[Chapter XXII]
The Second Attack
Mrs. Smith was accustomed to her master’s occasional freaks in the matter of dinner. Her husband, aided by long experience, knew whether Brett’s “immediately” meant one minute, or five, or even fifteen.
This time he gave his wife the longest limit, so, in addition to the chicken, a bird whose unhappy attribute is a facility for being devoured with the utmost speed, a mixed grill of cutlets, bacon, and French sausages appeared on the table.
The diners were hungry and the good things were appreciated. It was well that they wasted no time on mere words. They were still intent on the feast when a boy messenger brought a note. It was from Helen, written in pencil:
“David was coming to see you when he was attacked. Can you come to us at once?
“H.L.
“P.S.—David is all right—only shaken and covered with mud. It occurred five minutes ago.”
“Dear me!” said Brett. “Dear me!”
There was such a hiss of concentrated fury in his voice that Winter was puzzled to account for the harmless expression the barrister had twice used. The detective knew that his distinguished friend never, by any chance, indulged in strong language, yet something had annoyed him so greatly that a more powerful expletive would have had a very natural sound.
Brett glared at him.