He was already out of bed, waiting to be shaved; but I could see that he wasn't himself, for his hand trembled when I gave him his clothes, and he spoke very cool and calm like.
"Well," said he, "is it any letter you're bringing me?"
"Not a half a one, sir," said I.
"Then there's no talk down stairs as yet?" he went on.
"I haven't heard any," said I, "but Reubens, the constable, is on the lawn with Mr. Oakley, and they're busy talking."
"What can that be now?" he asked mighty eagerly.
"That's what I'm going to find out presently," exclaimed I. "There's a young chap in the village with more paper for us; perhaps he's come about him."
"So the hawks have scented us again," cried he, sitting in the chair to be shaved; "well, I don't care a crack for them. 'Tis this Heresford that's troubling me. If he's to come, Hildebrand, there should be word or message from him this morning."
"That's so, sir," said I; "if you hear nothing when the gong for lunch goes, you may make your mind easy."
"Otherwise, I suppose there's only one way."
"Only one, sir," said I.
He gave a great sigh, and let me shave him without a word. When I had done that, he bethought him all of a sudden of something that had troubled me the whole night through.
"Hildebrand," said he, "it's badly off for money I am, let me tell you. I've not fifty in the world. I was looking for Oakley's check to his daughter to get through Saturday."
Now, when he said this, something came quickly into my head that was not there before; and when I'd thought of it a minute, I told him.
"One thing you're forgetting, sir," said I; "there's the things which Mr. Oakley give you—you wouldn't be leaving them behind."
"What things do you mean?" said he; "not the girl's wedding presents?"
"Well, not exactly those, sir, but the things given to you. Gifts are gifts, and not to be taken back, I think."
"You scoundrel," said he, springing up from his chair with his fist clenched, "would you make a housebreaker of me?"
"I don't know," said I, quite calmly; "but one thing I would do, Sir Nicolas——"
"And what is that, pray?" cried he, standing white with passion.
"Keep you out of the hands of the police!" I replied, while I turned to put his things away.
What he did when he heard this I don't know, since I had my back to him. But he said nothing for a long time, and when he spoke there was no more bluster about him.
"Hildebrand," cried he, quite quietly, "if you could find out what the constable's here for, it would help us, don't you think?"
"I'm going down to do that now, sir," said I; "there'll be time enough to pack your bag while you're at breakfast."
"To pack my bag—what do you want to do that for?" cried he.
"Against accidents," said I; "and while I'm talking about it, let me say that you'd be wise not to go far from home to-day."
He heard me out, and then turned away to the window. I could see that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, and I thought it was fortunate that one of us at least had more than the heart of a woman. But it wasn't the time to say that to him, and I went down stairs to find out, if I could, why the constable had come up to the house, and whether there was any message from Heresford. Lucky enough, I met Mr. Oakley on the landing, and I knew from his manner that we were all right so far.
"Ha, Hildebrand!" said he, "you're the very man I want to see. Reubens, the constable, has been trying to frighten me about those wedding presents down stairs. He seems to think there is a person in the village who is to be suspected. I tell him it is all nonsense. As if any one would rob my house!"
"Reubens has got hold of the wrong end of the stick this time, Mr. Oakley," said I, seeing in a moment what was coming; "the man he's troubled about is clerk to Sir Nicolas' lawyer, I'm thinking."
He laughed very hearty at this, and leaned over the banisters to tell Miss Janet what I'd said.
"Janet, Janet," cried he, "Reubens' burglar is a lawyer's clerk. Did you ever hear such a thing? I mast tell that at the breakfast on Saturday."
"Was he thinking, then, of taking the gentleman in charge, sir?" I asked.
"Indeed and he was. And that's not all. He wants me to send the valuable things over to the bank at Melbourne, lest they should be stolen by what he is pleased to call a gang from London. Bosh! say I; there's no gang from London that will get in here in a hurry."
"That I'm sure they wouldn't, sir," said I, thinking it precious lucky that I'd hit upon such a good lie. It would never have done to let him be frightened into sending the presents away.
"I'm glad you're of my opinion, Hildebrand," said he next; "we're too busy for burglars just now. Is Sir Nicolas up yet?"
"He's coming down in a minute, sir."
He left me, and began to climb the stairs two at a time, like a man of twenty, and I could hear him muttering "Lazy dog! lazy dog!" because, I suppose, my master was late for breakfast. But I went on into the servants' hall, saying to myself that I'd never had a luckier thought than the one about that writ-server. If Mr. Oakley had listened to Reubens, and sent the diamonds away, we'd have been in a pretty pickle. As it was, I knew he would leave them in the drawing-room, and, so long as they were there, we were not likely to want a railway fare.
It was now about a quarter-past nine o'clock. The morning post had come in, and I was sure there was no letter or telegram from Heresford—a thing I couldn't understand at all. "This man can't be so blind that he doesn't read the meaning of that telegram," I said; and yet it was strange that the morning passed and not a sign of any trouble could we see. Nicky himself, always ready to go up or down in spirits like a thermometer, was half-wild with joy about twelve o'clock, and you could hear his laughter all over the house. Then he went riding with Miss Janet, and when he came back at two o'clock, and there was still no word from Heresford, he looked like a man who had lost twenty of his years in an hour.
I shall never forget that day if I live until I'm a hundred. The times I walked to the lodge gates to see if any one was coming up the road; the starts I got every time the dogs barked and the bells rang. I was that bad by six o'clock that I couldn't sit a minute anywhere; and well as the thing looked, I positively dared not believe in our luck. "It can't be, it can't be," I kept saying to myself; "he must come; he will be here in five minutes, in ten; he will drive up before the clock strikes again." And this went on all the afternoon until six o'clock, the hour when I had arranged to drive down to Melbourne to bring a few of our things up from the station; and still we were safe.
It was a relief to me to get away from the house, and to find myself alone. They always lent me the old dog-cart when I wanted to go to the town, and I said that night that I'd go by myself, for I had so many bags to bring back with me. We used to take about twenty minutes to drive into Melbourne in the ordinary way, but I shook the old mare up a bit on that occasion, for it was a quarter-past six when I passed the lodge, and I meant to get back a little after seven to help Sir Nicolas to dress. It seemed strange to me to find myself on a Derbyshire road at all, for I looked to be on the way to Paris long before then; and even as I drove along, I kept asking myself if it was me that sat there or another. I'd thought so much about the whole thing that I was almost stupid with it.
"It can't be; it can't be!" I said over and over again. "Heresford would walk a hundred miles to put a spoke in Nicky's wheel. He's sworn to hunt him out of every city in Europe, and he's a man of bis word. He must come."
I had made up my mind to this before I'd left the White House a mile behind, and I hadn't gone two miles down the road before time proved me to be right. It came about in this way. I had just turned into the lane which they call the chestnut-grove, and had given the old mare a cut