"You ought to know better than to talk to me like that, Mr Morice. After what you've just now said it's my duty to tell you that you're my prisoner."
CHAPTER XXXIV
[MR DAY WALKS HOME]
It chanced that night that Mr Day, the highly respected butler at Exham Park, paid a visit to a friend. It was rather late when he returned. The friend offered to put him into a trap and drive him home, but Mr Day declined.
"It's a fine night," he observed, "and a walk will do me good. I don't get enough exercise out of doors. I like to take advantage of any that comes my way. I'm not so young as I was--we none of us are; but a five-mile walk won't do me any harm. On a night like this I'll enjoy it. Thank you, Hardy, all the same."
So he walked.
It was just after eleven when he reached the village. Considering the hour he was surprised to find how many people there were about. Mr Jenkins had just turned his customers out of the "Rose and Crown." A roaring trade he seemed to have been doing. A couple of dozen people were gathered together in clusters in front of the inn, exchanging final greetings before departing homewards. For the most part they were talking together at the top of their voices, as yokels on such occasions have a trick of doing. Mr Day stopped to speak to a man, with whom he had some acquaintance, in the drily sarcastic fashion for which he was locally famed.
"What's the excitement? Parish pump got burned?"
"Why, Mr Day, haven't you heard the news?"
"That Saturday comes before Sunday? Haven't heard anything newer."