Chapter Nine. The Flight Of The Duke Of The North Ridings
When the Duke’s car arrived outside the Rectory about twelve on the Monday, its driver saw at the gates another car, at the wheel of which sat a policeman whom he recognized.
“Hallo, Puttenham,” he said. “Is the Chief Constable here then?”
“Inside, your Grace,” Constable Puttenham answered, saluting. “Making inquiries about the outrage, I believe.”
The Duke, rather annoyed, looked at the Rectory. He disliked the Chief Constable, who had taken up the business of protecting people, developed it into a hobby, and was rapidly making it a mania and a nuisance — at least, so it appeared to the Duke. He remembered now that at a dinner at his own house some few days before the Chief Constable had held forth at great length on a lack of
