He refrained from asking me point-blank whether I had any suspicions in the matter, but I felt that the question was on the tip of his tongue. I suppose he thought it best, under the circumstances, to wait for further developments.
"I shall be round again about midday," he said finally, collecting his hat and coat.
"Very well," I said. "I shall probably be here, but if not, I'll ring you up and get your report."
Then I showed him out.
After the door had closed, I stood still in the hall for a moment in some doubt. I was wondering whether it would be advisable to tell Maurice what I had learned, or merely to let him know that Milford was seriously ill. My instinctive mistrust of the young gentleman eventually prevailed, and I decided that, for the present at all events, I would maintain a discreet silence. Under the circumstances, it could hardly be wondered at if I felt suspicious of everybody.
When I entered the dining-room, he greeted me with a languid "Well?"
"Unfortunately," I said, "that's just what it isn't. Milford's bad—damned bad."
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Ritchie doesn't know," I replied, with a coolness worthy of Ananias. "He thinks it will probably be a matter of some weeks, however. I'm getting a nurse to look after things."
Maurice yawned. "What a poisonous nuisance," he observed.