"By all means."
Cleek followed the Captain out of the room and into the drawing-room, now empty save for the guard in question, a big man in soldier's uniform who saluted as they came up to him.
The Captain spoke first:
"Marshall, this gentleman would like to know if any one came in here last night," he said, quietly. "Speak out."
"No, sir." The man's voice was rough and emphatic. "Only yourself—and that but for a moment."
"Myself?" Captain Digby's voice registered utter amazement. "You're dreaming, man. I was never down here last night, I'll swear——"
"Beggin' yer pardon, but yer were, sir," responded Marshall, stoutly. "You just switched on your torch, saying you'd forgotten something, and was in and out before you could say Jack Robinson. You've 'ad so much on your 'ands, sir, it's no wonder you forget. Nothin' wrong, is there?"
Cleek's quick voice interposed before the Captain had time to reply, but his dazed, blank face answered for him.
"No, Marshall, there's nothing wrong at all. Everything, in fact, is quite in order. The Captain forgot, I expect. That's all I wanted to ask you. Better come along upstairs, Digby. I'd like to have a word with your father when I come down, but if you'll be good enough to show me the way upstairs now——"
The dazed look was still upon the Captain's face as he led Cleek upstairs, and at sight of it that gentleman gave vent to a low, amused laugh.