beyond me.

 

M. Dupont, so far as I could observe, was not contributing to the discussions,

and it was hard to tell from his sullen demean our if he was attending carefully

to what was being said or else deeply engrossed in other thoughts. At one stage,

when I happened to depart the room in the midst of an address by one of the

German gentlemen, M. Dupont suddenly rose and followed me out.

 

"Butler," he said, once we were in the hall, "I wonder if I could have my feet

changed. They are giving me so much discomfort now, I can hardly listen to these

gentlemen."

 

As I recall, I had conveyed a plea to Miss Kenton for assistance - via a

messenger, naturally - and had left M. Dupont sitting in the billiard room

awaiting his nurse, when the first footman had come hurrying down the staircase

in some distress to inform me that my father had been taken ill upstairs.

 

I hurried up to the first floor and on turning at the landing was met by a

strange sight. At the far end of the corridor, almost in front of the large

window, at that moment filled with grey light and rain, my father's figure could

be seen frozen in a posture that suggested he was taking part in some ceremonial

ritual. He had dropped down on to one knee and with head bowed seemed to be

pushing at the trolley before him, which for some reason had taken on an

obstinate immobility.