“It’s all very well to give it out officially that Freddie has fallen downstairs and sprained his ankle,” said Colonel Horace Mant, discussing the affair with the Bishop of Godalming later in the afternoon; “but it’s my firm belief that that fellow Baxter did precisely as I said he would—­ran amuck and inflicted dashed frightful injuries on young Freddie.  When I got into the house there was Freddie being helped up the stairs, while Baxter, with his face covered with soot, was looking after him with a sort of evil grin.  What had he smeared his face with soot for, I should like to know, if he were perfectly sane?

“The whole thing is dashed fishy and mysterious and the sooner I can get Mildred safely out of the place, the better I shall be pleased.  The fellow’s as mad as a hatter!”

CHAPTER X

When Lord Emsworth, sighting Mr. Peters in the group of returned churchgoers, drew him aside and broke the news that the valuable scarab, so kindly presented by him to the castle museum, had been stolen in the night by some person unknown, he thought the millionaire took it exceedingly well.  Though the stolen object no longer belonged to him, Mr. Peters no doubt still continued to take an affectionate interest in it and might have been excused had he shown annoyance that his gift had been so carelessly guarded.

Mr. Peters was, however, thoroughly magnanimous about the matter.  He deprecated the notion that the earl could possibly have prevented this unfortunate occurrence.  He quite understood.  He was not in the least hurt.  Nobody could have foreseen such a calamity.  These things happened and one had to accept them.  He himself had once suffered in much the same way, the gem of his collection having been removed almost beneath his eyes in the smoothest possible fashion.

Altogether, he relieved Lord Emsworth’s mind very much; and when he had finished doing so he departed swiftly and rang for Ashe.  When Ashe arrived he bubbled over with enthusiasm.  He was lyrical in his praise.  He went so far as to slap Ashe on the back.  It was only when the latter disclaimed all credit for what had occurred that he checked the flow of approbation.

“It wasn’t you who got it?  Who was it, then?”

“It was Miss Peters’ maid.  It’s a long story; but we were working in partnership.  I tried for the thing and failed, and she succeeded.”

It was with mixed feelings that Ashe listened while Mr. Peters transferred his adjectives of commendation to Joan.  He admired Joan’s courage, he was relieved that her venture had ended without disaster, and he knew that she deserved whatever anyone could find to say in praise of her enterprise:  but, at first, though he tried to crush it down, he could not help feeling a certain amount of chagrin that a girl should have succeeded where he, though having the advantage of first chance, had failed.  The terms of his partnership with Joan had jarred on him from the beginning.