“This gardener looked at me very suspiciously yesterday,” whispered Jason. “I saw him through the hedge, in his garden. He was planting something, but he kept looking at the hedge. He must have known I was there. He must have been wondering whether he dared shoot at me with a shotgun. So goodbye! I’m going to walk round the pond very slowly.”

Wolf moved toward Mr. Monk, leaving his companion to shuffle off as he pleased. The gigantic servant looked like a respectable prizefighter in his Sunday clothes. When the two men met he took from his pocket a telegram and handed it to Wolf, touching his hat politely as he did so.

“This came early,” he said. “But there was no one else to send; and I had to tend to things before I could bring it myself. If there’s any answer, ’twill have to go by way of Blacksod, for our office shuts at noon.”

Wolf opened the telegram. It was from his mother, and ran as follows: