"What on earth do you mean?" thundered the manager.
"Well, sir, I was the last to see Mr. Ford. There is, as it were, a suspicion upon me. I should like to be present while the search continues, both for his sake—and my own."
"Very kind of you, I'm sure," growled Ransome. "But you either do what I tell you, Jackson, or you pack your boxes and clear out. So be quick and make up your mind."
"I think you are treating me most unfairly, sir. But I can not be persuaded out of what I know to be my duty."
"You impertinent rascal!—" began the furious manager. But Peace was already on his feet with a chubby hand outstretched.
"Perhaps, after all, I can make other arrangements, Mr. Ransome," he said. "It is natural that Jackson should consider his own reputation in this affair. That is all, Jackson; you may go now."
It was half an hour afterward, when the end of breakfast had dispersed the party, that I spoke to Peace about it, offering to go to London myself and do my best to carry out his instructions.
"I had bad luck in my call for volunteers," he said.
"I should have thought they would have been glad enough to get the chance of work. They can find no particular amusement in loafing about the place all day."
"Doubtless they all had excellent reasons," he said with a smile. "But, anyway, you can not be spared, Mr. Phillips."