"A lady to see Colonel Stanistreet, sir—by appointment, she says."
Blensop glanced at the card. At the same time Stanistreet came in from the garden, leaving Stone to potter about visibly in the distance.
"Miss Brooke is here, sir," the secretary announced.
"Ask her to come in, please."
The footman retired.
"Howson is resting easily, Dr. Apthorp reports," Blensop added, going back to the safe. "Has Stone turned up anything of interest, sir?"
"Footprints," Stanistreet replied with a snort of moderate impatience.
"He's quite upset since I've informed him the man who made them is—"
"Good God!"
The interruption was Blensop's in a voice strangely out of tune.
Stanistreet wheeled sharply upon him.
"What the deuce—!" he snapped.