initial commit of ebook 1872HEADmain

18 files changed, 68892 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/1872-0.txt b/1872-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ebad25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8754 @@
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1872]
+Last updated: December 31, 2019
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+The Red House Mystery
+
+by A. A. Milne
+
+
+TO JOHN VINE MILNE
+
+My dear Father,
+
+Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories, and
+feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you have done for
+me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here it is: with more
+gratitude and affection than I can well put down here.
+
+A.A.M.
+
+Contents
+
+ CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+ CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+ CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
+ CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
+ CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+ CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
+ CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
+ CHAPTER VIII. “Do You Follow Me, Watson?”
+ CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+ CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+ CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+ CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
+ CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
+ CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+ CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+ CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
+ CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+ CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
+ CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
+ CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+ CHAPTER XXI. Cayley’s Apology
+ CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+
+
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its
+siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came the
+whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds;
+making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.
+
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to the
+wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the
+housekeeper’s room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed
+her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr.
+Mark Ablett’s bachelor home.
+
+“For Joe?” said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey
+nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it,
+and said, “He likes a bit of pink.”
+
+“I don’t say I mind a bit of pink myself,” said her aunt. “Joe Turner
+isn’t the only one.”
+
+“It isn’t everybody’s colour,” said Audrey, holding the hat out at
+arm’s length, and regarding it thoughtfully. “Stylish, isn’t it?”
+
+“Oh, it’ll suit _you_ all right, and it would have suited me at your
+age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other
+people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn’t.
+If I’m fifty-five, I’m fifty-five—that’s what _I_ say.”
+
+“Fifty-eight, isn’t it, auntie?”
+
+“I was just giving that as an example,” said Mrs. Stevens with great
+dignity.
+
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails
+critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+
+“Funny thing that about Mr. Mark’s brother. Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years.” She gave a self-conscious laugh and went
+on, “Wonder what I should do if I didn’t see Joe for fifteen years.”
+
+“As I told you all this morning,” said her aunt, “I’ve been here five
+years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before everybody
+if I was going to die to-morrow. There’s been no brother here while
+I’ve been here.”
+
+“You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him
+at breakfast this morning. I didn’t hear what went before, naturally,
+but they was all talking about the brother when I went in—now what was
+it I went in for—hot milk, was it, or toast?—well, they was all
+talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says—you know his way—‘Stevens,’
+he says, ‘my brother is coming to see me this afternoon; I’m expecting
+him about three,’ he says. ‘Show him into the office,’ he says, just
+like that. ‘Yes, sir,’ I says quite quietly, but I was never so
+surprised in my life, not knowing he had a brother. ‘My brother from
+Australia,’ he says—there, I’d forgotten that. From Australia.”
+
+“Well, he may have been in Australia,” said Mrs. Stevens, judicially;
+“I can’t say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say is
+he’s never been here. Not while I’ve been here, and that’s five years.”
+
+“Well, but, auntie, he hasn’t been here for fifteen years. I heard Mr.
+Mark telling Mr. Cayley. ‘Fifteen years,’ he says. Mr. Cayley having
+arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him,
+I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn’t know when he was last in
+England—see? So that’s why he arst Mr. Mark.”
+
+“I’m not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only speak
+for what I know, and that’s five years Whitsuntide. I can take my oath
+he’s not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if
+he’s been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he’s had his
+reasons.”
+
+“What reasons?” said Audrey lightly.
+
+“Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since
+your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey—when a gentleman goes to
+Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen
+years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he
+has his reasons. And a respectably brought-up girl doesn’t ask what
+reasons.”
+
+“Got into trouble, I suppose,” said Audrey carelessly. “They were
+saying at breakfast he’d been a wild one. Debts. I’m glad Joe isn’t
+like that. He’s got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings’ bank.
+Did I tell you?”
+
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The
+ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet—no longer Audrey, but now
+Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+
+“There, that’s the front door,” she said. “That’s him. ‘Show him into
+the office,’ said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn’t want the other ladies
+and gentlemen to see him. Well, they’re all out at their golf,
+anyhow—Wonder if he’s going to stay—P’raps he’s brought back a lot of
+gold from Australia—I might hear something about Australia, because if
+_anybody_ can get gold there, then I don’t say but what Joe and I—”
+
+“Now, now, get on, Audrey.”
+
+“Just going, darling.” She went out.
+
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the
+open door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of
+which even the mere sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed,
+oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows,
+blue-curtained. On the right and left were doors leading into other
+living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were
+windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open windows
+to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went
+up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the
+left, led you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall,
+to your bedroom. That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr.
+Robert Ablett’s intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr.
+Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the
+front windows, reading. No reason why he shouldn’t be there; certainly
+a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow
+there was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as if all the
+guests were outside, or—perhaps the wisest place of all—up in their
+bedrooms, sleeping. Mr. Cayley, the master’s cousin, was a surprise;
+and, having given a little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him,
+she blushed, and said, “Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn’t see you at
+first,” and he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive
+smile it was on that big ugly face. “Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley,” she
+thought to herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would
+do without him. If this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back
+to Australia, it was Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+
+“So this is Mr. Robert,” said Audrey to herself, as she came in sight
+of the visitor.
+
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for
+Mr. Mark’s brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually
+she was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and
+his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always
+moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register one
+more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more
+expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was a
+very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial,
+staring at her so loweringly.
+
+“I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett,” he growled. It sounded almost like a
+threat.
+
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a
+smile for everybody.
+
+“Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way.”
+
+“Oh! So you know who I am, eh?”
+
+“Mr. Robert Ablett?”
+
+“Ay, that’s right. So he’s expecting me, eh? He’ll be glad to see me,
+eh?”
+
+“If you will come this way, sir,” said Audrey primly.
+
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+
+“Mr. Robert Ab—” she began, and then broke off. The room was empty. She
+turned to the man behind her. “If you will sit down, sir, I will find
+the master. I know he’s in, because he told me that you were coming
+this afternoon.”
+
+“Oh!” He looked round the room. “What d’you call this place, eh?”
+
+“The office, sir.”
+
+“The office?”
+
+“The room where the master works, sir.”
+
+“Works, eh? That’s new. Didn’t know he’d ever done a stroke of work in
+his life.”
+
+“Where he _writes_, sir,” said Audrey, with dignity. The fact that Mr.
+Mark “wrote,” though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the
+housekeeper’s room.
+
+“Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?”
+
+“I will tell the master you are here, sir,” said Audrey decisively.
+
+She closed the door and left him there.
+
+Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once,
+going over all the things which he had said to her and she had said to
+him—quiet-like. “Directly I saw him I said to myself—” Why, you could
+have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a
+perpetual menace to Audrey.
+
+However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked
+across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little
+uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+
+“If you please, sir,” she said in a low, respectful voice, “can you
+tell me where the master is? It’s Mr. Robert called.”
+
+“What?” said Cayley, looking up from his book. “Who?”
+
+Audrey repeated her question.
+
+“I don’t know. Isn’t he in the office? He went up to the Temple after
+lunch. I don’t think I’ve seen him since.”
+
+“Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple.”
+
+Cayley returned to his book.
+
+The “Temple” was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back of
+the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated
+sometimes before retiring to the “office” to put his thoughts upon
+paper. The thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were
+given off at the dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and
+got on to paper more often than they got into print. But that did not
+prevent the master of The Red House from being a little pained when a
+visitor treated the Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for
+the ordinary purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had
+been an occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in
+it. Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little less
+than his usual point—whether they couldn’t find anywhere else for their
+game, but the offenders were never asked to The Red House again.
+
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly
+back. All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his
+room. “Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room.” Well, now,
+Auntie, would _you_ like anyone in _your_ drawing-room with a red
+handkerchief round his neck and great big dusty boots, and—listen! One
+of the men shooting rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and
+onion sauce. How hot it was; she wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea. Well,
+one thing, Mr. Robert wasn’t staying the night; he hadn’t any luggage.
+Of course Mr. Mark could lend him things; he had clothes enough for
+six. She would have known him anywhere for Mr. Mark’s brother.
+
+She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper’s room on her
+way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face
+looked out.
+
+“Hallo, Aud,” said Elsie. “It’s Audrey,” she said, turning into the
+room.
+
+“Come in, Audrey,” called Mrs. Stevens.
+
+“What’s up?” said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+
+“Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?”
+
+“Up to the Temple.”
+
+“Did you hear anything?”
+
+“Hear what?”
+
+“Bangs and explosions and terrible things.”
+
+“Oh!” said Audrey, rather relieved. “One of the men shooting rabbits.
+Why, I said to myself as I came along, ‘Auntie’s partial to a nice
+rabbit,’ I said, and I shouldn’t be surprised if—”
+
+“Rabbits!” said her aunt scornfully. “It was inside the house, my
+girl.”
+
+“Straight it was,” said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids. “I said
+to Mrs. Stevens—didn’t I, Mrs. Stevens?—‘That was in the house,’ I
+said.”
+
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+
+“Do you think he had a revolver with him?” she said in a hushed voice.
+
+“Who?” said Elsie excitedly.
+
+“That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on
+him, ‘You’re a bad lot, my man!’ That’s what I said, Elsie. Even before
+he spoke to me. Rude!” She turned to her aunt. “Well, I give you _my_
+word.”
+
+“If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone
+from Australia.” Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather
+rapidly. “I wouldn’t go out of this room now, not if you paid me a
+hundred thousand pounds.”
+
+“Oh, Mrs. Stevens!” said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for a
+new pair of shoes, “I wouldn’t go as far as that, not myself, but—”
+
+“There!” cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older
+woman’s chair.
+
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+
+“Listen!”
+
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+
+They heard a man’s voice, loud, angry.
+
+“Open the door!” it was shouting. “Open the door! I say, open the
+door!”
+
+“Don’t open the door!” cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was her
+door which was threatened. “Audrey! Elsie! Don’t let him in!”
+
+“Damn it, open the door!” came the voice again.
+
+“We’re all going to be murdered in our beds,” she quavered. Terrified,
+the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens
+sat there, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+
+
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view,
+but it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the
+subject of his early life. However, stories get about. There is always
+somebody who knows. It was understood—and this, anyhow, on Mark’s own
+authority—that his father had been a country clergyman. It was said
+that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some
+rich old spinster of the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education,
+both at school and university. At about the time when he was coming
+down from Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few
+debts, as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons,
+as an example to his successor. Neither warning nor example seems to
+have been effective. Mark went to London, with an allowance from his
+patron, and (it is generally agreed) made acquaintance with the
+money-lenders. He was supposed, by his patron and any others who
+inquired, to be “writing”; but what he wrote, other than letters asking
+for more time to pay, has never been discovered. However, he attended
+the theatres and music halls very regularly—no doubt with a view to
+some serious articles in the “Spectator” on the decadence of the
+English stage.
+
+Fortunately (from Mark’s point of view) his patron died during his
+third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. From that
+moment his life loses its legendary character, and becomes more a
+matter of history. He settled accounts with the money-lenders,
+abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvesting of others, and became
+in his turn a patron. He patronized the Arts. It was not only usurers
+who discovered that Mark Ablett no longer wrote for money; editors were
+now offered free contributions as well as free lunches; publishers were
+given agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the author
+paid all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young painters
+and poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on
+tour, playing host and “lead” with equal lavishness.
+
+He was not what most people call a snob. A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a mean
+lover of mean things—which would be a little unkind to the peerage if
+the first definition were true. Mark had his vanities undoubtedly, but
+he would sooner have met an actor-manager than an earl; he would have
+spoken of his friendship with Dante—had that been possible—more glibly
+than of his friendship with the Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but
+not the worst kind of snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not
+Society; a climber, but in the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay
+Hill.
