“No, I’m not obliged to begin working,” Meredith said.
It was not necessary to enter into explanations, and to tell her how his mind was occupied. And, as a matter of fact, he remained very quiet all next day en attendant the great event and privilege of being allowed to walk across the hall to the drawing-room, and disport himself from chair to chair at his pleasure. From time to time during the day he did, indeed, take up the broken thread where it had dropped from him and try to tack it on to something. But he could not do it. He traced himself along the road from Mimpriss’s with Janet on his arm, in the faint lamplight; but at the door he found himself stopped short. One word more would complete the task—one link and he would know all about it, as Janet did, who would never say what it was: but upon that link he could not get hold.
The event of the afternoon was accomplished with great success. He walked unassisted, though feeling as if his legs did not quite belong to him, into the drawing-room, the ladies rising to receive and admire him, as if he had been a child taking its first walk.
“Why, he’s a perfect Hercules!” cried Mrs. Harwood. “He walks as well as any of you. Thank God, my dear boy, that you have got on so well. I think we may feel that you are out of the wood now.”
“Oh, don’t encourage him too much, mamma! He won’t be kept down. He is too venturesome. Fancy, nurse tells me that he has been thinking—actually thinking all day.”
“How very unguarded of him!” said Mrs. Harwood, with a laugh. And then the usual circle was made round him, and the tea poured out to refresh him after his exertion.
It was while the bread-and-butter was going round that Priscilla, the parlor-maid, came into the room which was so pleasant with firelight and smiling faces, and announced that the detective wanted to speak to the gentleman—Dolff’s name was very well known since this inquiry had begun, but it was still to “the gentleman” that this official asked to speak.
“He thinks he has found out something now,” said Priscilla with a faint sniff of scepticism.
Priscilla sensibly thought that a man who had been on this job for so long and had discovered nothing was a poor creature indeed.
“Who is the gentleman that is wanted?” said Meredith. “It is Dolff, I suppose, as the man of the house. But why should Dolff be bored with this?—it is my business if ever any business was. Mrs. Harwood, may we have him in here?”