I could only answer that he had left the table suddenly, without a word
of explanation. "He may perhaps be ill," I added. "As his old servant,
you can do no harm if you go and look for him. Say that I am waiting
here, if he wants me."

The minutes passed slowly and more slowly. I was left alone for so long
a time that I began to feel seriously uneasy. My hand was on the bell
again, when there was a knock at the door. I had expected to see the
butler. It was the groom who entered the room.

"Garthwaite can't come down to you, sir," said the man. "He asks, if you
will please go up to the master on the Belvidere."

The house--extending round three sides of a square--was only two stories
high. The flat roof, accessible through a species of hatchway, and still
surrounded by its sturdy stone parapet, was called "The Belvidere," in
reference as usual to the fine view which it commanded. Fearing I knew
not what, I mounted the ladder which led to the roof. Romayne received
me with a harsh outburst of laughter--that saddest false laughter which
is true trouble in disguise.

"Here's something to amuse you!" he cried. "I believe old Garthwaite
thinks I am drunk--he won't leave me up here by myself."

Letting this strange assertion remain unanswered, the butler withdrew.
As he passed me on his way to the ladder, he whispered: "Be careful of
the master! I tell you, sir, he has a bee in his bonnet this night."

Although not of the north country myself, I knew the meaning of the
phrase. Garthwaite suspected that the master was nothing less than mad!