“Except me,” said the butler.
“Any one here except the servants?”
“We have no house guests,” said Briggs. “We don’t keep a deal of company.”
“Show me to the library,” the stranger commanded.
Briggs, now stately and offended, led the way. Briggs resented the tone the detective used. In his youth the butler had been handy with the gloves. It was for this reason he was taken into service by the fox-hunting nobleman so that he might box with his lordship every day before breakfast. Briggs would have liked the opportunity to put on the gloves with this frowning, overbearing, hawknosed detective.
“You’ve got your orders?” cried the stranger.
“I have,” Briggs answered, a trace of insolence perceptible.
“Then get out and don’t worry me. Remember this, answer no phone messages or door bells. My men outside will attend to the people who want to get into this house.”
Briggs tried new tactics. He was feverishly anxious to find out what was suspected.
“As man to man,” Briggs began with a fine affability.