"But, dash it all," he expostulated, "there are other directors! I am one
myself. Don't you see how serious this all is? If Rees can be spirited
away and no one be able to lift up a finger to help him, what about the
rest of us?"
"It was in my mind to warn your lordship," Shields observed.
Dredlinton's fear merged into fury,--a blind and nerveless passion.
"But this is outrageous!" he exclaimed, striking the table with his fist.
"Do you mean to say that you can come here to me from Scotland Yard--to
me, a peer of England, living in the heart of London--and tell me that a
friend and a business connection of mine has been kidnapped and
practically warn me against the same fate? What on earth do we pay our
police for? What sort of a country are we living in? Are you all
nincompoops?"
"We remain what we are, notwithstanding your lordship's opinion," the
inspector answered, with a shade of sarcasm in his level tone. "I may add
that I am not the only one engaged in this Investigation, and I can only
do my duty according to the best of my ability."
"You've done nothing--nothing at all!" Dredlinton protested angrily.
"Added to that, you actually come here and warn me that I, too, may be
the victim of a plot, against the ringleaders of which you seem to be
helpless. The British and Imperial Granaries is a perfectly legitimate
company doing a perfectly legitimate business.
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