Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not the least idea who he was. "Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him. "Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected. "I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir. There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever and all that--" John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he got his breath. "What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a raving lunatic--or what are you?" "Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is all, and you must make it possible, somehow." "You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--" "Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon, I am sure--" "I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little, for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment. "Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying perhaps--it must be prevented!" "A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath. "My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I will reason with him." "Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body." "Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent.