two fingers then.”
He went across to the window and poured away the surplus from Ernest’s generously filled glass.