‘I’m sorry you had a disturbed night, Mr Fisher. You must make up for it this afternoon. You will find the beds very comfortable.’
‘How’s that?’
‘At the “Feathers”. I should go there, if I were you. The charges are quite reasonable, and the food is good. You will like the “Feathers”.’
‘I don’t get you, sonny.’
‘I was trying to break it gently to you that you are about to move from this house. Now. At once. Take your last glimpse of the old home, Sam, and out into the hard world.’
He looked at me inquiringly.
‘You seem to be talking, young man; words appear to be fluttering from you; but your meaning, if any, escapes me.’
‘My meaning is that I am about to turn you out. I am coming back here, and there is not room for both of us. So, if you do not see your way to going quietly, I shall take you by the back of the neck and run you out. Do I make myself fairly clear now?’
He permitted himself a rich chuckle.
‘You have gall, young man. Well, I hate to seem unfriendly. I like you, sonny. You amuse me–but there are moments when one wants to be alone. I have a whole heap of arrears of sleep to make up. Trot along, kiddo, and quit disturbing uncle. Tie a string to yourself and disappear. Bye-bye.’
The wicker-work creaked as he settled his stout body. He picked up the handkerchief.
‘Mr Fisher,’ I said, ‘I have no wish to propel your grey hairs at a rapid run down the drive, so I will explain further. I am physically stronger than you. I mean to turn you out. How can you prevent it? Mr Abney is away. You can’t appeal to him. The police are at the end of the telephone, but you can’t appeal to them. So what -can- you do, except go? Do you get me now?’
He regarded the situation in thoughtful silence. He allowed no emotion to find expression in his face, but I knew that the significance of my remarks had sunk in. I could almost follow his mind as he tested my position point by point and found it impregnable.
When he spoke it was to accept defeat jauntily.
‘You -are- my jinx, young man. I said it all along. You’re really set on my going? Say no more. I’ll go. After all, it’s quiet at the inn, and what more does a man want at my time of life?’
I went out into the garden to interview Audrey.
She was walking up and down on the tennis-lawn. The Nugget, lounging in a deck-chair, appeared to be asleep.
She caught sight of me as I came out from the belt of trees, and stopped. I had the trying experience of walking across open country under hostile observation.
The routing of Sam had left me alert and self-confident. I felt no embarrassment. I greeted her briskly.
‘Good afternoon. I have been talking to Sam Fisher. If you wait, you will see him passing away down the drive. He is leaving the house. I am coming back.’
‘Coming back?’
She spoke incredulously, or, rather, as if my words had conveyed no meaning. It was so that Sam had spoken. Her mind, like his, took time to adjust itself to the unexpected.
She seemed to awake to my meaning with a start.
‘Coming back?’ Her eyes widened. The flush deepened on her cheeks. ‘But I told you–‘
‘I know what you told me. You said you did not trust me. It doesn’t matter. I am coming back whether you trust me or not. This house is under martial law, and I am in command. The situation has changed since I spoke to you last night. Last night I was ready to let you have your way. I intended to keep an eye on things from the inn. But it’s different now. It is not a case of Sam Fisher any longer. You could have managed Sam. It’s Buck MacGinnis now, the man who came that night in the automobile. I saw him in the village after I left you. He’s dangerous.’