"A sudden spasm--nothing more," he said. "I shall be better presently."
"Shall I get you a glass of water?" asked Pringle.
Van Duren shook his head. "I have been taken like this once or twice lately," he stammered. "I must talk to my doctor about it."
Mrs. Bakewell came in to lay the cloth for supper. This seemed to rouse him. "I shall not want any supper; I've changed my mind. You need not bring it in," he said. Then turning to Pringle, "To what place did you say that Mr. Byrne and his daughter were gone?" he asked.
"To Marhyddoc, in North Wales."
"Some little fishing or bathing place, I suppose--quiet and salubrious, suitable for an old man like Mr. Byrne. Strange, though, that they never told me they were going. You don't know, Pringle, do you, what their particular reason might be for choosing Marhyddoc, out of all places in the world?"
"I don't know that, sir; they gave no hint on that point," said Pringle. "But I know this for a fact, that old Mr. Byrne was no more deaf than you or me, sir; that his long white hair was nothing but a wig, and his hump nothing but a sham; and that when he liked he could be as active on his feet as any gentleman of fifty or fifty-five can be."
Max Van Duren sat and stared at his clerk like a man thoroughly stupefied. "How do you know all this?" he said, speaking in a low, hoarse voice.
"Because I've seen it with my own eyes," answered Pringle. Then he told him all about the Euston Square episode.
"But what possible object could Mr. Byrne have in disguising himself in the way you mention? and what could be his motive in trying to deceive me?"