'
The man laughed harshly.
'Where is my father?'
'Who is your father?'
'Lord Rantremly.'
'He is dead also.'
'How came he to die?'
'He died from a stroke of paralysis on the morning the butler was
killed.'
The rescued man made no comment on this, but turned and ate a little
more of his food. Then he said to me:--
'Do you know a girl named Sophia Brooks?'
'Yes. For ten years she thought you dead.'
'Ten years! Good God, do you mean to say I've been in there only ten
years? Why, I'm an old man. I must be sixty at least.'
'No; you're not much over thirty.'
'Is Sophia--' He stopped, and the haunted look came into his eyes
again.
'No. She is all right, and she is here.'
'Here?'
'Somewhere in the grounds. I sent her and the servant out for a walk,
and told them not to return till luncheon time, as the constable and I
had something to do, and did not wish to be interrupted.'
The man ran his hand through his long tangled beard.
'I should like to be trimmed up a bit before I see Sophia,' he said.
'I can do that for you, my lord,' cried the constable.
'My lord?' echoed the man. 'Oh, yes, I understand. You are a
policeman, are you not?'
'Yes, my lord, chief constable.
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