"He's in London," said Marion Black, "buying supplies."
"Is Johnson here?"
"Yes, sir," said the respectful voice of the pale-faced old man. "Very much at sea, if you'll allow me, Mister Chester."
"They haven't told you, Johnson?" I asked incredulously. "You must think us all mad!"
"No, sir," said he promptly, "I give you my word I don't, sir. Had it been one or two of you, why then I might fancy you'd gone off your respective rockers, as you might say, sir; but six of you—that's different."
"What do you think, then, Johnson?"
"I think there's something big going on, sir," said the old man. "Something fearfully big. With poor young Mister Exeter blind, and you a-lying here like this—what is it, sir? They told me you were the proper one to explain."
"Johnson," I said, grinning, "that's the first time I ever heard your voice express anything but well-bred deference."
Johnson coughed and, I imagine, looked at the floor with embarrassment. "Very strange circumstances, sir," he said.