You have a spit in your kitchen, he says, and a pair of chickens in
your larder."
"How did you contrive to meet him?"
"You're a poor guesser, Jack. _He_ met _me_. 'That you, Mr. Hart?' he
said. 'Mr. Grant's house is the first on the right across the bridge.
Tell him'--and the rest of it."
"Have you warned Mrs. Bates?"
"Mrs. Bates being?"
"My housekeeper."
"No, sir. If she's anything like your housemaid, I'm glad I didn't, or
I should have been chucked into the road. I had the deuce of a job to
reach the lawn. Had I ordered dinner I might now have been in the
village lockup."
Grant hurried away, and placated Mrs. Bates after a stormy
interlude. Precisely at 7.30 p. m. Minnie came and said that "Mr.
Hawkshaw" had arrived.
"Bring him out here," said Grant. "Fetch some sherry and glasses, and
give us five minutes' notice before dinner is served."
"Please, sir," tittered Minnie, "the gentleman prefers to stay indoors.
He said his complexion won't stand the glare."
"Very well," smiled Grant, rising. "Put the sherry and bitters on the
sideboard."
"Say," murmured Hart, "is this chap really a detective?"
"Yes. He stands high at Scotland Yard.
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