The man hesitated, not wishful to offend his master’s friend, but too well trained to reveal the explicit instructions given him by Sir Charles Dyke.
“Do not be afraid. I will explain everything to Sir Charles personally. We cannot best judge what to do—whether to wake him or not—unless we know the position,” went on the barrister.
Thus absolved from blame, Thompson took from his waistcoat pocket a folded sheet of notepaper.
“I don’t pretend to understand the reason, sir,” he said, “but Sir Charles wrote this himself, and told me to be careful to obey him exactly.”
The barrister eagerly grasped the note and read:
“If Mr. Bruce, Jane Harding, or Mrs. Hillmer should call, admit any of them immediately. To all others say that I have left town—some days ago, should they ask you.
“C. D.”
White, round-eyed and bullet-headed, gazed with goggle orbs over Bruce’s shoulder.
“That settles it, Mr. Bruce,” he said. “We must see him.”
“Thompson,” said Bruce, “does Sir Charles usually lock his door?”