“Alas! no, sir.”

“But the Chequers⁠—he said⁠—Surely they knew something?”

“Nought, Mr. Carstares.” Out came Mr. Warburton’s snuffbox. Very deliberately he took a pinch, shaking the remains from his fingertips. “The host, Chadber⁠—an honest man, though lacking in humour⁠—has not set eyes on my lord for well-nigh six months. Not since I went to advise my lord of the Earl’s death.”

“But Warburton, he cannot be far? He is not dead! Oh, surely not that?”

“No, no, Master Dick,” soothed the lawyer. “We should have heard of it had he been killed. I fear he has gone abroad once more. It seems he often spoke of travelling again.”