“Oh, I was just at the door, going to open it anyhow. I was on my way to my room when I heard you out there.” He gestured toward the drive. “I imagined you’d want to be let right in.”
“But, my dear Crofts, you didn’t know who I was.”
“Oh, yes, I did. That is, I thought I did. Oh, there’s a fine state of confusion here. You see, we’ve been waiting for Sir Brooke Mortimer since before dinner. And as he’s not sent word, we’re still waiting for him.”
“Oh?” I said.
“Yes,” said he.
We were standing just inside the hall, which contained some of the finest screen panelling I have seen. I guessed, rightly, that it was Henry VIII. work. A multitude of little heads peered out from the wall beneath coats-of-arms, and the foliated edges of the wood were as delicate as lace. There was a settle standing on the left-hand side, where the ceiling sloped down sharply, evidently beneath a winding stair.
Pendleton seemed struck by a sudden thought. “You’d like to change, perhaps?”
“My dear man! If you’ll fit me out! I shall perish otherwise. As I am, I’d rather not see people.”
“Well—would you mind waiting here a moment? I’ll fetch Blenkinson. Not long. There’s a good fellow.”
He was gone, and I sat me down on the restful settle with some gyrating thoughts to compose.