remarked, going nearer to that article of furniture. "Mr. Parslewe is, I see, a connoisseur in Chippendale work."
He went nearer to the sideboard, but we both saw that he was not looking at it at all; he was staring at the coat-of-arms on the copper box.
"Delightful pursuit, collecting," he said, straightening himself. "Well, I must run away. Pleasure must not be put before business, and I have a car waiting, and business at the other end of a drive."
He shook hands with Madrasia with—I thought—unnecessary cordiality. Madrasia turned to me.
"Perhaps you'll see Sir Charles safely down the stair?" she suggested. "It's rather dangerous if you don't know it."
I preceded Sir Charles down the stair and opened the door at its foot. It had been shadowy in the room, and more so on the stair, but there was a full glare of spring sunlight on us as we emerged into the courtyard, and now, seeing me clearly for the first time, the old gentleman let out a sudden sharp exclamation.
