At the question the manager halted in his stride, staring sharply down into the Inspector's bland countenance.
"No," he said; "I shall stay here, Mr. Addington Peace, until such time as you have something definite to tell me."
"I have an inquiry to make which I would rather place in the hands of some one who has personal knowledge of Mr. Ford. Neither Mr. Harbord nor yourself desire to leave Meudon. Is there any one else you can suggest?"
"There is Jackson, Ford's valet," said the manager, after a moment's thought. "He can go if you think him bright enough. I'll send for him."
While the footman who answered the bell was gone upon his errand we waited in an uneasy silence. There was the shadow of an ugly mystery upon us all. Jackson, as he entered, was the only one who seemed at his ease. He stood there, a tall figure of all the respectabilities.
"The Inspector here wishes you to go to London, Jackson," said the manager. "He will explain the details. There is a fast train from Camdon at eleven."
"Certainly, sir. Do I return to-night?"
"No, Jackson," said Peace. "It will take a day or two."
The man took a couple of steps toward the door, hesitated, and then returned to his former place.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he began, addressing Ransome. "But I would rather remain at Meudon under present circumstances."