+
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts. It also included Matthew
+Cayley, a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as limited
+as had been Mark’s own before his patron had rescued him. He sent the
+Cayley cousin to school and Cambridge. His motives, no doubt, were
+unworldly enough at first; a mere repaying to his account in the
+Recording Angel’s book of the generosity which had been lavished on
+himself; a laying-up of treasure in heaven. But it is probable that, as
+the boy grew up, Mark’s designs for his future were based on his own
+interests as much as those of his cousin, and that a suitably educated
+Matthew Cayley of twenty-three was felt by him to be a useful property
+for a man in his position; a man, that is to say, whose vanities left
+him so little time for his affairs.
+
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin’s affairs. By
+this time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable amount of
+land which went with it. Cayley superintended the necessary staff. His
+duties, indeed, were many. He was not quite secretary, not quite
+land-agent, not quite business-adviser, not quite companion, but
+something of all four. Mark leant upon him and called him “Cay,”
+objecting quite rightly in the circumstances to the name of Matthew.
+Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable; a big, heavy-jawed, solid
+fellow, who didn’t bother you with unnecessary talk—a boon to a man who
+liked to do most of the talking himself.
+
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which
+was his patron’s age. Spasmodically they entertained a good deal at the
+Red House, and Mark’s preference—call it kindliness or vanity, as you
+please—was for guests who were not in a position to repay his
+hospitality. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that
+breakfast, of which Stevens, the parlour-maid, has already given us a
+glimpse.
+
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel
+trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural history
+articles for the papers. He inspected the dishes on the side-table,
+decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it. He had passed on
+to a sausage by the time of the next arrival. This was Bill Beverly, a
+cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+
+“Hallo, Major,” he said as he came in, “how’s the gout?”
+
+“It isn’t gout,” said the Major gruffly.
+
+“Well, whatever it is.”
+
+The Major grunted.
+
+“I make a point of being polite at breakfast,” said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge. “Most people are so rude. That’s why I
+asked you. But don’t tell me if it’s a secret. Coffee?” he added, as he
+poured himself out a cup.
+
+“No, thanks. I never drink till I’ve finished eating.”
+
+“Quite right, Major; it’s only manners.” He sat down opposite to the
+other. “Well, we’ve got a good day for our game. It’s going to be
+dashed hot, but that’s where Betty and I score. On the fifth green,
+your old wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in ’43, will
+begin to trouble you; on the eighth, your liver, undermined by years of
+curry, will drop to pieces; on the twelfth—”
+
+“Oh, shut up, you ass!”
+
+“Well, I’m only warning you. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. I was
+just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him this
+morning. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own
+breakfast?”
+
+“Please don’t get up,” said Miss Norris. “I’ll help myself. Good
+morning, Major.” She smiled pleasantly at him. The Major nodded.
+
+“Good morning. Going to be hot.”
+
+“As I was telling him,” began Bill, “that’s where—Hallo, here’s Betty.
+Morning, Cayley.”
+
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the
+painter, who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris
+took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as
+a golfer. She was quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society
+nor Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+
+“By the way, the car will be round at 10.30,” said Cayley, looking up
+from his letters. “You’re lunching there, and driving back directly
+afterwards. Isn’t that right?”
+
+“I don’t see why we shouldn’t have—two rounds,” said Bill hopefully.
+
+“Much too hot in the afternoon,” said the Major. “Get back comfortably
+for tea.”
+
+Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and sat down
+to toast and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The others chattered
+gently while he read his letters.
+
+“Good God!” said Mark suddenly.
+
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. “I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty.”
+
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it herself,
+particularly at rehearsals.
+
+“I say, Cay!” He was frowning to himself—annoyed, puzzled. He held up a
+letter and shook it. “Who do you think this is from?”
+
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders. How
+could he possibly guess?
+
+“Robert,” said Mark.
+
+“Robert?” It was difficult to surprise Cayley. “Well?”
+
+“It’s all very well to say ‘well?’ like that,” said Mark peevishly.
+“He’s coming here this afternoon.”
+
+“I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere.”
+
+“Of course. So did I.” He looked across at Rumbold. “Got any brothers,
+Major?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, take my advice, and don’t have any.”
+
+“Not likely to now,” said the Major.
+
+Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: “But you haven’t any brothers,
+Mr. Ablett?”
+
+“One,” said Mark grimly. “If you’re back in time you’ll see him this
+afternoon. He’ll probably ask you to lend him five pounds. Don’t.”
+
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+
+“I’ve got a brother,” said Bill helpfully, “but I always borrow from
+_him_.”
+
+“Like Robert,” said Mark.
+
+“When was he in England last?” asked Cayley.
+
+“About fifteen years ago, wasn’t it? You’d have been a boy, of course.”
+
+“Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn’t know if he
+had been back since.”
+
+“No. Not to my knowledge.” Mark, still obviously upset, returned to his
+letter.
+
+“Personally,” said Bill, “I think relations are a great mistake.”
+
+“All the same,” said Betty a little daringly, “it must be rather fun
+having a skeleton in the cupboard.”
+
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+
+“If you think it’s fun, I’ll hand him over to you, Betty. If he’s
+anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have been—well,
+Cay knows.”
+
+Cayley grunted.
+
+“All I knew was that one didn’t ask questions about him.”
+
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to ask
+more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely in
+front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere statement
+of fact. But the subject dropped, to be succeeded by the more
+fascinating one of the coming foursome. Mrs. Calladine was driving over
+with the players in order to lunch with an old friend who lived near
+the links, and Mark and Cayley were remaining at home—on affairs.
+Apparently “affairs” were now to include a prodigal brother. But that
+need not make the foursome less enjoyable.
+
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing
+his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their
+business at the Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of
+Antony Gillingham was handing up his ticket at Woodham station and
+asking the way to the village. Having received directions, he left his
+bag with the station-master and walked off leisurely. He is an
+important person to this story, so that it is as well we should know
+something about him before letting him loose in it. Let us stop him at
+the top of the hill on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking than
+we are. Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually
+associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem to
+be absorbing every detail of our person. To strangers this look is
+almost alarming at first, until they discover that his mind is very
+often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left his eyes on guard,
+while he himself follows a train of thought in another direction. Many
+people do this, of course; when, for instance, they are talking to one
+person and trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them.
+Antony’s never did.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never as a
+sailor. When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother’s money,
+£400 a year, old Gillingham looked up from the “Stockbreeders’ Gazette”
+to ask what he was going to do.
+
+“See the world,” said Antony.
+
+“Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to.”
+
+“Right,” said Antony.
+
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper. Antony was a younger son, and, on
+the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets of certain
+other families; Champion Birket’s, for instance. But, then, Champion
+Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London.
+His idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people; and
+to see them from as many angles as possible. There are all sorts in
+London if you know how to look at them. So Antony looked at them—from
+various strange corners; from the view-point of the valet, the
+newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the shop-assistant. With the
+independence of £400 a year behind him, he enjoyed it immensely. He
+never stayed long in one job, and generally closed his connection with
+it by telling his employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood
+between master and servant) exactly what he thought of him. He had no
+difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and
+testimonials he offered his personality and a sporting bet. He would
+take no wages the first month, and—if he satisfied his employer—double
+wages the second. He always got his double wages.
+
+He was now thirty. He had come to Woodham for a holiday, because he
+liked the look of the station. His ticket entitled him to travel
+further, but he had always intended to please himself in the matter.
+Woodham attracted him, and he had a suit-case in the carriage with him
+and money in his pocket. Why not get out?
+
+The landlady of ‘The George’ was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+
+“And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir.”
+
+“Yes, but don’t give yourself any trouble about it. Cold
+anything-you’ve-got.”
+
+“What about beef, sir?” she asked, as if she had a hundred varieties of
+meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+
+“That will do splendidly. And a pint of beer.”
+
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about the
+luggage. Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+
+“It must be rather fun to keep a country inn,” he said, thinking that
+it was about time he started another profession.
+
+“I don’t know about fun, sir. It gives us a living, and a bit over.”
+
+“You ought to take a holiday,” said Antony, looking at him
+thoughtfully.
+
+“Funny thing your saying that,” said the landlord, with a smile.
+“Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday. Offered to take my place an all.” He laughed rumblingly.
+
+“The Red House? Not the Red House, Stanton?”
+
+“That’s right, sir. Stanton’s the next station to Woodham. The Red
+House is about a mile from here—Mr. Ablett’s.”
+
+Antony took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed from “The Red
+House, Stanton,” and signed “Bill.”
+
+“Good old Bill,” he murmured to himself. “He’s getting on.”
+
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist’s shop.
+Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley on the
+other. Something about Bill, his youth and freshness, perhaps,
+attracted Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered, and an address
+given to which they were to be sent, he remembered that he had come
+across an aunt of Beverley’s once at a country-house. Beverley and he
+met again a little later at a restaurant. Both of them were in
+evening-dress, but they did different things with their napkins, and
+Antony was the more polite of the two. However, he still liked Bill. So
+on one of his holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an
+introduction through a mutual friend. Beverley was a little inclined to
+be shocked when he was reminded of their previous meetings, but his
+uncomfortable feeling soon wore off, and he and Antony quickly became
+intimate. But Bill generally addressed him as “Dear Madman” when he
+happened to write.
+
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and call
+upon his friend. Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite the
+lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but sufficiently
+clean and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of the
+house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant lawns the
+whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds....
+
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting, “Open
+the _door_, I say; open the _door!_”
+
+“Hallo!” said Antony in amazement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+Two Men and a Body
+
+
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+
+“Can I help?” said Antony politely.
+
+“Something’s happened,” said Cayley. He was breathing quickly. “I heard
+a shot—it sounded like a shot—I was in the library. A loud bang—I
+didn’t know what it was. And the door’s locked.” He rattled the handle
+again, and shook it. “Open the _door!_” he cried. “I say, Mark, what is
+it? Open the door!”
+
+“But he must have locked the door on purpose,” said Antony. “So why
+should he open it just because you ask him to?”
+
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door
+again. “We must break it in,” he said, putting his shoulder to it.
+“Help me.”
+
+“Isn’t there a window?”
+
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+
+“Window? Window?”
+
+“So much easier to break in a window,” said Antony with a smile. He
+looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall,
+leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of fuss
+was being made about nothing. But then, he had not heard the shot.
+
+“Window—of course! What an idiot I am.”
+
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive. Antony
+followed him. They ran along the front of the house, down a path to the
+left, and then to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front, the
+other close behind him. Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder and
+pulled up short.
+
+“Here,” he said.
+
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which
+opened on to the lawns at the back of the house. But now they were
+closed. Antony couldn’t help feeling a thrill of excitement as he
+followed Cayley’s example, and put his face close up to the glass. For
+the first time he wondered if there really _had_ been a revolver shot
+in this mysterious room. It had all seemed so absurd and melodramatic
+from the other side of the door. But if there had been one shot, why
+should there not be two more?—at the careless fools who were pressing
+their noses against the panes, and asking for it.
+
+“My God, can you see it?” said Cayley in a shaking voice. “Down there.
+Look!”
+
+The next moment Antony saw it. A man was lying on the floor at the far
+end of the room, his back towards them. A man? Or the body of a man?
+
+“Who is it?” said Antony.
+
+“I don’t know,” the other whispered.
+
+“Well, we’d better go and see.” He considered the windows for a moment.
