"By the way, Maurice," I said across the table, "I've never told you about that butler of mine that Seagrave sent me."
If the fellow was really guilty, his nerve was magnificent.
"No, you haven't," he said coldly. "How did he turn out?"
I smiled. "A little abruptly," I answered, "and in the middle of the night." Then, seeing that I had secured the attention of the table, I proceeded to sketch my adventure much as I had painted it for the benefit of Mr. Seagrave. I left out, however, all references to Sir Henry Tregattock.
There was a chorus of surprised comment as I concluded. Lady Baradell looked at me with a curious light in her eyes.
"What a ruffian!" she exclaimed. "I hope you hurt him."
"I fancy his nose must be still a little sore," I observed contentedly.
"But it's dreadful to think of a man like that being at large," said Miss York, with a little shudder. "Didn't you go to the police?"
I shook my head. "I really couldn't be bothered. I told Seagrave, and left it in his hands."
Maurice leant back in his chair and laughed. "I'm frightfully sorry for putting you on to such a rotter," he remarked frankly. "I always thought Seagrave's were absolutely trustworthy. It's lucky you can look after yourself so well."