Even at the very moment he was muttering an appropriate reply to this somewhat unusual greeting, and allowing his thoughts, below the surface of his words, to reflect how oddly the servants in King’s Barton behaved, Wolf became aware of the approach of an imposing personage coming down the long hallway towards them. This figure, limping very much and leaning upon a stick, was in evening-dress; and as he approached he muttered, over and over again, in a low, soft, satiny voice: “What’s this I hear, eh? What’s this I hear, eh? What’s this I hear, eh?”

The tall coachman, or gardener, or whatever he was, did not wait for his master’s arrival. With one quick glance at Solent and a final “Excuse me, Sir!” he vanished through a side-door, leaving Wolf to face his host without any official announcement.

“ Mr. Solent? Very good. Mr. Wolf Solent? Very, very good. You received my letter and you came at once? Excellent. Very, very good.”