"I don't think, Miss Duggan—it's a policeman's business to know," he retorted; and then set about his task, while those others in the fateful room crowded about the open window and stood looking down at him with blank, unhappy faces.
Carefully he measured their length with his little foot-rule and noted the size down in his pocketbook. Then he fitted one of his own slim feet into the indentation, saw that it was rather larger and broader, stepped back upon the courtyard and faced them, all clustering about him, with serene countenance.
"A fair-sized boot, ladies and gentlemen," he remarked; "quite a fair-sized boot! Number tens, if I know anything of sizes. And looks like hunting-boots, too. Evidently a chap who rides. Now, this Captain Macdonald, Lady Paula——"
"One of the finest horsemen in the country," she returned, with a shrugging of shoulders and an uplifting of brows.
"Ah! Just so. That was what I imagined when I saw—when I encountered him here in these grounds last night. Light of foot, and the proper build, too. He'll no doubt be along in the course of another three quarters of an hour (if Jameson doesn't have a dickens of a job locating him), so in the meanwhile, if Mr. Narkom is willing, we'll take a little turn together and talk over things, and then come back to you here in the allotted time. Willing, Mr. Narkom?"
"Perfectly willing."
And so it came about that, arm in arm, the two friends went off together down by the wide driveway that led to the great doors of wrought-iron which Rhea so ably guarded, and Cleek, stopping in the pathway, pointed up to the statue etched out against the sky in sinister outline, and told Mr. Narkom the story of it.
"Cinnamon! But what a magnificent thing it is!" ejaculated that gentleman with awe, when the tale was finished. "That's something to be proud of—eh, old chap? Now, if I had a fellow like that for an ancestor there'd be no living with me at all! These old families!—there's certainly something in this thing they call Birth and Race—though for the life of me I never can make it out."
"No," thought Cleek, with a smile, "you wouldn't." But he said nothing, merely passed on toward the iron gates, and seeing that they had been left ajar, clanged them to sharply behind them.
"He'll ring his great bell when the latch falls—that's his ceremonious way of welcoming the coming and speeding the parting guest," threw in Cleek with a laugh. "I'm going to shove down the latch now, so watch him, my friend. Here goes!"