+“I should think, if you put your weight into it, just where they join,
+they’ll give all right. Otherwise, we can kick the glass in.”
+
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it. The window
+gave, and they went into the room. Cayley walked quickly to the body,
+and dropped on his knees by it. For the moment he seemed to hesitate;
+then with an effort he put a hand on to its shoulder and pulled it
+over.
+
+“Thank God!” he murmured, and let the body go again.
+
+“Who is it?” said Antony.
+
+“Robert Ablett.”
+
+“Oh!” said Antony. “I thought his name was Mark,” he added, more to
+himself than to the other.
+
+“Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother.” He shuddered, and
+said, “I was afraid it was Mark.”
+
+“Was Mark in the room too?”
+
+“Yes,” said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, “Who are you?”
+
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle. “I
+suppose he put the key in his pocket,” he said, as he came back to the
+body again.
+
+“Who?”
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Whoever did this,” he said, pointing to the man on the floor. “Is he
+dead?”
+
+“Help me,” said Cayley simply.
+
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at it.
+Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not a pleasant
+sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for the man beside
+him, and a sudden remorse for the careless, easy way in which he had
+treated the affair. But then one always went about imagining that these
+things _didn’t_ happen—except to other people. It was difficult to
+believe in them just at first, when they happened to yourself.
+
+“Did you know him well?” said Antony quietly. He meant, “Were you fond
+of him?”
+
+“Hardly at all. Mark is _my_ cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother I know
+best.”
+
+“Your cousin?”
+
+“Yes.” He hesitated, and then said, “Is he dead? I suppose he is. Will
+you—do you know anything about—about that sort of thing? Perhaps I’d
+better get some water.”
+
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as Antony
+was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from which opened
+two more rooms. Cayley stepped into the passage, and opened the door on
+the right. The door from the office, through which he had gone,
+remained open. The door, at the end of the short passage was shut.
+Antony, kneeling by the body, followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after
+he had disappeared, kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but
+he was not conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was
+with the other man, sympathizing with him.
+
+“Not that water is any use to a dead body,” he said to himself, “but
+the feeling that you’re doing something, when there’s obviously nothing
+to be done, is a great comfort.”
+
+Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded. Cayley
+murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man’s face. Then
+he placed the handkerchief over it. A little sigh escaped Antony, a
+sigh of relief.
+
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+
+“If I can be of any help to you,” said Antony, “please let me.”
+
+“That’s very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police, doctors—I
+don’t know. But you mustn’t let me trespass on your kindness. Indeed, I
+should apologise for having trespassed so much already.”
+
+“I came to see Beverley. He is an old friend of mine.”
+
+“He’s out playing golf. He will be back directly.” Then, as if he had
+only just realized it, “They will all be back directly.”
+
+“I will stay if I can be of any help.”
+
+“Please do. You see, there are women. It will be rather painful. If you
+would—” He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile, pathetic in
+so big and self-reliant a man. “Just your moral support, you know. It
+would be something.”
+
+“Of course.” Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully, “Well,
+then, I’ll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the police.”
+
+“The police? Y-yes.” He looked doubtfully at the other. “I suppose—”
+
+Antony spoke frankly.
+
+“Now, look here, Mr.—er—”
+
+“Cayley. I’m Mark Ablett’s cousin. I live with him.”
+
+“My name’s Gillingham. I’m sorry, I ought to have told you before. Well
+now, Mr. Cayley, we shan’t do any good by pretending. Here’s a man been
+shot—well, somebody shot him.”
+
+“He might have shot himself,” mumbled Cayley.
+
+“Yes, he might have, but he didn’t. Or if he did, somebody was in the
+room at the time, and that somebody isn’t here now. And that somebody
+took a revolver away with him. Well, the police will want to say a word
+about that, won’t they?”
+
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+
+“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, and believe me I do sympathize with
+you, but we can’t be children about it. If your cousin Mark Ablett was
+in the room with this”—he indicated the body—“this man, then—”
+
+“Who said he was?” said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at Antony.
+
+“You did.”
+
+“I was in the library. Mark went in—he may have come out again—I know
+nothing. Somebody else may have gone in—”
+
+“Yes, yes,” said Antony patiently, as if to a little child. “You know
+your cousin; I don’t. Let’s agree that he had nothing to do with it.
+But somebody was in the room when this man was shot, and—well, the
+police will have to know. Don’t you think—” He looked at the telephone.
+“Or would you rather I did it?”
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+
+“May I—er—look round a bit?” Antony nodded towards the open door.
+
+“Oh, do. Yes.” He sat down and drew the telephone towards him. “You
+must make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham. You see, I’ve known Mark
+for a very long time. But, of course, you’re quite right, and I’m
+merely being stupid.” He took off the receiver.
+
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance
+with this “office,” we are coming into it from the hall, through the
+door which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience, has
+been magically unlocked for us. As we stand just inside the door, the
+length of the room runs right and left; or, more accurately, to the
+right only, for the left-hand wall is almost within our reach.
+Immediately opposite to us, across the breadth of the room (some
+fifteen feet), is that other door, by which Cayley went out and
+returned a few minutes ago. In the right-hand wall, thirty feet away
+from us, are the French windows. Crossing the room and going out by the
+opposite door, we come into a passage, from which two rooms lead. The
+one on the right, into which Cayley went, is less than half the length
+of the office, a small, square room, which has evidently been used some
+time or other as a bedroom. The bed is no longer there, but there is a
+basin, with hot and cold taps, in a corner; chairs; a cupboard or two,
+and a chest of drawers. The window faces the same way as the French
+windows in the next room; but anybody looking out of the bedroom window
+has his view on the immediate right shut off by the outer wall of the
+office, which projects, by reason of its greater length, fifteen feet
+further into the lawn.
+
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom. The three
+rooms together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used, perhaps,
+during the occupation of the previous owner, by some invalid, who could
+not manage the stairs, but allowed by Mark to fall into disuse, save
+for the living-room. At any rate, he never slept downstairs.
+
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom, the
+room into which Cayley had been. The window was open, and he looked out
+at the well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful stretch of park
+beyond; and he felt very sorry for the owner of it all, who was now
+mixed up in so grim a business.
+
+“Cayley thinks he did it,” said Antony to himself. “That’s obvious. It
+explains why he wasted so much time banging on the door. Why should he
+try to break a lock when it’s so much easier to break a window? Of
+course he might just have lost his head; on the other hand, he
+might—well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a chance of getting
+away. The same about the police, and—oh, lots of things. Why, for
+instance, did we run all the way round the house in order to get to the
+windows? Surely there’s a back way out through the hall. I must have a
+look later on.”
+
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost _his_ head.
+
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to see
+Cayley in the doorway. He remained looking at him for a moment, asking
+himself a question. It was rather a curious question. He was asking
+himself why the door was open.
+
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained easily
+enough. But why had he expected the door to be shut? He did not
+remember shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see it open now,
+to see Cayley through the doorway, just coming into the room. Something
+working sub-consciously in his brain had told him that it was
+surprising. Why?
+
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment; the
+answer would come to him later on. He had a wonderfully retentive mind.
+Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make its corresponding
+impression somewhere in his brain; often without his being conscious of
+it; and these photographic impressions were always there ready for him
+when he wished to develop them.
+
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+
+“I’ve telephoned,” he said. “They’re sending an inspector or some one
+from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from Stanton.” He
+shrugged his shoulders. “We’re in for it now.”
+
+“How far away is Middleston?” It was the town for which Antony had
+taken a ticket that morning—only six hours ago. How absurd it seemed.
+
+“About twenty miles. These people will be coming back soon.”
+
+“Beverley, and the others?”
+
+“Yes. I expect they’ll want to go away at once.”
+
+“Much better that they should.”
+
+“Yes.” Cayley was silent for a little. Then he said, “You’re staying
+near here?”
+
+“I’m at ‘The George,’ at Woodham.”
+
+“If you’re by yourself, I wish you’d put up here. You see,” he went on
+awkwardly, “you’ll have to _be_ here—for the—the inquest and—and so on.
+If I may offer you my cousin’s hospitality in his—I mean if he
+doesn’t—if he really has—”
+
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+
+“That’s good. Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he’s a friend of yours.
+He’s a good fellow.”
+
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to
+say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn’t
+follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally;
+and when they have gone off, people lose their heads and run away,
+fearing that their story will not be believed. Nevertheless, when
+people run away, whether innocently or guiltily, one can’t help
+wondering which way they went.
+
+“I suppose this way,” said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+
+“Who?” said Cayley stubbornly.
+
+“Well, whoever it was,” said Antony, smiling to himself. “The murderer.
+Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
+killed.”
+
+“I wonder.”
+
+“Well, how else could he have got away? He didn’t go by the windows in
+the next room, because they were shut.”
+
+“Isn’t that rather odd?”
+
+“Well, I thought so at first, but—” He pointed to the wall jutting out
+on the right. “You see, you’re protected from the rest of the house if
+you get out here, and you’re quite close to the shrubbery. If you go
+out at the French windows, I imagine you’re much more visible. All that
+part of the house—” he waved his right hand—“the west, well, north-west
+almost, where the kitchen parts are—you see, you’re hidden from them
+here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite
+right to come out of this window. He’d be into the shrubbery at once.”
+
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+“It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that _you_ know the house pretty well,
+considering that this is the first time you’ve been to it.”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I’m
+right, aren’t I, about why he went out this way?”
+
+“Yes, I think you are.” Cayley looked away—towards the shrubbery. “Do
+you want to go noticing in _there_ now?” He nodded at it.
+
+“I think we might leave that to the police,” said Antony gently.
+“It’s—well, there’s no hurry.”
+
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the
+answer, and could now breathe again.
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Gillingham,” he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+The Brother from Australia
+
+
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason—the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
+when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted
+to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little
+weakness of their host’s, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill
+that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home
+comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs.
+Calladine, without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn’t like it,
+was firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they
+should be back by four.
+
+“I really don’t think Mark wants us, you know,” said the Major. Having
+played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the
+afternoon that he was really better than that. “With this brother of
+his coming, he’ll be only too glad to have us out of the way.”
+
+“Of course he will, Major.” This from Bill. “You’d like to play,
+wouldn’t you, Miss Norris?”
+
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+
+“Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn’t keep you here.
+Besides, it’s so dull for you, not playing.”
+
+“Just nine holes, mother,” pleaded Betty.
+
+“The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were
+having another round, and then it could come back for us,” said Bill
+brilliantly.
+
+“It’s certainly much cooler here than I expected,” put in the Major.
+
+Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the
+golf-house, and of course Mark _would_ be rather glad to have them out
+of the way. So she consented to nine holes; and the match having ended
+all-square, and everybody having played much better than in the
+morning, they drove back to the Red House, very well pleased with
+themselves.
+
+“Hallo,” said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, “isn’t
+that old Tony?”
+
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill
+waved, and he waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in
+front with the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+
+“Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?” He had a sudden
+idea. “_Don’t_ say you’re Mark Ablett’s long-lost brother from
+Australia, though I could quite believe it of you.” He laughed
+boyishly.
+
+“Hallo, Bill,” said Antony quietly. “Will you introduce me? I’m afraid
+I’ve got some bad news.”
+
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in
+a low voice.
+
+“I’m afraid I’m going to give you rather a shock,” he said. “Robert
+Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett’s brother, has been killed.” He jerked a thumb
+over his shoulder. “In the house.”
+
+“Good God!” said the Major.
+
+“Do you mean that he has killed himself?” asked Mrs. Calladine. “Just
+now?”
