“Butterworth’s the butler, isn’t he? And the secretary’s name is Llewellyn? How long have they been with you?” “Butterworth came into my father’s service when we were living at Washington. He was butler to Sir Julian Kennedy, the British Ambassador at Washington at that time. When Sir Julian died—about fifteen years ago I should say—speaking from memory—my father offered him employment. My father”—his voice broke a trifle—the realization that his father was dead was becoming more poignant to him as time passed—“regarded him as invaluable.” “And Mr. Llewellyn? How long has he been with your father?” “About two years. He came to us when we were in New York.” “The butler’s wife—you said just now, I think—acts as housekeeper?” “Yes. There are four maids here, also.” “Any comments to make on them?” The Sergeant puffed out his cheeks and endeavored to look impressive. “I have nothing against any of them.” “You’ll forgive me, I hope, putting the question, Mr. Stewart—especially at a time like this—had your father any entanglements as you might say with the opposite sex?” The indelicacy of his query affected the Sergeant so profoundly as to produce a superfluous aspirate. But once again he was destined to draw a blank. “You can make your mind easy on that point, Sergeant. My mother died ten years ago when I was twelve. It was a great blow to my father—they idolized each other—I don’t think the thought of another woman since has ever entered my father’s mind.” He kept his gaze resolutely averted from the still figure at the desk. Doctor Gunner, before he had slipped out, had reverently laid a white towel over the head and face. But the boy’s nerves were rapidly getting on edge, and he felt he would be unable to endure this phlegmatic policeman very much longer. Clegg, however, was nothing if not “thorough.” His favorite philosophy was to contemplate the epic struggle of the hare and the tortoise and whenever he was tempted to hitch his personal wagon to a star he always took excessive care to see it was well secured. “I don’t believe in taking a lot of risks,” he was wont to say to his staff at Assynton. “Care may have killed the cat, but it’s never been known to have killed a policeman.”