He had the feeling that all was not well.
'Yes,' said Lady Wetherby. 'What on earth are you doing, Dudley?'
'Popping out!' grumbled Lord Wetherby.
'We came here to see Algie's picture, which has got something
wrong with its eyes apparently, and we find you hiding in the dark
with a gun. What's the idea?'
'It's a long story,' said Mr Pickering.
'We have the night before us,' said Lady Wetherby.
'You remember The Man--the fellow I found looking in at the
window, The Man who said he knew Claire?'
'You've got that man on the brain, Dudley. What's he been doing to
you now?'
'I tracked him here.'
'Tracked him? Where from?'
'From that bee-farm place where he's living. He and that girl you
spoke of went into these woods. I thought they were making for the
house, but they went into the shack.'
'What did they do then?' asked Lady Wetherby
'They came out again.'
'Why?'
'That's what I was trying to find out.'
Lord Wetherby uttered an exclamation.
'By Jove!' There was apprehension in his voice, but mingled with
it a certain pleased surprise. 'Perhaps they were after my
picture. I'll light the lamp. Good Lord, picture thieves--Romneys
--missing Gainsboroughs--' His voice trailed off as he found the
lamp and lit it. Relief and disappointment were nicely blended in
his next words: 'No, it's still there.
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