“Bod—” said Herr Löffner out of his chest. “If you haf here a life-and-death-works—I cannot understand. If you make of it life-works, you telegraph and I come. But if it is a death-works—what then?”
“It won’t be,” said Senhouse. “It can’t be. Good-bye.” Herr Löffner went to his dinner.
At Wraybrook Park his lean face was announced to Duplessis at half-past ten in the morning, at the breakfast-table, by a respectful butler. It was not told him that it had awaited him since eight o’clock.
“Some one to see me—in the drive?” he had asked, suspecting nothing. “Why in the drive?”
“The gentleman preferred to be outside, Sir. He had a dog with him.”
Duplessis stared at his plate. “All right. I’ll come in a minute,” he said, and resumed his meal.
At eleven he came out of the front door, cigar in mouth, and saw immediately what was in store for him. The carriage drive at Wraybrook sweeps round the lake, which is the great feature of the place. On the edge of that he had seen in a moment the tall man in grey, bareheaded, talking with one of the gardeners, and had flushed. His eyes narrowed, and glittered; he paused perceptibly, then drew a breath and went down over the lawn.
Bingo, sitting up on his haunches, gave a short yap of warning, then apologized to his master. Senhouse finished what he had to say to the gardener, nodded and went up to meet his man.
They encountered without recognition: Bingo, with lifted forefoot, reserved his judgment. His custom was to run in and apply the test of nose to calf; but in this case he stayed behind.
“You wish to see me, I’m told.” Duplessis spoke first.