After luncheon the bailiff sent in word that he should like to speak to him. The man was accordingly admitted to the smoking-room, where he discussed various matters connected with the estate with his master for upward of an hour. Labouring as he was, under the weight of greater emotions, Godfrey found it difficult to pin his attention to the matters at issue, and when the other went his way, after respectfully touching his forelock, for the first time since he had known the old fellow, he heaved a sigh of relief. At half-past four he joined the ladies in the drawing-room for afternoon tea. To add to his pain, another consignment of wedding presents had arrived, and in order that he should not be thought to be unduly nervous about the future, he was compelled to appear delighted with the attentions he had received from his friends. “That makes the fifth pair of asparagus tongs we have received,” said Molly, as she closed the case and placed it with its fellows upon the table. “And what is this? Well, I declare, it’s another set of sweet dishes. That brings the number up to twenty-seven!” At that moment the sound of carriage wheels outside reached them, followed, a few seconds later, by the ringing of the front door-bell. “Visitors, I suppose,” said Kitty. “It may be rude, but I must say that I trust it is not the vicar.” They waited in suspense until Williamson, the butler, entered the room and informed Godfrey that a gentleman had called to see him, and was waiting in the library. “Who is it?” Godfrey asked. “Did he not give his name?” “His name is Tompkins, sir,” the butler replied. “He said he should be glad if you could spare the time to see him for a few moments.” “I will do so at once,” said Godfrey, and, asking the ladies to excuse him, left the room. On entering the library, he found himself face to face with a middle-aged individual, who at first glance resembled a sporting parson. He was dressed in black, and carried a black silk hat in his hand. “What can I do for you?” Godfrey inquired. “I am not aware that I have ever seen you before.” “Very likely not, sir,” the man replied. “My name is Tompkins, and I am a Scotland Yard detective. I hold a warrant for your arrest on a charge of wilfully murdering Teresina Cardi in Burford Street on the night of Thursday last. I had better tell you that anything you may say will be used against you.” The blow had fallen at last! CHAPTER XI For some moments Godfrey stood looking at the man who had come down from town to arrest him, as if he were stunned. Though he had half expected it, now that the blow had fallen he seemed scarcely able to appreciate his position. At last, with an effort, he recovered his self-possession. “You may be able to imagine what a very unhappy mistake this is for me,” he said to the detective. “But I have no wish to complain to you; you are only doing your duty. Where is it you desire to take me?”