. Dunster had spoken all the time like a man struggling to preserve
his self-control. There were signs now that his will was ceasing to
serve him. His eyes flashed fire, his voice was raised.

"Will not be granted to me?" he repeated. "Do you mean to say, then,
that I am to be kept here against my will?"

Mr. Fentolin made no immediate reply. With the delicate fingers of his
right hand he pushed back the hair from his forehead. He looked at his
questioner soothingly, as one might look at a spoiled child.

"Against my will?" Mr. Dunster repeated, raising his voice still higher.
"Mr. Fentolin, if the truth must be told, I have heard of you before and
been warned against you. I decline to accept any longer the hospitality
of your roof. I insist upon leaving it. If you will not provide me with
any means of doing so, I will walk."

He made a motion as though to rise from the bed. Meekins' hand very
gently closed upon his arm. One could judge that the grip was like a
grip of iron.

"Dear me," Mr. Fentolin said, "this is really very unreasonable of
you! If you have heard of me, Mr. Dunster, you ought to understand
that notwithstanding my unfortunate physical trouble, I am a person
of consequence and position in this county. I am a magistrate, ex-high
sheriff, and a great land-owner here. I think I may say without boasting
that I represent one of the most ancient families in this country.
Why, therefore, should you treat me as though it were to my interest to
inveigle you under my roof and keep you there for some guilty purpose?
Cannot you understand that it is for your own good I hesitate to part
with you?"

"I understand nothing of the sort," Mr. Dunster exclaimed angrily. "Let
us bring this nonsense to an end. I want my clothes, and if you won't
lend me a car or a trap, I'll walk to the nearest railway station."

Mr. Fentolin shook his head.

"I am quite sure," he said, "that you are not in a position to travel.
Even in the dining-room just now I heard a disturbance for which I was
told that you were responsible."

"I simply insisted upon having my clothes," Mr. Dunster explained. "Your
servant refused to fetch them. Perhaps I lost my temper. If so, I am
sorry. I am not used to being thwarted."

"A few days' rest--" Mr. Fentolin began.

"A few days' rest be hanged!" Mr. Dunster interrupted fiercely. "Listen,
Mr. Fentolin," he added, with the air of one making a last effort to
preserve his temper, "the mission wi