For the first time I noticed the window, which had certainly been closed when we were playing, was open about a foot. Besides, Mr. Blumenfeld’s glass of port, of which he had drunk only half, was now empty, two facts which, however, at the time conveyed nothing to me.
In due course the doctor, an elderly country practitioner, arrived in hot haste, and grave concern, but as soon as he saw his patient he realized that it had been only a fainting fit and was nothing serious. Indeed, within an hour Blumenfeld was laughing with us as though nothing had occurred.
But what had really occurred, I wondered? That window had been opened, apparently to admit fresh air to revive an unconscious man. But surely our host had not drained his port glass after his sudden seizure!
The incident was, at Blumenfeld’s request, hidden from the ladies, and next day he was quite his old self again.
About noon I strolled with Rayne out along the wide terrace which ran in front of the house overlooking the great park, whereupon he said:
“We’ll leave here to-morrow, Hargreave. Duperré is at Overstow. Write to him this afternoon and tell him to send me a wire recalling me immediately upon urgent business.”
“We’ve finished here, eh?” I asked meaningly.
“Yes,” he grinned, “and the sooner we’re out of this place the better.”
So I sent Vincent a note, telling him to wire Rayne at once on receipt of it.