+
+“It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,”—he half-turned
+to Beverley and explained—“I was coming to see _you_, Bill, and I
+arrived just after the—the death. Mr. Cayley and I found the body. Mr.
+Cayley being busy just now—there are police and doctors and so on in
+the house—he asked me to tell you. He says that no doubt you would
+prefer, the house-party having been broken up in this tragic way, to
+leave as soon as possible.” He gave a pleasant apologetic little smile
+and went on, “I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is
+that you must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and
+please make your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever
+train you wish to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which
+you could go by if you wished it.”
+
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary
+to express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had
+already used. Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying,
+“_Who’s_ killed?” in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was
+instinctively looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a
+messenger announced the death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment
+in order to explain. Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.
+
+“We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand,” she said; “but we
+can’t just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because something
+terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can arrange later
+what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps we—”
+she hesitated.
+
+“The Major and I might be useful anyway,” said Bill. “Isn’t that what
+you mean, Mrs. Calladine?”
+
+“Where is Mark?” said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+
+Antony looked back unwaveringly—and said nothing.
+
+“I think,” said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, “that
+it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night.”
+
+“Very well,” she agreed quietly. “You will come with us, Ruth?”
+
+“I’ll see you safely there,” said Bill in a meek voice. He didn’t quite
+know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the Red House
+for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London seemed
+to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony
+alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+
+“Cayley wants you to stay, Bill. You have to go anyhow, to-morrow,
+Major Rumbold?”
+
+“Yes. I’ll come with you, Mrs. Calladine.”
+
+“Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not
+hesitate to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard
+any telephoning or telegraphing that you want done.” He smiled again
+and added, “Please forgive me if I seem to have taken a good deal upon
+myself, but I just happened to be handy as a mouthpiece for Cayley.” He
+bowed to them and went into the house.
+
+“Well!” said Miss Norris dramatically.
+
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was just
+crossing into the library with Cayley. The latter stopped and nodded to
+Antony.
+
+“Wait a moment, Inspector. Here’s Mr. Gillingham. He’d better come with
+us.” And then to Antony, “This is Inspector Birch.”
+
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+
+“Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together,” explained Cayley.
+
+“Oh! Well, come along, and let’s get the facts sorted out a bit. I like
+to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham.”
+
+“We all do.”
+
+“Oh!” He looked at Antony with interest. “D’you know where you are in
+this case?”
+
+“I know where I’m going to be.”
+
+“Where’s that?”
+
+“Put through it by Inspector Birch,” said Antony with a smile.
+
+The inspector laughed genially.
+
+“Well, I’ll spare you as much as I can. Come along.”
+
+They went into the library. The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it. Antony made
+himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be interested.
+
+“We’ll start with the dead man,” said the Inspector. “Robert Ablett,
+didn’t you say?” He took out his notebook.
+
+“Yes. Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here.”
+
+“Ah!” He began to sharpen a pencil. “Staying in the house?”
+
+“Oh, no!”
+
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew
+about Robert. This was news to him. “I see. Sent out of the country in
+disgrace. What had he done?”
+
+“I hardly know. I was only about twelve at the time. The sort of age
+when you’re told not to ask questions.”
+
+“Inconvenient questions?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“So you don’t really know whether he had been merely wild or—or
+wicked?”
+
+“No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman,” added Cayley. “Perhaps what might
+seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the world.”
+
+“I daresay, Mr. Cayley,” smiled the Inspector. “Anyhow, it was more
+convenient to have him in Australia?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Mark Ablett never talked about him?”
+
+“Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and—well, very glad he
+was in Australia.”
+
+“Did he write Mark sometimes?”
+
+“Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years.”
+
+“Asking for money?”
+
+“Something of the sort. I don’t think Mark always answered them. As far
+as I know, he never sent any money.”
+
+“Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was
+unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?”
+
+“They’d never liked each other as boys. There was never any affection
+between them. I don’t know whose fault it was in the first place—if
+anybody’s.”
+
+“Still, Mark might have given him a hand?”
+
+“I understand,” said Cayley, “that Robert spent his whole life asking
+for hands.”
+
+The inspector nodded.
+
+“I know that sort. Well, now, we’ll go on to this morning. This letter
+that Mark got—did you see it?”
+
+“Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards.”
+
+“Any address?”
+
+“No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper.”
+
+“Where is it now?”
+
+“I don’t know. In Mark’s pocket, I expect.”
+
+“Ah!” He pulled at his beard. “Well, we’ll come to that. Can you
+remember what it said?”
+
+“As far as I remember, something like this: ‘Mark, your loving brother
+is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you
+warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I
+hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.’”
+
+“Ah!” The inspector copied it down carefully. “Did you notice the
+postmark?”
+
+“London.”
+
+“And what was Mark’s attitude?”
+
+“Annoyance, disgust—” Cayley hesitated.
+
+“Apprehension?”
+
+“N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant
+interview, not of any unpleasant outcome for himself.”
+
+“You mean that he wasn’t afraid of violence, or blackmail, or anything
+of that sort?”
+
+“He didn’t appear to be.”
+
+“Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o’clock?”
+
+“Yes, about that.”
+
+“Who was in the house then?”
+
+“Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don’t know which. Of
+course, you will ask them directly, no doubt.”
+
+“With your permission. No guests?”
+
+“They were out all day playing golf,” explained Cayley. “Oh, by the
+way,” he put in, “if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see
+them at all? It isn’t very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I
+suggested—” he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. “I understand
+that they want to go back to London this evening. There’s no objection
+to that, I suppose?”
+
+“You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?”
+
+“Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him
+later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall.”
+
+“That’s all right, Mr. Cayley. Well, now then, let’s go back to three
+o’clock. Where were you when Robert arrived?”
+
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey had
+asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he had last
+seen him going up to the Temple.
+
+“She went away, and I went on with my book. There was a step on the
+stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down. He went into the
+office, and I went on with my book again. I went into the library for a
+moment, to refer to another book, and when I was in there I heard a
+shot. At least, it was a loud bang, I wasn’t sure if it was a shot. I
+stood and listened. Then I came slowly to the door and looked out. Then
+I went back again, hesitated a bit, you know, and finally decided to go
+across to the office, and make sure that it was all right. I turned the
+handle of the door and found it was locked. Then I got frightened, and
+I banged at the door, and shouted, and—well, that was when Mr.
+Gillingham arrived.” He went on to explain how they had found the body.
+
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+
+“Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley.
+Mr. Mark, now. You thought he was in the Temple. Could he have come in,
+and gone up to his room, without your seeing him?”
+
+“There are back stairs. He wouldn’t have used them in the ordinary way,
+of course. But I wasn’t in the hall all the afternoon. He might easily
+have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about it.”
+
+“So that you weren’t surprised when you saw him coming down?”
+
+“Oh, not a bit.”
+
+“Well, did he say anything?”
+
+“He said, ‘Robert’s here?’ or something of the sort. I suppose he’d
+heard the bell, or the voices in the hall.”
+
+“Which way does his bedroom face? Could he have seen him coming down
+the drive?”
+
+“He might have, yes.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, then, I said ‘Yes,’ and he gave a sort of shrug, and said,
+‘Don’t go too far away, I might want you’; and then went in.”
+
+“What did you think he meant by that?”
+
+“Well, he consults me a good deal, you know. I’m his sort of unofficial
+solicitor in a kind of way.”
+
+“This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?”
+
+“Oh, yes. That’s how he regarded it, I’m sure.”
+
+“Yes. How long was it before you heard the shot?”
+
+“Very soon. Two minutes, perhaps.”
+
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully. Suddenly he said:
+
+“What is your theory of Robert’s death?”
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“You’ve probably seen more than I’ve seen,” he answered. “It’s your
+job. I can only speak as a layman—and Mark’s friend.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing
+a revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get
+it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark
+lost his head, finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and a
+dead man at his feet. His one idea was to escape. He locked the door
+almost instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went
+out of the window.”
+
+“Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?”
+
+“I should hardly call it ‘reasonable’ to lose your head,” said Antony,
+getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+
+“Well, you know what I mean. It explains things.”
+
+“Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more complicated.”
+
+“_Have_ you any other explanation?”
+
+“Not I.”
+
+“Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?—anything that he left out after you arrived here?”
+
+“No, thanks. He described it all very accurately.”
+
+“Ah! Well now, about yourself. You’re not staying in the house, I
+gather?”
+
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+
+“Yes. Did you hear the shot?”
+
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. “Yes. Just as I came
+in sight of the house. It didn’t make any impression at the time, but I
+remember it now.”
+
+“Where were you then?”
+
+“Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house.”
+
+“Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?”
+
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+
+“Nobody,” he said. “No.”
+
+“You’re certain of that?”
+
+“Absolutely,” said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could be
+suspected of a mistake.
+
+“Thank you. You’re at ‘The George,’ if I want you?”
+
+“Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest,” explained
+Cayley.
+
+“Good. Well now, about these servants?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+
+
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+
+“Well, you won’t want me, I suppose, inspector,” he said.
+
+“No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You’ll be about, of course?”
+
+“Oh, yes.”
+
+The inspector hesitated.
+
+“I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone.
+You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get
+alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself.”
+
+“Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel
+rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr.
+Gillingham very kindly—” He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the
+door, and left his sentence unfinished.
+
+“Ah, that reminds me,” said the Inspector. “Didn’t you say that one of
+your guests—Mr. Beverley was it?—a friend of Mr. Gillingham’s, was
+staying on?”
+
+“Yes; would you like to see him?”
+
+“Afterwards, if I may.”
+
+“I’ll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a room
+upstairs where I work—any of the servants will show you. Ah, Stevens,
+Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions.”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering.
+
+The housekeeper’s room had heard something of the news by this time,
+and Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff
+exactly what _he_ had said, and what _she_ had said. The details were
+not quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that Mr.
+Mark’s brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and that
+Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she opened
+the door to him. She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens. And Mrs.
+Stevens—if you remember, Audrey—had always said that people didn’t go
+away to Australia except for very good reasons. Elsie agreed with both
+of them, but she had a contribution of her own to make. She had
+actually heard Mr. Mark in the office, threatening his brother.
+
+“You mean Mr. Robert,” said the second parlour-maid. She had been
+having a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang. In fact,
+it had woken her up—just like something going off, it was.
+
+“It was Mr. Mark’s voice,” said Elsie firmly.
+
+“Pleading for mercy,” said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully from
+the door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she had
+not given her presence away. But it was hard to listen in silence when
+she knew so well from her novelettes just what happened on these
+occasions.
+
+“I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind,” said Mrs. Stevens.
+“Well, Elsie?”
+
+“He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, ‘It’s my turn now,’ he
+said, triumphant-like.”
+
+“Well, if you think that’s a threat, dear, you’re very particular, I
+must say.”
+
+But Audrey remembered Elsie’s words when she was in front of Inspector
+Birch. She gave her own evidence with the readiness of one who had
+already repeated it several times, and was examined and cross-examined
+by the Inspector with considerable skill. The temptation to say, “Never
+mind about what _you_ said to _him_,” was strong, but he resisted it,
+knowing that in this way he would discover best what _he_ said to
+_her_. By this time both his words and the looks he gave her were
+getting their full value from Audrey, but the general meaning of them
+seemed to be well-established.
+
+“Then you didn’t see Mr. Mark at all.”
+
+“No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room. Or come
+in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by the
+back.”
+
+“Yes. Well, I think that’s all that I want to know, thank you very
+much. Now what about the other servants?”
