“My mate is waiting outside,” he said gravely, “and I have got a dog-cart handy. I have a warrant here for your arrest, sir.”
“For my arrest?” cried Pelham.
“Yes, Sir Richard, for your arrest on suspicion of having murdered the late Sir Piers Pelham.”
The words fell on Dick’s ears without at first conveying any impression. The man repeated them.
“You had better come quietly, sir,” he continued. “As I said just now, I have a trap outside, and if we drive off at once to Haversham station we can take the next train to town. Anything you say now, sir, will be used against you, so you had best be silent.
“Stop a minute. I must think,” said Pelham. He took off his soft cap and put up his hand to his forehead as if to brush away some hair. His brain was in a whirl, but his first consecutive and clear thought was for Barbara. When she returned home that night he would not be there; she would miss him, she would wonder what had become of him.
“Of course there is a mistake,” thought the young man. “I don’t quite comprehend it, but Barbara, whatever happens, must not be frightened.”
He turned and looked at the man who had come to arrest him.
“I will go with you, of course,” he said. “The matter will doubtless be cleared up immediately, but I should like first to leave a note for my wife. Do you permit it?”
“Yes, sir, provided I come with you to the house.”