Though his words were simple, there was that in his manner (or it might have been the consciousness of guilt on the part of the girl) which caused her cheek to grow pale, and her step to falter; and she accompanied him to the library, with the silent and downcast look of a criminal. He took a chair, drew it to the fire, and pointing to another, said in the same cold tone: ‘Be seated.’
The girl obeyed without a word. At that moment a servant opened the door, and told Rust that a man was inquiring for him.
Rust got up, and went out. In the entry were two men. One of them, a powerfully-built fellow, of about five-and-thirty, with light hair and a prominent eye, asked, ‘Are you Michael Rust?’
Rust scanned him from head to foot. He suspected his errand; for he had seen him before, and he replied simply: ‘I am.’
‘Then, Sir, we’ve come for you.’ At the same time, the man produced a slip of paper, and tapped Rust on the shoulder. ‘Here’s the warrant, if you’d like to look at it, and the vehicle’s in the road there.’ He gave a nod in the direction.
Rust evinced neither surprise nor trepidation. He merely said, in a musing tone, ‘I should have stipulated for a longer time, for the lawyer has lost none.’ Then addressing the officer, he added: ‘My daughter is in the room. Before going with you, I should like to speak with her in private. You may examine the room, to see that there are no means of escaping from it.’
The man took him at his word; went in the room; glanced round without noticing the girl, who regarded him with some surprise; then went to an inner door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
‘Are you satisfied?’ asked Rust.
The other again stared round the room: went to the window; looked out to see how high it was from the ground; said that he was, and then inquired: ‘How long?’
‘Ten minutes,’ was the reply.