+
+“Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together,” said Audrey
+eagerly. “He was saying—Mr. Mark, I mean—”
+
+“Ah! Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself. Who is Elsie,
+by the way?”
+
+“One of the housemaids. Shall I send her to you, sir?”
+
+“Please.”
+
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message. It interrupted a few remarks
+from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie’s conduct that afternoon which were
+(Elsie thought) much better interrupted. In Mrs. Stevens’ opinion any
+crime committed that afternoon in the office was as nothing to the
+double crime committed by the unhappy Elsie.
+
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have
+said nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon. She was bad
+at concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering it.
+Elsie knew perfectly well that she had no business to come down the
+front stairs, and it was no excuse to say that she happened to come out
+of Miss Norris’ room just at the head of the stairs, and didn’t think
+it would matter, as there was nobody in the hall, and what was she
+doing anyhow in Miss Norris’ room at that time? Returning a magazine?
+Lent by Miss Norris, might she ask? Well, not exactly lent. Really,
+Elsie!—and this in a respectable house! In vain for poor Elsie to plead
+that a story by her favourite author was advertised on the cover, with
+a picture of the villain falling over the cliff. “That’s where _you’ll_
+go to, my girl, if you aren’t careful,” said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch. All that interested him was that she was passing
+through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+
+“And stopped to listen?”
+
+“Certainly not,” said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody really
+understood her. “I was just passing through the hall, just as you might
+have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets, didn’t
+think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done.” And she
+sniffed slightly.
+
+“Come, come,” said the Inspector soothingly, “I didn’t mean to
+suggest—”
+
+“Everyone is very unkind to me,” said Elsie between sniffs, “and
+there’s that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they’d have been, if
+it had been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this day.”
+
+“Nonsense, we’re going to be very proud of you. I shouldn’t be
+surprised if your evidence were of very great importance. Now then,
+what was it you heard? Try to remember the exact words.”
+
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+
+“Yes, but who said it?”
+
+“Mr. Robert.”
+
+“How do you know it was Mr. Robert? Had you heard his voice before?”
+
+“I don’t take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance
+with Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn’t Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr.
+Cayley, nor any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown Mr.
+Robert into the office not five minutes before—”
+
+“Quite so,” said the Inspector hurriedly. “Mr. Robert, undoubtedly.
+Working in a passage?”
+
+“That was what it sounded like, sir.”
+
+“H’m. Working a passage over—could that have been it?”
+
+“That’s right, sir,” said Elsie eagerly. “He’d worked his passage
+over.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“And then Mr. Mark said loudly—sort of triumphant-like—‘It’s _my_ turn
+now. You wait.’”
+
+“Triumphantly?”
+
+“As much as to say his chance had come.”
+
+“And that’s all you heard?”
+
+“That’s all, sir—not standing there listening, but just passing through
+the hall, as it might be any time.”
+
+“Yes. Well, that’s really very important, Elsie. Thank you.”
+
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen. She was
+ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own. There was a
+point which was puzzling him. He went through the hall to the front of
+the house and stood at the open door, looking out on to the drive. He
+and Cayley had run round the house to the left. Surely it would have
+been quicker to have run round to the right? The front door was not in
+the middle of the house, it was to the end. Undoubtedly they went the
+longest way round. But perhaps there was something in the way, if one
+went to the right—a wall, say. He strolled off in that direction,
+followed a path round the house and came in sight of the office
+windows. Quite simple, and about half the distance of the other way. He
+went on a little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in
+windows. It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage. At the
+end of the passage was another door. He opened it and found himself in
+the hall again.
+
+“And, of course, that’s the quickest way of the three,” he said to
+himself. “Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left and
+there you are. Instead of which, we ran the longest way round the
+house. Why? Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape? Only, in
+that case—why _run?_ Also, how did Cayley know then that it was Mark
+who was trying to escape? If he had guessed—well, not guessed, but been
+afraid—that one had shot the other, it was much more likely that Robert
+had shot Mark. Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought.
+The first thing he had said when he turned the body over was, ‘Thank
+God! I was afraid it was Mark.’ But why should he want to give _Robert_
+time in which to get away? And again—why _run,_ if he did want to give
+him time?”
+
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and sat
+down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+
+“Now then,” he said, “let’s go through Cayley’s mind carefully, and see
+what we get.”
+
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office. The
+servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his book.
+Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case he is
+wanted, and goes to meet his brother. What does Cayley expect? Possibly
+that he won’t be wanted at all; possibly that his advice may be wanted
+in the matter, say, of paying Robert’s debts, or getting him a passage
+back to Australia; possibly that his physical assistance may be wanted
+to get an obstreperous Robert out of the house. Well, he sits there for
+a moment, and then goes into the library. Why not? He is still within
+reach, if wanted. Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot. A pistol-shot is the
+last noise you expect to hear in a country-house; very natural, then,
+that for the moment he would hardly realize what it was. He listens—and
+hears nothing more. Perhaps it wasn’t a pistol-shot after all. After a
+moment or two he goes to the library door again. The profound silence
+makes him uneasy now. _Was_ it a pistol-shot? Absurd! Still—no harm in
+going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure himself. So he
+tries the door—and finds it locked!
+
+What are his emotions now? Alarm, uncertainty. Something is happening.
+Incredible though it seems, it must have been a pistol-shot. He is
+banging at the door and calling out to Mark, and there is no answer.
+Alarm—yes. But alarm for whose safety? Mark’s, obviously. Robert is a
+stranger; Mark is an intimate friend. Robert has written a letter that
+morning, the letter of a man in a dangerous temper. Robert is the tough
+customer; Mark the highly civilized gentleman. If there has been a
+quarrel, it is Robert who has shot Mark. He bangs at the door again.
+
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley’s conduct
+had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment, Cayley had
+lost his head. Anybody else might have done the same. But, as soon as
+Antony suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw that that was the
+obvious thing to do. So he leads the way to the windows—the longest
+way.
+
+Why? To give the murderer time to escape? If he had thought then that
+Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes. But he thinks that Robert is the
+murderer. If he is not hiding anything, he _must_ think so. Indeed he
+says so, when he sees the body; “I was afraid it was Mark,” he says,
+when he finds that it is Robert who is killed. No reason, then, for
+wishing to gain time. On the contrary, every instinct would urge him to
+get into the room as quickly as possible, and seize the wicked Robert.
+Yet he goes the longest way round. Why? And then, why _run?_
+
+“That’s the question,” said Antony to himself, as he filled his pipe,
+“and bless me if I know the answer. It may be, of course, that Cayley
+is just a coward. He was in no hurry to get close to Robert’s revolver,
+and yet wanted me to think that he was bursting with eagerness. That
+would explain it, but then that makes Cayley out a coward. Is he? At
+any rate he pushed his face up against the window bravely enough. No, I
+want a better answer than that.”
+
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking. There were one
+or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be taken out
+and looked at. For the moment he left them undisturbed. They would come
+back to him later when he wanted them.
+
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+
+“I was wanting a new profession,” he thought, “and now I’ve found it.
+Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound. I shall begin to-day.”
+
+Whatever Antony Gillingham’s other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and
+quickly. And this clear brain of his had already told him that he was
+the only person in the house at that moment who was unhandicapped in
+the search for truth. The inspector had arrived in it to find a man
+dead and a man missing. It was extremely probable, no doubt, that the
+missing man had shot the dead man. But it was more than extremely
+probable, it was almost certain that the Inspector would start with the
+idea that this extremely probable solution was the one true solution,
+and that, in consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without
+prejudice any other solution. As regards all the rest of them—Cayley,
+the guests, the servants—they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark
+(or possibly, for all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against,
+each other; they had formed some previous opinion, from what had been
+said that morning, of the sort of man Robert was. No one of them could
+consider the matter with an unbiased mind.
+
+But Antony could. He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about
+Robert. He had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead man
+was. He knew that a tragedy had happened before he knew that anybody
+was missing. Those first impressions, which are so vitally important,
+had been received solely on the merits of the case; they were founded
+on the evidence of his senses, not on the evidence of his emotions or
+of other people’s senses. He was in a much better position for getting
+at the truth than was the Inspector.
+
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector Birch
+a slight injustice. Birch was certainly prepared to believe that Mark
+had shot his brother. Robert had been shown into the office (witness
+Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert (witness Cayley); Mark and Robert
+had been heard talking (witness Elsie); there was a shot (witness
+everybody); the room had been entered and Robert’s body had been found
+(witness Cayley and Gillingham). And Mark was missing. Obviously, then,
+Mark had killed his brother: accidentally, as Cayley believed, or
+deliberately, as Elsie’s evidence seemed to suggest. There was no point
+in looking for a difficult solution to a problem, when the easy
+solution had no flaw in it. But at the same time Birch would have
+preferred the difficult solution, simply because there was more credit
+attached to it. A “sensational” arrest of somebody in the house would
+have given him more pleasure than a commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett
+across country. Mark must be found, guilty or not guilty. But there
+were other possibilities. It would have interested Antony to know that,
+just at the time when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced
+inspector, the Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly
+upon the possibilities in connection with Mr. Gillingham. Was it only a
+coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did? And Mr.
+Beverley’s curious answers when asked for some account of his friend.
+An assistant in a tobacconist’s, a waiter! An odd man, Mr. Gillingham,
+evidently. It might be as well to keep an eye on him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+Outside Or Inside?
+
+
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different
+manner. The Major, gruff and simple: “If you want me, command me.
+Anything I can do—Good-bye”; Betty, silently sympathetic, with
+everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell;
+Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know _what_ to say, but
+apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into one
+despairing gesture that Cayley’s unvarying “Thank you very much” might
+have been taken this time as gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with a
+special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to join
+Antony on his garden seat.
+
+“Well, this is a rum show,” said Bill as he sat down.
+
+“Very rum, William.”
+
+“And you actually walked right into it?”
+
+“Right into it,” said Antony.
+
+“Then you’re the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn’t keep to the
+point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but
+kept asking me questions about where I’d met you first, and all sorts
+of dull things like that. Now, what really happened?”
+
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told
+the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate
+“Good Lords” and whistles.
+
+“I say, it’s a bit of a business, isn’t it? Where do _I_ come in,
+exactly?”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through
+it by that inspector as if I knew all about it—what’s the idea?”
+
+Antony smiled at him.
+
+“Well, there’s nothing to worry about, you know. Naturally Birch wanted
+to see one of you so as to know what you’d all been doing all day. And
+Cayley was nice enough to think that you’d be company for me, as I knew
+you already. And—well, that’s all.”
+
+“You’re staying here, in the house?” said Bill eagerly. “Good man.
+That’s splendid.”
+
+“It reconciles you to the departure of—some of the others?”
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+“Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway,” he murmured.
+
+“I congratulate you. I liked her looks. And that grey dress. A nice
+comfortable sort of woman——”
+
+“You fool, that’s her mother.”
+
+“Oh, I beg your pardon. But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she does
+just now. So try and put up with me.”
+
+“I say, do you really?” said Bill, rather flattered. He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+
+“Yes. You see, things are going to happen here soon.”
+
+“Inquests and that sort of thing?”
+
+“Well, perhaps something before that. Hallo, here comes Cayley.”
+
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big,
+heavy-shouldered man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly
+faces which can never quite be called plain. “Bad luck on Cayley,” said
+Bill. “I say, ought I to tell him how sorry I am and all that sort of
+thing? It seems so dashed inadequate.”
+
+“I shouldn’t bother,” said Antony.
+
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+
+“We can make room for you,” said Bill, getting up.
