The
description of Mr. John Hill, your odd man, rather tickled my
fancy. I wanted badly to get at you for a quiet chat and it
seemed to me that if I could borrow Mr. Hill's appearance for a
few hours now and then I might gain access to you without rousing
any suspicion. You see, I knew that old Hill left here about dusk
every afternoon, so I guessed the coast would be clear.
"Clarkson's fitted me out with the duds and the make-up and I got
down to Wentfield by half-past six. The fog was so infernally
thick that it took me more than an hour to get here on foot. It
must have been close on eight o'clock when I pushed open your
front gate. I thought of going boldly into the kitchen and asking
for you, but, fortunately, I decided to have a preliminary prowl
round the place. Through a chink in the curtains of the library I
saw you and a stranger talking together. The stranger was quite
unknown to me; but one thing about him I spotted right off. I saw
that he was disguised; so I decided to hang about a bit and await
developments.
"I loafed around in the fog for about half an hour. Then I heard
a car coming up the drive. I hid myself in the rhododendron bush
opposite the front door and saw two men and a woman get out. They
hurried into the house, so that I didn't have a chance of seeing
their faces.
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