‘Why, this. I didn’t tell you what I heard—it wasn’t no business of mine—but I’ll tell you now. You remember Mr Austin dining here last Sunday evening? The boss, as you know, had the hump all day, but Mr Austin when he came first was as sweet as you please. After dinner they went to the library. Well, sir, I was passing the door about half-past nine or maybe later, and I heard their voices inside. I judged they were having a bit of a row. I heard Mr Austin shouting, “My God, sir, she isn’t!” and then I heard the mumble of Sir William’s voice, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Well, that was all of that. Then about half-past ten, when Mr Austin was leaving, I was in the hall, and got him his coat, and he was just sort of green about the gills, as if he had been laid out in the ring. He’s always pleasant enough, but that night he took his coat and hat as if I was a blooming hat-stand, and out to the car without a word, and a look on his face as if he’d seen death. And Sir William hasn’t been the same since either. Oh yes! I guess they’ve had some sort of a dust up.’ Parkes whistled. ‘About the girl?’ he said, with a sharp glance. ‘So _I_ thought. Miss Lois Drew may be a very nice young lady, and I don’t say she’s not, but she’s hardly the kind of daughter-in-law the old man would be looking out for.’ ‘It’s a fact, Innes. You’re right. Now if it had been my Lady Evelyn, things would have been different.’ ‘You bet,’ said the valet. The men’s allusion was to a subject of common gossip in Halford. Austin Ponson was universally believed to be in love with the daughter of the local bookseller. And as universally, it was assumed that such a match would have the determined opposition of Sir William. ‘I think we might send in to Mr Austin’s, and find out,’ went on Parkes after a pause. ‘If he’s there no harm’s done, and if not, why, it might be just as well to tell Mr Austin.’ ‘Well, I’ll go in and see him if you think so.’ ‘I would be glad. Hughes can run you in in the small car.’ Some twenty minutes later Innes rang at the door of a pleasant looking little villa on the outskirts of Halford. ‘Is Mr Austin about yet, Mrs Currie?’ he asked, as an elderly woman, with a kindly, dependable face, answered. ‘He’s not down yet, Mr Innes. Will you come in?’ The valet answered her question with another. ‘Sir William didn’t call last night, I suppose?’ ‘Sir William? No, Mr Innes, I haven’t seen Sir William for over a month.’ ‘Well, I’ll come in, thank you, and when Mr Austin’s ready I’d like to see him.’ ‘I’ll tell him you’re waiting.’