Missing or Murdered by Robin Forsythe Page B

to life and everything under the sun it would be difficult to say. He may possibly have thought him a trifle insane, but his deportment before his social superiors was that of the trained gentleman’s servant—the perfection of correctness; it was a tacit implication that he was a servant of the gods.
    To Vereker, Farnish had always been a mystery. Whoever else took servants for granted as necessary adjuncts to life, and differentiated by only two characteristics—good and bad—Vereker did not do so. His inquisitive mind was interested in their mentality; he was always trying to discover the human being hidden so discreetly behind the servant. Their psychology intrigued him, and nothing would have pleased him more than to know Farnish’s real opinion about the men and affairs that constituted a portion of the texture of his life and experience. But Vereker had never been able really to penetrate that deferential armour which Farnish wore when his inferior clay came in contact with what was socially supposed to be a superior earth. He had only managed once or twice to glimpse the soul sheltering within this decorous automaton, and the difficulty of the task had always interested him.
    â€œHe’s a winkle—a bally mollusc!” he had often exclaimed.
    Farnish was to-day looking more dignified than ever. The disappearance of Lord Bygrave was to him the most serious matter on earth, and he evidently considered that it required a corresponding gravity of countenance on his part. Vereker, however, thought that there was just a trace of anxiety in his manner, an extra sharpness in the lines of his thin face, a shade more pallor.
    â€œNo further news of his lordship, Farnish?” he remarked.
    â€œNone whatever, sir.”
    â€œThis is Detective-Inspector Heather of Scotland Yard. He has come to look round the place and make inquiries. Put everything at his disposal and give him all the assistance you can. As you may know, Farnish, I am a trustee under Lord Bygrave’s will, and in his absence you will take your orders from me and come to me for anything you want.”
    â€œVery good, sir,” replied Farnish, and his eyes glanced up at Vereker with a strangely furtive, inquisitive look.
    Vereker was astonished. Never before in his life had he seen the slightest trace of inquisitiveness in Farnish’s manner, and here all at once the miracle had happened. Vereker, however, strove to hide any sign of the surprise that he experienced at this unusual occurrence, though it shook him to the extent of causing him to conceal his face and expression with his handkerchief, under cover of violently blowing his nose. When he had sufficiently recovered his equanimity and looked again at Farnish, the miracle had passed, but in Vereker’s mind it had left a shadow, the first, almost imperceptible shadow of doubt and suspicion.
    Inspector Heather at this juncture signified that he would at once have a look over the entire house, and would be glad of Farnish’s guidance. He would also like to question Farnish about all Lord Bygrave’s recent movements.
    â€œThen I will go out and study the case in the Japanese garden,” said Vereker, “and, Farnish, you might see that lunch is ready for one o’clock.”
    Vereker slowly made his way to his favourite spot in the Japanese garden, and sat down on a large boulder forming a bridge over a tiny rivulet of clear water. He sat there until lunch-time, deep in thought, his eyes glancing now and then at various aspects in the garden with swift and keen appreciation, but his whole mind bent on the problem of his friend’s inexplicable disappearance. And, as he sat pondering, certain points in his experiences since he assumed the rôle of amateur detective began to assume significance and form the skeleton on which his supple imagination commenced to build.
    â€œBut I can’t understand Farnish!” he soliloquized.