called Carter. He's got a
blue nose."

Despite my exasperation I tried once more on a note of forced geniality,
"What sort of man is this chauffeur of the Jervaises? Do you know him at
all?"

"Wears brown leather gaiters," Hughes answered after another solemn
deliberation.

I could have kicked him with all the pleasure in life. His awful
guardedness made me feel as if I were an inquisitive little journalist
trying to ferret out some unsavoury scandal. And he had been the first
person to point the general suspicion a few minutes earlier, by his
inquiry about the motor. I decided to turn the tables on him, if I could
manage it.

"I asked because you seemed to suggest just now that he had gone off with
the Jervaises' motor," I remarked.

Hughes stroked his long thin nose with his thumb and forefinger. It seemed
to take him about a minute from bridge to nostril. Then he inhaled a long
draught of smoke from his cigarette, closed one eye as if it hurt him, and
threw back his head to blow out the smoke again with a slow gasp of
relief.

"One never knows," was all the explanation he vouchsafed after this
tedious performance.

"Whether a chauffeur will steal his master's motor?" I asked.

"Incidentally," he said.

"But, good heavens, if he's that sort of man..." I suggested.

"I'm not saying that he is," Hughes replied.

I realised then that his idea of our conversation was nothing more nor
less than that of a game to be played as expertly as possible. He had all
the makings of a cabinet minister, but as a companion he was, on this
occasion, merely annoying. I felt that I could stand no more of him, and I
was trying to frame a sentence that would convey my opinion of him without
actual insult, when Frank Jervaise looked in at the door.

He stared at us suspiciously, but his expression commonly conveyed some
aspect of threat or suspicion. "Been looking all over the place for you,"
he said.

"For me?" Hughes asked.

Jervaise shook his head. "No, I want Melhuish," he said, and stood
scowling.

"Well, here I am," I prompted him.

"If I'm in the way..." Hughes put in, but did not attempt to get himself
out of it.

Jervaise ignored him. "Look here, Melhuish," he said. "I wonder if you'd
mind coming up with me to the Home Farm?"

"Oh! no; rather not," I agreed gladly.

I felt that Hughes had been scored off; but I instantly forgot such small
triumphs in the delight of being able to get out into the night. Out