“I’ll call him, sir, at once. He’s out somewheres on the grounds, sir. And I’ll have a fire lit in no time, sir. He’ll be very pleased to see you, sir, will Jonas.” She stopped at the end of the hall and sank her voice to a hoarse whisper. “I fear he’s getting old and failing, Mr. Ethan,” she said despondently. “It—it’s his head sir.”
“Eh?”
“Yes, sir. Along in June it was, Mr. Ethan, or maybe early in the month following, sir, that he came in quite excited like and wild, saying as he had seen you with his own eyes over toward the grove there. Yes, sir. ‘Jonas,’ says I, ‘it’s the sun.’ ‘No, ’taint,’ says he. ‘I saw him with my own eyes,’ says he, ‘a-standing under the trees. And when I looked again he was gone,’ he says. It gave me quite a shock, sir, as you might say.”
“Naturally. And since then you have observed no other symptoms?”
“No, sir, not particular, but he do seem a heap fonder of his victuals than he used to, and I’ve heard tell as that’s a sure sign of a failing intellect, Mr. Ethan.”
“In the case of your victuals, Mrs. Billings,” replied Ethan, “I’d say it was an indication of wisdom.”
The housekeeper bridled and beamed.
“But, really,” continued Ethan, smiling, “I wouldn’t worry about Billings. The fact is, I was down here for a day or so about the time you speak of.”