+
+“Oh, don’t bother, thanks. I just came to say,” he went on to Antony,
+“that naturally they’ve rather lost their heads in the kitchen, and
+dinner won’t be till half-past eight. Do just as you like about
+dressing, of course. And what about your luggage?”
+
+“I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see
+about it.”
+
+“The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the
+station.”
+
+“It’s very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow, to
+pack up and pay my bill. Besides, it’s a good evening for a walk. If
+you wouldn’t mind it, Bill?”
+
+“I should love it.”
+
+“Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I’ll send the car round for it
+later.”
+
+“Thanks very much.”
+
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay. Antony wondered
+whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon’s happenings, or whether
+it was the one subject he wished to avoid. To break the silence he
+asked carelessly if the Inspector had gone.
+
+Cayley nodded. Then he said abruptly, “He’s getting a warrant for
+Mark’s arrest.”
+
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug of
+the shoulders, “Well, he was bound to do that, wasn’t he? It doesn’t
+follow that—well, it doesn’t mean anything. They naturally want to get
+hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty.”
+
+“Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?” said Cayley, looking at him
+steadily.
+
+“Mark? It’s absurd,” said Bill impetuously.
+
+“Bill’s loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley.”
+
+“And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?”
+
+“Exactly. So perhaps I might be too frank.”
+
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the
+seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his
+hands, gazing at the ground.
+
+“I want you to be quite frank,” he said at last. “Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned. So I want to know how my suggestion
+strikes you—who have no prejudices either way.”
+
+“Your suggestion?”
+
+“My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely
+accidental—as I told the Inspector.”
+
+Bill looked up with interest.
+
+“You mean that Robert did the hold-up business,” he said, “and there
+was a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then Mark lost
+his head and bolted? That sort of idea?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“Well, that seems all right.” He turned to Antony. “There’s nothing
+wrong with that, is there? It’s the most natural explanation to anyone
+who knows Mark.”
+
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+
+“I suppose it is,” he said slowly. “But there’s one thing that worries
+me rather.”
+
+“What’s that?” Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+
+“The key.”
+
+“The key?” said Bill.
+
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony. “What about the key?” he
+asked.
+
+“Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered. Suppose Robert was
+killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought of
+nothing but getting away before anyone could see him. Well, very likely
+he’d lock the door and put the key in his pocket. He’d do it without
+thinking, just to gain a moment’s time.”
+
+“Yes, that’s what I suggest.”
+
+“It seems sound enough,” said Bill. “Sort of thing you’d do without
+thinking. Besides, if you are going to run away, it gives you more of a
+chance.”
+
+“Yes, that’s all right if the key is there. But suppose it isn’t
+there?”
+
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact,
+startled them both. They looked at him wonderingly.
+
+“What do you mean?” said Cayley.
+
+“Well, it’s just a question of where people happen to keep their keys.
+You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your door in
+case anybody comes wandering in when you’ve only got one sock and a
+pair of braces on. Well, that’s natural enough. And if you look round
+the bedrooms of almost any house, you’ll find the keys all ready, so
+that you can lock yourself in at a moment’s notice. But downstairs
+people don’t lock themselves in. It’s really never done at all. Bill,
+for instance, has never locked himself into the dining-room in order to
+be alone with the sherry. On the other hand, all women, and
+particularly servants, have a horror of burglars. And if a burglar gets
+in by the window, they like to limit his activities to that particular
+room. So they keep the keys on the _out_side of the doors, and lock the
+doors when they go to bed.” He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and
+added, “At least, my mother always used to.”
+
+“You mean,” said Bill excitedly, “that the key was on the outside of
+the door when Mark went into the room?”
+
+“Well, I was just wondering.”
+
+“Have you noticed the other rooms—the billiard-room, and library, and
+so on?” said Cayley.
+
+“I’ve only just thought about it while I’ve been sitting out here. You
+live here—haven’t you ever noticed them?”
+
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+
+“It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can’t say that I have.” He
+turned to Bill. “Have you?”
+
+“Good Lord, no. I should never worry about a thing like that.”
+
+“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” laughed Antony. “Well, we can have a look when
+we go in. If the other keys are outside, then this one was probably
+outside too, and in that case—well, it makes it more interesting.”
+
+Cayley said nothing. Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said, “Does
+it make much difference?”
+
+“It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there. Take your
+accidental theory and see where you get to. No instinctive turning of
+the key now, is there? He’s got to open the door to get it, and opening
+the door means showing his head to anybody in the hall—his cousin, for
+instance, whom he left there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark’s state
+of mind, frightened to death lest he should be found with the body,
+going to do anything so foolhardy as that?”
+
+“He needn’t have been afraid of _me_,” said Cayley.
+
+“Then why didn’t he call for you? He knew you were about. You could
+have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice. But the whole theory
+of Mark’s escape is that he was afraid of you and of everybody else,
+and that he had no other idea but to get out of the room himself, and
+prevent you or the servants from coming into it. If the key had been on
+the inside, he would probably have locked the door. If it were on the
+outside, he almost certainly wouldn’t.”
+
+“Yes, I expect you’re right,” said Bill thoughtfully. “Unless he took
+the key in with him, and locked the door at once.”
+
+“Exactly. But in that case you have to build up a new theory entirely.”
+
+“You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?”
+
+“Yes; that, certainly. But it also seems to make Mark out an absolute
+idiot. Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons which neither
+of you know anything about, he had wished to get rid of his brother.
+Would he have done it like that? Just killed him and then run away?
+Why, that’s practically suicide—suicide whilst of unsound mind. No. If
+you really wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a
+little bit more cleverly than that. You’d begin by treating him as a
+friend, so as to avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at last,
+you would try to make it look like an accident, or suicide, or the work
+of some other man. Wouldn’t you?”
+
+“You mean you’d give yourself a bit of a run for your money?”
+
+“Yes, that’s what I mean. If you were going to do it deliberately, that
+is to say—and lock yourself in before you began.”
+
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea. With
+his eyes still on the ground, he said now: “I hold to my opinion that
+it was purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head and ran away.”
+
+“But what about the key?” asked Bill.
+
+“We don’t know yet that the keys were outside. I don’t at all agree
+with Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms are always
+outside the doors. Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I think we shall
+probably find that these are inside.”
+
+“Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory is
+probably the correct one. Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered—that’s all. You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and tell
+you what I thought. But no doubt you’re right, and we shall find them
+inside, as you say.
+
+“Even if the key was outside,” went on Cayley stubbornly, “I still
+think it might have been accidental. He might have taken it in with
+him, knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and not
+wishing to be interrupted.”
+
+“But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out? Besides, I should think that if a man were
+going to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation, the
+last thing he would do would be to barricade himself in with him. He
+would want to open all the doors and say, ‘Get out of it!’”
+
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate. Antony gave a little
+apologetic laugh and stood up.
+
+“Well, come on, Bill,” he said; “we ought to be stepping.” He held out
+a hand and pulled his friend up. Then, turning to Cayley, he went on,
+“You must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on rather. Of
+course, I was considering the matter purely as an outsider; just as a
+problem, I mean, which didn’t concern the happiness of any of my
+friends.”
+
+“That’s all right, Mr. Gillingham,” said Cayley, standing up too. “It
+is for you to make allowances for _me_. I’m sure you will. You say that
+you’re going up to the inn now about your bag?”
+
+“Yes.” He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland stretching
+about the house. “Let me see; it’s over in _that_ direction, isn’t it?”
+He pointed southwards. “Can we get to the village that way, or must we
+go by the road?”
+
+“I’ll show you, my boy,” said Bill.
+
+“Bill will show you. The park reaches almost as far as the village.
+Then I’ll send the car round in about half an hour.”
+
+“Thanks very much.”
+
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house. Antony took hold of
+Bill’s arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+Portrait of a Gentleman
+
+
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and
+gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park
+dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A
+thick belt of trees on the left divided them from the main road.
+
+“Ever been here before?” said Antony suddenly.
+
+“Oh, rather. Dozens of times.”
+
+“I meant just here—where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and play
+billiards all the time?”
+
+“Oh Lord, no!”
+
+“Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks never by
+any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the dusty
+road think how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine them
+doing all sorts of jolly things inside.” He pointed to the right. “Ever
+been over there?”
+
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+
+“Well, not very much. I’ve often been along here, of course, because
+it’s the short way to the village.”
+
+“Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark.”
+
+“What sort of things?”
+
+“Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners for Men,
+and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying with him,
+and how many rows your little house-party has had this week, and how
+you get on with Cayley, and all the rest of it.”
+
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+
+“I say, are you being the complete detective?”
+
+“Well, I wanted a new profession,” smiled the other.
+
+“What fun! I mean,” he corrected himself apologetically, “one oughtn’t
+to say that, when there’s a man dead in the house, and one’s host—” He
+broke off a little uncertainly, and then rounded off his period by
+saying again, “By Jove, what a rum show it is. Good Lord!”
+
+“Well?” said Antony. “Carry on, Mark.”
+
+“What do I think of him?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had
+never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind. What _did_ he
+think of Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+
+“I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken
+down by the reporters, so you needn’t bother about a split infinitive
+or two. Talk about anything you like, how you like. Well, I’ll give you
+a start. Which do you enjoy more—a week-end here or at the
+Barrington’s, say?”
+
+“Well; of course, that would depend—”
+
+“Take it that she was there in both cases.”
+
+“Ass,” said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony’s ribs. “It’s a little
+difficult to say,” he went on. “Of course they do you awfully well
+here.”
+
+“Yes. I don’t think I know any house where things are so comfortable.
+One’s room—the food—drinks—cigars—the way everything’s arranged. All
+that sort of thing. They look after you awfully well.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“Yes.” He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a new
+idea: “They look after you awfully well. Well, that’s just what it is
+about Mark. That’s one of his little ways. Weaknesses. Looking after
+you.”
+
+“Arranging things for you?”
+
+“Yes. Of course, it’s a delightful house, and there’s plenty to do, and
+opportunities for every game or sport that’s ever been invented, and,
+as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony, there’s a
+faint sort of feeling that—well, that one is on parade, as it were.
+You’ve got to do as you’re told.”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
+things, and it’s understood that the guests fall in with the
+arrangement. For instance, Betty—Miss Calladine—and I were going to
+play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She’s frightfully
+hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I’m rather
+erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us
+what we were going to do. Well, he’d got up a little tournament for us
+after tea—handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out
+neatly in red and black ink—prizes and all—quite decent ones, you know.
+He’d had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
+Betty and I wouldn’t have spoilt the court, and we’d have been quite
+ready to play again after tea—I had to give her half-fifteen according
+to his handicap—but somehow—” Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“It didn’t quite fit in?”
+
+“No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
+a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn’t play.” He laughed, and added,
+“It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played.”
+
+“Do you mean you wouldn’t have been asked here again?”
+
+“Probably. Well, I don’t know. Not for some time, anyway.”
+
+“Really, Bill?”
+
+“Oh, rather! He’s a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris—did you
+see her—_she’s_ done for herself. I don’t mind betting what you like
+that _she never_ comes here again.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+Bill laughed to himself.
+
+“We were all in it, really—at least, Betty and I were. There’s supposed
+to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
+her?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
+of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn’t
+believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and
+yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in
+ghosts at all. Rum chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris—she’s an actress,
+some actress too—dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And
+poor Mark was frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know.”
+
+“What about the others?”
+
+“Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I’d told her—Miss Norris I mean—not
+to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn’t there—Betty
+wouldn’t let her be. As for the Major, I don’t believe anything would
+frighten _him_.”
