"Now then, boys, if you don't mind--" He took the attitude of a casual
acquaintance with his two assistants who helped to bear the burden. "Come
along inside. This way--that's it. Where did you say, Merriton? Into the
morning room? All right. Ah, Borkins has been getting things ready, I
see. That couch is a broad one. Good thing, as there are two of 'em."
"_Two_ of 'em, sir?" exclaimed Borkins, suddenly throwing up his hands,
his eyes wide with horror. Mr. Narkom nodded with something of
professional triumph in his look.
"Two of 'em, Borkins. And the second one, if I don't make any mistake,
answers to the description of James Collins--eh, Headland?"
Cleek gave him a sudden look that spoke volumes. It came over him in a
flash that Narkom had said too much; that it wasn't the casual visitor's
place to know what a servant who was not there at the time of his visit
looked like.
"At least--that's as far as I can make out from what Sir Nigel told me of
him the other day," he supplemented, in an effort to make amends.
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