“If I did, I don’t see what business that is of yours,” retorted Kate haughtily enough, but inwardly quaking. “Who are you, sir?”
“I am Ferret, miss,” he answered, rising and bowing; “Mr. Samuel Ferret, of the Scotland Yard private detective force—your servant.”
“Good gracious,” cried Miss Mettleby, springing up in spite of her effort to betray no feeling. “A detective? But why should you come here?”
Poor Kate’s alarm would have been considerably heightened had she only known that three or four other insinuating and evanescent gentlemen had been in and out of the premises for the past hour, and that still more of them were at that moment watching the house, front and rear.
“Well, you see, miss,” replied Ferret, trying by his manner to reassure the young woman, “I’ve been taking an interest in my foreign friend for a week. He came here today. I haven’t seen him go away again? Have you?”
“No,” answered Kate, with an indifference which she did not feel; “but he must have gone, of course. There is no such person about the premises. I must ring and advise Mr. Fair.”
“Now, really, you know,” exclaimed Ferret, jumping up to intercept her; “I wouldn’t do that, would you? When a gent goes into a house and don’t come out again, it is just possible to imagine that he is somewhere near that house, not to say in that house. You follow me, I hope? Well, my dear foreign friend came into this here very elegant mansion and he didn’t go out of it again, so by a stretch of fancy I think he may be in London yet, and in that part of London which is up in your attic. Now, don’t jump. If you make a row, you’ll frighten the great folks at dinner—such a deucedly good dinner, too—and besides give my foreign friend advance knowledge of my little surprise party—I just love surprises, don’t you? And them there foreign gents can get out through a smaller hole than a self-respecting Englishman, let me tell you.”
“But who is the man?” asked Kate, forgetting her alarm as Ferret, with the oddest winks and gestures with his long thumbs, delivered his speech. “And what is he doing here? And what do you propose to do about it?”
“Me? What do I propose to do about it?” inquired Ferret as if the thought that he would be expected to do something about it had just struck him. “Well, first of all, I propose to ask you to be a nice young lady and help me a bit. You see, miss, my friend don’t mean any great kindness to Mr. and Mrs. Fair. Not a bit of it—that ain’t like my friend. In fact, there’s going to be a row—now, now, don’t jump, you know—I was saying that there is going to be a row, unless you and I prevent it, you know.”
“Then I insist upon telling Mr. Fair at once—this is awful,” cried Kate, beginning again to believe that the alleged detective was simply a clever sneak-thief who was playing upon her ignorance.