+
+“Where did the ghost appear?”
+
+“Down by the bowling-green. That’s supposed to be its haunt, you know.
+We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
+you know the bowling-green?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I’ll show it to you after dinner.”
+
+“I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?”
+
+“Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he’s just like that.”
+
+“Was he angry with all of you?”
+
+“Oh, yes—sulky, you know.”
+
+“This morning?”
+
+“Oh, no. He got over it—he generally does. He’s just like a child.
+That’s really it, Tony; he’s like a child in some ways. As a matter of
+fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And
+yesterday.”
+
+“Yesterday?”
+
+“Rather. We all said we’d never seen him in such form.”
+
+“Is he generally in form?”
+
+“He’s quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way. He’s
+rather vain and childish—well, like I’ve been telling you—and
+self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and——” Bill broke off
+suddenly. “I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
+host like this.”
+
+“Don’t think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
+with a warrant out against him.”
+
+“Oh! but that’s all rot, you know.”
+
+“It’s the fact, Bill.”
+
+“Yes, but I mean, he didn’t do it. He wouldn’t murder anybody. It’s a
+funny thing to say, but—well, he’s not big enough for it. He’s got his
+faults, like all of us, but they aren’t on that scale.”
+
+“One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper.”
+
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. “All the same,” he
+said, “I can’t believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean.”
+
+“Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
+run away?”
+
+Bill considered for a moment.
+
+“Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
+the ghost. Of course, that’s different, rather.”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know. In each case it’s a question of obeying your
+instinct instead of your reason.”
+
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
+behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
+the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently down to
+the village of Woodham—a few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of
+a church showing above the green.
+
+“Well, now,” said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, “what about
+Cayley?”
+
+“How do you mean, what about him?”
+
+“I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You
+were wonderful. Now let’s have Cayley’s character. Cayley from within.”
+
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a
+blooming novelist.
+
+“Besides,” he added, “Mark’s easy. Cayley’s one of these heavy, quiet
+people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself
+away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn’t he?”
+
+“Some women like that type of ugliness.”
+
+“Yes, that’s true. Between ourselves, I think there’s one here who
+does. Rather a pretty girl at Jallands”—he waved his left hand—“down
+that way.”
+
+“What’s Jallands?”
+
+“Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it’s a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss
+Norbury—the girl—has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to
+prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn’t much time for
+that sort of thing.”
+
+“What sort of thing?”
+
+“Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she’s been to any
+theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do.”
+
+“Mark kept him busy?”
+
+“Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing
+something for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And,
+funnily enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark.”
+
+“He was fond of him?”
+
+“Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He’d sized Mark up,
+of course—his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all
+the rest of it—but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to
+manage him.”
+
+“Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests—you and Miss
+Norris and all of them?”
+
+“Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself.
+We didn’t see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to
+enjoy ourselves, and—well, _he_ wasn’t.”
+
+“He wasn’t there when the ghost walked?”
+
+“No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I
+expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls
+will be girls....—Hallo, here we are.”
+
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to the
+landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room. It appeared that he had not
+very much packing to do, after all. He returned his brushes to his bag,
+glanced round to see that nothing else had been taken out, and went
+down again to settle his bill. He had decided to keep on his room for a
+few days; partly to save the landlord and his wife the disappointment
+of losing a guest so suddenly, partly in case he found it undesirable
+later on to remain at the Red House. For he was taking himself
+seriously as a detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while
+getting all the fun out of it which was possible) at every new
+profession he adopted; and he felt that there might come a time—after
+the inquest—say when he could not decently remain at the Red House as a
+guest, a friend of Bill’s, enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley,
+whichever was to be regarded as his host, without forfeiting his
+independent attitude towards the events of that afternoon. At present
+he was staying in the house merely as a necessary witness, and, since
+he was there, Cayley could not object to him using his eyes; but if,
+after the inquest, it appeared that there was still work for a pair of
+independent and very keen eyes to do, then he must investigate, either
+with his host’s approval or from beneath the roof of some other host;
+the landlord of ‘The George,’ for instance, who had no feelings in the
+matter.
+
+For of one thing Antony was certain. Cayley knew more than he professed
+to know. That is to say, he knew more than he wanted other people to
+know he knew. Antony was one of the “other people”; if, therefore, he
+was for trying to find out what it was that Cayley knew, he could
+hardly expect Cayley’s approval of his labours. It would be ‘The
+George,’ then, for Antony after the inquest.
+
+What was the truth? Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even
+though he were hiding something. All that could be said against him at
+the moment was that he had gone the longest way round to get into the
+locked office—and that this did not fit in with what he had told the
+Inspector. But it did fit in with the theory that he had been an
+accessory after the event, and that he wanted (while appearing to be in
+a hurry) to give his cousin as much time as possible in which to
+escape. That might not be the true solution, but it was at least a
+workable one. The theory which he had suggested to the Inspector was
+not.
+
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which
+Antony could consider all these matters from within The Red House. The
+car was at the door. He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on
+the front seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+“Do You Follow Me, Watson?”
+
+
+Antony’s bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner,
+and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the
+window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned
+over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He
+was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down
+his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an “Hallo!”
+through the door, and came in.
+
+“I say, buck up, old boy, I’m hungry,” he said.
+
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+
+“Where’s Mark?” he said.
+
+“Mark? You mean Cayley.”
+
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. “Yes, I mean Cayley. Is
+he down? I say, I shan’t be a moment, Bill.” He got up from the bed and
+went on briskly with his dressing. “Oh, by the way,” said Bill, taking
+his place on the bed, “your idea about the keys is a wash-out.”
+
+“Why, how do you mean?”
+
+“I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
+thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the
+others are inside.”
+
+“Yes, I know.”
+
+“You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?”
+
+“I did, Bill,” said Antony apologetically.
+
+“Bother! I hoped you’d forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on the
+head, doesn’t it?”
+
+“I never had a theory. I only said that _if_ they were outside, it
+would probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that
+case Cayley’s theory was knocked on the head.”
+
+“Well, now, it isn’t, and we don’t know anything. Some were outside and
+some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting. When
+you were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the
+idea of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him.”
+
+“It’s going to be exciting enough,” said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+“Well, let’s come down; I’m ready now.”
+
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry as
+to the guest’s comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
+conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+
+“You were quite right about the keys,” said Bill, during a pause. He
+was less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than
+they, to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds of
+them all.
+
+“Keys?” said Cayley blankly.
+
+“We were wondering whether they were outside or inside.”
+
+“Oh! oh, yes!” He looked slowly round the hall, at the different doors,
+and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony. “We both seem to have been
+right, Mr. Gillingham. So we don’t get much farther.”
+
+“No.” He gave a shrug. “I just wondered, you know. I thought it was
+worth mentioning.”
+
+“Oh, quite. Not that you would have convinced me, you know. Just as
+Elsie’s evidence doesn’t convince me.”
+
+“Elsie?” said Bill excitedly. Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+
+“One of the housemaids,” explained Cayley. “You didn’t hear what she
+told the Inspector? Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that class
+make things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine.”
+
+“What was it?” said Bill.
+
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door that
+afternoon.
+
+“You were in the library then, of course,” said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other. “She might have gone through the hall
+without your hearing.”
+
+“Oh, I’ve no doubt she was there, and heard voices. Perhaps heard those
+very words. But—” He broke off, and then added impatiently, “It was
+accidental. I know it was accidental. What’s the good of talking as if
+Mark was a murderer?” Dinner was announced at that moment, and as they
+went in, he added, “What’s the good of talking about it at all, if it
+comes to that?”
+
+“What, indeed?” said Antony, and to Bill’s great disappointment they
+talked of books and politics during the meal.
+
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were
+alight. He had business to attend to, as was natural. Bill would look
+after his friend. Bill was only too willing. He offered to beat Antony
+at billiards, to play him at piquet, to show him the garden by
+moonlight, or indeed to do anything else with him that he required.
+
+“Thank the Lord you’re here,” he said piously. “I couldn’t have stood
+it alone.”
+
+“Let’s go outside,” suggested Antony. “It’s quite warm. Somewhere where
+we can sit down, right away from the house. I want to talk to you.”
+
+“Good man. What about the bowling-green?”
+
+“Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren’t you? Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?”
+
+“Rather. The ideal place. You’ll see.”
+
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left.
+Coming from Woodham, Antony had approached the house that afternoon
+from the other side. The way they were going now would take them out at
+the opposite end of the park, on the high road to Stanton, a country
+town some three miles away. They passed by a gate and a gardener’s
+lodge, which marked the limit of what auctioneers like to call “the
+ornamental grounds of the estate,” and then the open park was before
+them.
+
+“Sure we haven’t missed it?” said Antony. The park lay quietly in the
+moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way ahead of
+them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+
+“Rum, isn’t it?” said Bill. “An absurd place for a bowling green, but I
+suppose it was always here.”
+
+“Yes, but always where? It’s short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but—Hallo!”
+
+They had come to the place. The road bent round to the right, but they
+kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and there in
+front of them was the green. A dry ditch, ten feet wide and six feet
+deep, surrounded it, except in the one place where the path went
+forward. Two or three grass steps led down to the green, on which there
+was a long wooden bench for the benefit of spectators.
+
+“Yes, it hides itself very nicely,” said Antony. “Where do you keep the
+bowls?”
+
+“In a sort of summer house place. Round here.”
+
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it—a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+
+“H’m. Jolly view.”
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+“Nobody sits there. It’s just for keeping things out of the rain.”
+
+They finished their circuit of the green—“Just in case anybody’s in the
+ditch,” said Antony—and then sat down on the bench.
+
+“Now then,” said Bill, “We are alone. Fire ahead.”
+
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little. Then he took his pipe out of
+his mouth and turned to his friend.
+
+“Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?” he asked.
+
+“Watson?”
+
+“Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one. Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me
+chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your own
+two or three days after I have made them myself—all that kind of thing?
+Because it all helps.”
+
+“My dear Tony,” said Bill delightedly, “need you ask?” Antony said
+nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, “I perceive from the
+strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert. Holmes, you astonish me. Tut, tut, you know my methods. Where
+is the tobacco? The tobacco is in the Persian slipper. Can I leave my
+practice for a week? I can.”
+
+Antony smiled and went on smoking. After waiting hopefully for a minute
+or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+
+“Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything. Also whom do you suspect?”
+
+Antony began to talk.
+
+“Do you remember,” he said, “one of Holmes’s little scores over Watson
+about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging? Poor old
+Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he had never
+thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them as a matter
+of course, and knew that there were seventeen. And that was supposed to
+be the difference between observation and non-observation. Watson was
+crushed again, and Holmes appeared to him more amazing than ever. Now,
+it always seemed to me that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and
+Watson the sensible person. What on earth is the point of keeping in
+your head an unnecessary fact like that? If you really want to know at
+any time the number of steps to your lodging, you can ring up your
+landlady and ask her. I’ve been up and down the steps of the club a
+thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how many
+steps there are I couldn’t do it. Could you?”
+
+“I certainly couldn’t,” said Bill.
+
+“But if you really wanted to know,” said Antony casually, with a sudden
+change of voice, “I could find out for you without even bothering to
+ring up the hall-porter.”
+
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps, but
+he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know how many they were.
+
+“Right,” said Antony. “I’ll find out.”
+
+He closed his eyes.
+
+“I’m walking up St. James’ Street,” he said slowly. “Now I’ve come to
+the club and I’m going past the
+smoking-room—windows—one—two—three—four. Now I’m at the steps. I turn
+in and begin going up them. One—two—three—four—five—six, then a broad
+step; six—seven—eight—nine, another broad step; nine—ten—eleven.
