“It’ll take a little longer, I know, but do you mind if we walk?  Cars always alarm him.  He thinks that they come to take him away.  Every car that passes vexes him; he looks to see if it will stop.  And when yours does—­” He ended with a shrug.

For the first time Mary’s feelings took on a keen edge of pity.  Poor old gentleman!  Fancy his living like that!  And cars, military cars, too, had been so common on the road across the heath.

“I understand.  Let us go at once.  You walked yourself, I suppose?”

“Ran,” said Beaumaroy, and, with the first sign of a smile, wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“I’m ready, Mr. Beaumaroy,” said Doctor Mary.

They walked along together in silence for fully half the way.  Then Beaumaroy spoke.  “He was extremely excited—­at his worst—­when he and I went into the cottage.  I had to humor him in every way; it was the only thing to do.  That was followed by great fatigue, a sort of collapse.  I persuaded him to go to bed.  I hope we shall find him there, but I don’t know.  He would let me go only on condition that I left the door of the Tower unlocked, so that he could go in there if he wanted to.  If he has, I’m afraid that you may see something—­well, something rather bizarre, Dr. Arkroyd.”

“That’s all in the course of my profession.”

Silence fell on them again, till the outline of cottage and Tower came into view through the darkness.  Beaumaroy spoke only once again before they reached the garden gate.

“If he should happen to be calmer now, I hope you will not consider it necessary to tell him that you suspect anything unusual.”

“He is secretive?”

“He lives in terror.”

“Of what?”

“Of being shut up.  May I lead the way in, Dr. Arkroyd?”

They entered the cottage, and Beaumaroy shut the door.  A lamp was burning dimly in the passage.  He turned it up.  “Would you kindly wait here one minute?” Receiving her nod of acquiescence, he stepped softly up the stairs, and she heard him open a door above; she knew it was that of Mr. Saffron’s bedroom, where she had visited the old man.  She waited, now with a sudden sense of suspense.  It was very quiet in the cottage.

Beaumaroy was down again in a minute.

“It is as I feared,” he said quietly.  “He has got up again, and gone into the Tower.  Shall I try and get him out, or will you—­”

“I will go in with you, of course, Mr. Beaumaroy.”

His old mirthful, yet rueful, smile came on his lips—­just for a moment.  Then he was grave and formal again.  “This way, then, if you please, Dr. Arkroyd,” he said deferentially.

CHAPTER XI

THE CAR BEHIND THE TREES