The corporal came back into the room.
"She'll be quiet now, sir," he said, "I told her to get you and
the gentlemen a cup o' tea."
Then, to Desmond, he said:
"Nasty ding you got, sir! My word, I thought they'd done for you
when I come in at the winder!"
The telephone on the desk tingled sharply. The door opened at the
same moment and a shabby little old man with sandy side whiskers
and moleskin trousers came briskly in.
His appearance had a curious effect on the patient on the settee.
Despite the doctor's restraining hand, he struggled into a
sitting position, staring in bewilderment at the shabby old man
who had gone straight to the telephone and lifted the receiver.
And well might Desmond stare; for here was Mr. John Hill, the odd
man, talking on the telephone. And his voice...
"Well?" said the man at the telephone, curtly.
"Yes, speaking. You've got her, eh? Good. What's that? Well,
that's something. No trace of the others? Damn!"
He slammed down the receiver and turned to face the settee.
"Francis!" cried Desmond.
And then he did a thing highly unbecoming in a field officer. He
burst into tears.
CHAPTER XX. THE ODD MAN
Desmond and Francis Okewood sat in the dining-room of the Mill
House finishing an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs and coffee
which old Martha had prepared for them.
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