Ogledon being in no mood, with that question still unanswered, for any meal, waited until the men had withdrawn, and then once more approached Mrs. Dolman. White-faced and in deadly anxiety though he was, his smile was soft and kindly, and his voice—albeit a trifle impatient at times of what he supposed to be the good woman’s perversity—as soft and kindly as his smile.
“Now—my dear Mrs. Dolman—pray excuse my pestering you with questions at such an hour, I beg—I am desperately anxious about my cousin, Mr. Chater. You say you saw him on Saturday; are you sure you are not confusing the dates?”
It was the housekeeper’s turn to stare now; after doing so for a moment, in evident perplexity, she shook her head vigorously. “No, Mr. Ogledon—certainly not,” she said; “Master Dandy came down on Saturday—driving from the station in a fly. I sent down to ask if you were expected, sir—and he said he did not know.”
Here a remarkable and ghostly interruption came, in the form of a long wailing chant from Dr. Cripps, who suddenly broke forth, in a quavering treble, with a stave of—“Down Among the Dead Men.” Ogledon, turning furiously, fell upon his friend, and shook him so vigorously, that the little man seemed, for a few moments, in danger of being shaken out of existence altogether. When, however, Ogledon desisted, Cripps merely looked round about him dizzily; smiled, quite as though it were an exercise to which he was accustomed; and set to work drinking harder than ever.
Meantime, Ogledon had turned again to the housekeeper—and began once more to peg away at that subject of the dead man, as though he could never leave it alone.
“Did—did Mr. Chater seem—seem well?” he asked, with some assumption of carelessness.
“I never saw him looking better, Mr. Ogledon,” replied the housekeeper, tranquilly. “And now, gentlemen,” she added—“seeing that you have all you require, I will take the liberty of going to bed.”
“By all means,” responded Ogledon, appearing to wake suddenly from a heavy musing fit which had been upon him. “By all means, Mrs. Dolman. You are quite sure, Mrs. Dolman—quite sure that you have made no mistake about the date?”
“Quite certain, Mr. Ogledon,” she replied, a little coldly. “I am not likely to make such mistakes as that, sir; it was impressed upon me the more, perhaps, because Master Dandy got up very early the next morning—Sunday that was—and afterwards went to church.”
“Dandy Chater went to church!” exclaimed Ogledon; and, at the mere suggestion of such a thing, he smiled in good earnest, despite the seriousness of the matter to him. His face cleared a little; he seemed to see an easy solution of the business. “My good soul—you have certainly been dreaming; Dandy Chater would never have gone to church!”