And then ensued a long ghastly vigil of watching and
waiting. Once or twice Clovis left the house to stroll
across to the shrubbery, returning always to the library,
for the purpose evidently of making a brief report. Once he
took in the letters from the evening postman, and brought
them to the top of the stairs with punctilious politeness.
After his next absence he came half-way up the stairs to
make an announcement.
``The Boy-scouts mistook my signal, and have killed the
postman. I've had very little practice in this sort of
thing, you see. Another time I shall do better.''
The housemaid, who was engaged to be married to the
evening postman, gave way to clamorous grief.
``Remember that your mistress has a headache,'' said J. P.
Huddle. (Miss Huddle's headache was worse.)
Clovis hastened downstairs, and after a short visit to the
library returned with another message:
``The Bishop is sorry to hear that Miss Huddle has a
headache. He is issuing orders that as far as possible no
firearms shall be used near the house; any killing that is
necessary on the premises will be done with cold steel.
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