Abbershaw returned to his post in the brewhouse, and, after doing all he could for the still unconscious Prenderby, settled down to await further developments.
He had given up reflecting upon the strangeness of the circumstances which had brought him, a sober, respectable London man, into such an extraordinary position, and now sat staring ahead, his eyes fixed on the grey stone wall in front of him.
Wyatt remained where he had collapsed; the others had not addressed him, realizing in some vague subconscious way that he would rather that they left him alone.
Abbershaw had forgotten him entirely, so that when he raised himself suddenly and staggered to his feet the little red-haired doctor was considerably startled. Wyatt’s face was unnaturally pale, and his dark eyes had become lacklustre and without expression.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I had a brain storm, I think – I must get old Harcourt Gieves to overhaul me if we ever get back to London again.’
‘If we ever get back?’ The words started out of Abbershaw’s mouth. ‘My dear fellow, don’t be absurd! We’re bound to get back some time or other.’ He heard his own voice speaking testily in the silence of the room, and then with a species of forced cheerfulness foreign to him. ‘But now I think we shall be out of the house in an hour or so, and I shall be delighted to inform the county police of this amazing outrage.’
Even while he spoke he wondered at himself. The words and the voice were those of a small man speaking of a small thing – he was up against something much bigger than that.
Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of Martin with the now conscious but still dazed Kennedy. The four prisoners remained quiet, and after the first jerky word of greeting and explanation there was no sound in the brewhouse, save the crackling of the fire in the great hearth.
It was Abbershaw himself who first broke the silence. It seemed that they had waited an age, and there was still no audible movement in the house above them.
‘I hope he’s all right,’ he said nervily.