“Yes. He’s been here for a day or two, consulting with Maurice about these medallions.”
“Well, if he can throw any light on this business, I suppose we’d better let him in and see what he has to say. You needn’t go, Joan. You may as well hear his story, whatever it may be.”
He turned to the keeper.
“Let Mr. Foss in, Mold; and wait outside the door yourself.”
CHAPTER VI.
Mr. Foss’s Explanation
Mr. Foss had nothing distinctively American in his appearance, Sir Clinton noted; and when he spoke, his accent was so faint as to be hardly detectable. He was a stout man of about fifty, with a clean-shaven face and more than a trace of a double chin: the kind of man who might readily be chosen as an unofficial uncle by children. Sir Clinton’s first glance showed him that the American was troubled about something.
Foss seemed surprised to find the Chief Constable in the guise of Prospero. He himself, in preparation for an official interview, had exchanged his masquerade costume for ordinary evening clothes.
“We haven’t met before, Sir Clinton,” he explained, rather unnecessarily, “but I’ve something to tell you”—his face clouded slightly—“which I felt you ought to know before you go any further in this business. I’ve been hunting all over the house for you; and it was only a minute or two ago that I got directed in here.”
“Yes?” said Sir Clinton, interrogatively.
Foss glanced at Joan and seemed to find some difficulty in opening the subject.