I got down at the front gate, leaving the coachman to take the dogcart round, and walked up the drive; and my astonishment may be imagined when, on turning the corner, I came suddenly upon the inspector of the local police in earnest conversation with no less a person than John Thorndyke.
"What on earth has brought you here?" I exclaimed, my surprise getting the better of my manners.
"The ultimate motive-force," he replied, "was an impulsive lady named Mrs. Haldean. She telegraphed for me--in your name."
"She oughtn't to have done that," I said.
"Perhaps not. But the ethics of an agitated woman are not worth discussing, and she has done something much worse--she has applied to the local J.P. (a retired Major-General), and our gallant and unlearned friend has issued a warrant for the arrest of Lucy Haldean on the charge of murder."
"But there has been no murder!" I exclaimed.
"That," said Thorndyke, "is a legal subtlety that he does not appreciate. He has learned his law in the orderly-room, where the qualifications to practise are an irritable temper and a loud voice. However, the practical point is, inspector, that the warrant is irregular. You can't arrest people for hypothetical crimes."
The officer drew a deep breath of relief. He knew all about the irregularity, and now joyfully took refuge behind Thorndyke's great reputation.
When he had departed--with a brief note from my colleague to the General--Thorndyke slipped his arm through mine, and we strolled towards the house.
"This is a grim business, Jervis," said he. "That boy has got to be found for everybody's sake. Can you come with me when you have had some food?"
"Of course I can. I have been saving myself all the afternoon with a view to continuing the search."
"Good," said Thorndyke. "Then come in and feed."
A nondescript meal, half tea and half dinner, was already prepared, and Mrs. Hanshaw, grave but self-possessed, presided at the table.
"Mabel is still out with Giles, searching for the boy," she said. "You have heard what she has done!"
"It was dreadful of her," continued Mrs. Hanshaw, "but she is half mad, poor thing. You might run up and say a few kind words to poor Lucy while I make the tea."
I went up at once and knocked at Miss Haldean's door, and, being bidden to enter, found her lying on the sofa, red-eyed and pale, the very ghost of the merry, laughing girl who had gone out with me in the morning. I drew up a chair, and sat down by her side, and as I took the hand she held out to me, she said: