Gimblet was all eagerness. Here at last he seemed to be off on a definite scent, and he leapt to it all the more keenly for last night’s check. The door had not closed upon the driver of the taxi before the detective had decided in his mind more than one question requiring an answer. First, he would take Higgs, secondly, he would not take Sir Gregory. He tiptoed along the passage, and noiselessly turned the handle of the pantry door.
“Higgs,” he said, “I am going out to have a look at a certain house. I may want you. Get ready to come. I give you three minutes.”
As quietly, he repaired to his own bedroom, and going to a cupboard made a rapid selection of various small articles, which he stuffed in his pockets. Then, opening a drawer, he took out a Browning pistol, and that also was stowed away. He stood an instant in the middle of the room with his head on one side, tugging absently at his ear. Had he forgotten anything? Ah, he knew what it was, and springing back to a shelf he seized and added to his collection a box of chocolates. “One never knows when one will get back from these sort of jaunts,” he said to himself, “and I have been very hungry before now on my hunting trips.”
One more look round satisfied him that he had everything he could imaginably need, and he returned to the hall, where Higgs was waiting by the door.
A minute more and they would have got clear away, but at the very instant that Gimblet, hurrying quietly towards his servant, snatched at his hat and lifted it to his head, the library door opened, and Sir Gregory’s pink and anxious countenance peered out on him.
“Mr. Gimblet,” he cried, “where are you off to? The taxi man brought news then; and you would go without telling me! No, don’t let me delay you,” as Gimblet paused, hesitating, “I will come with you wherever you are going, and you shall tell me on the way,” and grasping his hat and stick, the baronet prepared to accompany the others.
There was no help for it, and the detective surrendered at once. Indeed, the anxious face reproached him, and he knew he had been patently a little less willing to endure Sir Gregory’s society than was, under the circumstances, altogether charitable. The poor man’s distress, though it made him rather a depressing companion, bore witness to the kindness of his heart and was if anything a circumstance entirely to his credit; and the accident that he bored Gimblet ought not really to be allowed to prevent him from participating in the rescue of his friends, if rescue there were to be.
“Come along, Sir Gregory,” said Gimblet.