“And did you come back for a whiff?” asked Miss Lebetwood, smiling faintly.
“No, Miss; I went to my workroom in the stables and did some more on my radio. I only remembered about a quarter past six that I had to fix the lights in the Hall, and when I came to the House I met Mr. Salt and the constable’s brother that wasn’t here before coming out with the gas tank. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Tell ’em they can go anywhere they like now. I’ve sucked the gas back into the respirator; so there’s no danger for that matter of fact.’ And then he told me what I told you.”
“I suppose most of our people have returned?”
“Yes, Miss. The ladies are all upstairs or somewhere. There’s them back from New Aidenn, too, and Mr. Blenkinson and some of the others from the hills. If you wasn’t found by nine o’clock, they was going to ’phone up Penybont and Bleddfa and maybe get a bloodhound and have a grand search like they almost had for Sir Brooke Mortimer.”
“Thank you, Toby,” said the girl, “and thank you again, Mr. Bannerlee. I shall have to do a bit of thinking now.” She went quickly, almost lightly, up the steps. Somehow, she had drawn comfort from Salt’s strange behaviour.
I followed Toby into the Hall. Quite by chance I had found the person I could trust, one whose allegiance to the American girl might be as great as mine.
He was upon a lofty step-ladder planted beneath the chandelier which hung some distance clear of the musicians’ gallery. Below him rested a bushel basket partly filled with electric bulbs.
“Will you be there long, Toby?”
“Only to take out the rest of the bulbs, sir, and connect a bit of wire with the wall-fixture in case they needs it. Only a minute or two, sir.”
I drew close to the foot of the ladder and spoke very softly. “Toby—can you get an hour off before very late to-night—to do something for Miss Lebetwood?”