"What's happened?" he asked, glancing at Pat, after she had introduced me.
"I don't want you young people to be alarmed," I said, "but there's no telling. Henry's a light sleeper, and he may drop in on you at any moment."
Just then Niki came in, bearing the reporter's supper on a huge silver tray. Niki was probably just as much surprised at seeing me there, as I was in discovering him, in the first place, but his face was still a stolid mask. While he busied himself at the table, I shepherded McGinity and Pat to one side, and said, in a low voice:
"Now, Mr. McGinity, you hurry and eat your supper, and I'll relieve Patricia, and act as your bodyguard until I've locked you up again safely in our cellar."
"But he isn't to be locked up again," said Pat, after McGinity had seated himself at the table. "I've already given orders to Niki to put him in the Blue Room."
I gasped. It was almost incomprehensible. The Blue Room was the most attractive and spacious guest-room in the castle.
"Mr. McGinity can remain comfortably there, without any disturbance from Uncle Henry," she continued, "until Niki serves him his breakfast. As a prevention against catching cold, after his exposure this evening, I've instructed Niki to give him a good alcohol rub-down, and also to massage his jaw. You've no objections, Uncle Livingston?"
"None," I replied. Not a hint that I was utterly flabbergasted.
McGinity heard nothing of this, or seemed to hear nothing. He was obviously engrossed in eating his supper. But not so absorbed as I thought when Pat said: "Well, good-night—all," and turned to leave the room.
Then he leapt to his feet. "Don't go, please!" he pleaded.