CHAPTER XX
LITTLE BILSTEAD ACHES WITH DRAMA
I
"MR. WILLIS would like to see you, sir."
"Willis!" repeated Smith, looking from Janet across the luncheon-table to Miss Lip- scombe.
At the slight inclination of her head, he rose. In the hall he found Willis, his face deathly white, the corners of his mouth twitching, and his hands working as if he were unable to control them.
"Is anything the matter, Willis?" he enquired, has- tening across to the butler.
"Bob Thirkettle's back, Mr. Alfred," he stuttered, and the trembling of his hands and the twitching of his mouth seemed to increase. "I've run all the way from The Grange to warn you, sir."
"That was very foolish," said Smith gravely. "Why should you want to warn me?"
"You mustn't go out, sir," he quavered huskily. "He'll kill you, sir." He swayed slightly, and ap- peared to be on the point of collapse.
"Sit down, Willis," said Smith gently, forcing him into a chair. "You look thoroughly ill."
"I'm I'm all right, Mr. Alfred, thank you," he stut- tered, giving the lie to his words by the greyness of his features, and the beads of perspiration on his brow.
"Ask Miss Lipscombe if she will come here," said
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