Then, before the astonished driver had recovered from the shock of this unexpected address, he pushed open the wooden gate that led into the Governor's garden and advanced in graceful spirals up the well-kept drive. A vigorous pull at the front-door bell resulted in the appearance of a neat, dark-eyed housemaid. Mr. Bascombe gazed at her with approval.
"Good morning, my dear," he remarked affably, holding on to the doorpost to steady himself. "Is the Colonel at home?"
"Yes, sir," said the maid.
"Well, tell him that an old college friend of his would like to see him."
For an instant the girl looked at him doubtfully; then, reassured by the clerical costume, invited him to step inside. Abandoning his support with extreme care, Mr. Bascombe followed her into a comfortably-furnished study on the left-hand side of the hall.
"Will you take a seat, sir?" she said.
The invitation was a shade superfluous, for his legs having suddenly failed him, the visitor had already sat down abruptly in a large easy chair against the wall.
The uncertainty in the girl's face deepened into dismay.
"I will tell Colonel Marshall you are here," she said shortly, and with that she hastened from the room, shutting the door behind her.
Mr. Bascombe just had time to pull himself together before the Governor entered. Colonel Marshall was a tall, soldierly-looking man with upturned grey moustache and humorous eyes of a keen blue. The maid had evidently apprised him of her experience, for he looked over his caller with mingled curiosity, amusement, and suspicion.