+Eleven—I’m inside. Good morning, Rogers. Fine day again.” With a little
+start he opened his eyes and came back again to his present
+surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile. “Eleven,” he said. “Count
+them the next time you’re there. Eleven and now I hope I shall forget
+it again.”
+
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+
+“That’s rather hot,” he said. “Expound.”
+
+“Well, I can’t explain it, whether it’s something in the actual eye, or
+something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an uncanny habit
+of recording things unconsciously. You know that game where you look at
+a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then turn away and
+try to make a list of them. It means a devil of a lot of concentration
+for the ordinary person, if he wants to get his list complete, but in
+some odd way I manage to do it without concentration at all. I mean
+that my eyes seem to do it without the brain consciously taking any
+part. I could look at the tray, for instance, and talk to you about
+golf at the same time, and still get my list right.”
+
+“I should think that’s rather a useful gift for an amateur detective.
+You ought to have gone into the profession before.”
+
+“Well, it is rather useful. It’s rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger. Let’s surprise Cayley with it, shall we?”
+
+“How?”
+
+“Well, let’s ask him—” Antony stopped and looked at Bill comically,
+“let’s ask him what he’s going to do with the key of the office.”
+
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+
+“Key of the office?” he said vaguely. “You don’t mean—Tony! What do you
+mean? Good God! do you mean that Cayley—But what about Mark?”
+
+“I don’t know where Mark is—that’s another thing I want to know—but I’m
+quite certain that he hasn’t got the key of the office with him.
+Because Cayley’s got it.”
+
+“Are you sure?”
+
+“Quite.”
+
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+
+“I say,” he said, almost pleadingly, “don’t tell me that you can see
+into people’s pockets and all that sort of thing—as well.”
+
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+
+“Then how do you know?”
+
+“You’re the perfect Watson, Bill. You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn’t to explain till the last chapter, but I
+always think that that’s so unfair. So here goes. Of course, I don’t
+really know that he’s got it, but I do know that he had it. I know that
+when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked the door and put
+the key in his pocket.”
+
+“You mean you saw him at the time, but that you’ve only just remembered
+it—reconstructed it—in the way you were explaining just now?”
+
+“No. I didn’t see him. But I did see something. I saw the key of the
+billiard-room.”
+
+“Where?
+
+“Outside the billiard-room door.”
+
+“_Out_side? But it was inside when we looked just now.”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“Who put it there?”
+
+“Obviously Cayley.”
+
+“But—”
+
+“Let’s go back to this afternoon. I don’t remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit.
+Something like that, I daresay. Well, when I was sitting out by myself
+on that seat just before you came along, I went over the whole scene in
+my mind, and I suddenly saw the billiard-room key there—outside. And I
+began to wonder if the office-key had been outside too. When Cayley
+came up, I told you my idea and you were both interested. But Cayley
+was just a shade too interested. I daresay you didn’t notice it, but he
+was.”
+
+“By Jove!”
+
+“Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn’t
+really prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other keys
+were, Mark might have locked his own private room from the inside
+sometimes. But I piled it on, and pretended that it was enormously
+important, and quite altered the case altogether, and having got Cayley
+thoroughly anxious about it, I told him that we should be well out of
+the way for the next hour or so, and that he would be alone in the
+house to do what he liked about it. And, as I expected, he couldn’t
+resist it. He altered the keys and gave himself away entirely.”
+
+“But the library key was still outside. Why didn’t he alter that?”
+
+“Because he’s a clever devil. For one thing, the Inspector had been in
+the library, and might possibly have noticed it already. And for
+another—” Antony hesitated.
+
+“What?” said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+
+“It’s only guesswork. But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset
+about the key business. He suddenly realized that he had been careless,
+and he hadn’t got time to think it all over. So he didn’t want to
+commit himself definitely to the statement that the key was either
+outside or inside. He wanted to leave it vague. It was safest that
+way.”
+
+“I see,” said Bill slowly.
+
+But his mind was elsewhere. He was wondering suddenly about Cayley.
+Cayley was just an ordinary man—like himself. Bill had had little jokes
+with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at joking. Bill
+had helped him to sausages, played tennis with him, borrowed his
+tobacco, lent him a putter.... and here was Antony saying that he
+was—what? Well, not an ordinary man, anyway. A man with a secret.
+Perhaps a—a murderer. No, not a murderer; not Cayley. That was rot,
+anyway. Why, they had played tennis together.
+
+“Now then, Watson,” said Antony suddenly. “It’s time you said
+something.”
+
+“I say, Tony, do you really mean it?”
+
+“Mean what?”
+
+“About Cayley.”
+
+“I mean what I said, Bill. No more.”
+
+“Well, what does it amount to?”
+
+“Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and that
+Cayley knows exactly how he died. That’s all. It doesn’t follow that
+Cayley killed him.”
+
+“No. No, of course it doesn’t.” Bill gave a sigh of relief. “He’s just
+shielding Mark, what?”
+
+“I wonder.”
+
+“Well, isn’t that the simplest explanation?”
+
+“It’s the simplest if you’re a friend of Cayley and want to let him
+down lightly. But then I’m not, you see.”
+
+“Why isn’t it simple, anyhow?”
+
+“Well, let’s have the explanation then, and I’ll undertake to give you
+a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember—the key is on the
+outside of the door to start with.”
+
+“Yes; well, I don’t mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and
+they quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley
+hears the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the
+door, puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the
+door, and that he can’t get in. How’s that?”
+
+“Hopeless, Watson, hopeless.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
+other way round?”
+
+“Oh!” said Bill, rather upset. “Yes.” He thought for a moment, “All
+right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen Robert on
+the ground.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, there you are.”
+
+“And what does he say to Mark? That it’s a fine afternoon; and could he
+lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what’s happened?”
+
+“Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened,” said Bill
+reluctantly.
+
+“And what does Mark say?”
+
+“Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle.”
+
+“Whereupon Cayley shields him by—by doing what, Bill? Encouraging him
+to do the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do—confess
+his guilt by running away!”
+
+“No, that’s rather hopeless, isn’t it?” Bill thought again. “Well,” he
+said reluctantly, “suppose Mark confessed that he’d murdered his
+brother?”
+
+“That’s better, Bill. Don’t be afraid of getting away from the accident
+idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley that
+he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
+committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to
+escape. Is that right?”
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+“Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as
+I said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic
+murder—a murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck?
+Secondly, if Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has
+to, anyway, now), wouldn’t it be simpler for him to say that he was in
+the office all the time, and that Robert’s death was accidental?”
+
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+
+“Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out,” he said. “Now let’s have
+yours.”
+
+Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
+different.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+
+
+“What’s the matter?” said Bill sharply.
+
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+
+“You’ve thought of something suddenly,” said Bill. “What is it?”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“My dear Watson,” he said, “you aren’t supposed to be as clever as
+this.”
+
+“Oh, you can’t take _me_ in!”
+
+“No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
+to me—”
+
+“Oh, _that!_” Bill was profoundly disappointed. “What on earth has the
+ghost got to do with it?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said Antony apologetically. “I don’t know what anything
+has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You shouldn’t have brought
+me here if you hadn’t wanted me to think about the ghost. This is where
+she appeared, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes.” Bill was distinctly short about it.
+
+“How?”
+
+“What?”
+
+“I said, ‘How?’”
+
+“How? How _do_ ghosts appear? I don’t know. They just appear.”
+
+“Over four or five hundred yards of open park?”
+
+“Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one—Lady Anne, you know—was supposed to walk.”
+
+“Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did
+Miss Norris appear suddenly—over five hundred yards of bare park?”
+
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+
+“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “We never thought of that.”
+
+“You would have seen her long before, wouldn’t you, if she had come the
+way we came?”
+
+“Of course we should.”
+
+“And that would have spoilt it rather. You would have had time to
+recognize her walk.”
+
+Bill was interested now.
+
+“That’s rather funny, you know, Tony. We none of us thought of that.”
+
+“You’re sure she didn’t come across the park when none of you were
+looking?”
+
+“Quite. Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we kept
+looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be playing with
+our backs to her.”
+
+“You and Miss Calladine were playing together?”
+
+“I say, however do you know that?”
+
+“Brilliant deductive reasoning. Well, then you suddenly saw her?”
+
+“Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn.” He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+
+“She couldn’t have been hiding in the ditch? Do you call it the moat,
+by the way?”
+
+“Mark does. We don’t among ourselves. No, she couldn’t. Betty and I
+were here before the others, and walked round a bit. We should have
+seen her.”
+
+“Then she must have been hiding in the shed. Or do you call it the
+summer-house?”
+
+“We had to go there for the bowls, of course. She couldn’t have been
+there.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“It’s dashed funny,” said Bill, after an interval for thought. “But it
+doesn’t matter, does it? It has nothing to do with Robert.”
+
+“Hasn’t it?”
+
+“I say, _has_ it?” said Bill, getting excited again.
+
+“I don’t know. We don’t know what has, or what hasn’t. But it _has_ got
+something to do with Miss Norris. And Miss Norris—” He broke off
+suddenly.
+
+“What about her?”
+
+“Well, you’re all in it in a kind of way. And if something
+unaccountable happens to one of you a day or two before something
+unaccountable happens to the whole house, one is—well, interested.” It
+was a good enough reason, but it wasn’t the reason he had been on the
+point of giving.
+
+“I see. Well?”
+
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+
+“Well then, let’s find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came.”
+
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+
+“By Jove! Do you mean there’s a secret passage?”
+
+“A secluded passage, anyway. There must be.”
+
+“I say, what fun! I love secret passages. Good Lord, and this afternoon
+I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant! What a life! Secret
+passages!”
+
+They made their way down into the ditch. If an opening was to be found
+which led to the house, it would probably be on the house side of the
+green, and on the outside of the ditch. The most obvious place at which
+to begin the search was the shed where the bowls were kept. It was a
+tidy place—as anything in Mark’s establishment would be. There were two
+boxes of croquet things, one of them with the lid open, as if the balls
+and mallets and hoops (neatly enough put away, though) had been
+recently used; a box of bowls, a small lawn-mower, a roller and so
+forth. A seat ran along the back of it, whereon the bowls-players could
+sit when it rained.
+
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+
+“This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn’t sound very
+hollow, does it?”
+
+“It needn’t begin here at all, need it?” said Bill, walking round with
+bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too tall to stand
+upright in the shed.
+
+“There’s only one reason why it should, and that is that it would save
+us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark didn’t let
+you play croquet on his bowling-green?” He pointed to the croquet
+things.
+
+“He didn’t encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather keen
+about it. There’s really nowhere else to play. Personally I hate the
+game. He wasn’t very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked calling it
+the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it.”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“I love you on Mark,” he said. “You’re priceless.”
+
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then
+suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment he stood
+listening, with his head on one side, holding up a finger to bid Bill
+listen too.
+
+“What is it?” whispered Bill.
+
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very quietly he
+went down on his knees, and listened again. Then he put his ear to the
+floor. He got up and dusted himself quickly, walked across to Bill and
+whispered in his ear:
+
+“Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up.”
+
+Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and
+stepped firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to himself.
+He took the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on the floor, said,
+“Oh, Lord!” and went on:
+
+“I say, Bill, I don’t think I want to play bowls, after all.”
+
+“Well, why did you say you did?” grumbled Bill.
+
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+
+“Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don’t want to.”
+
+“Then what _do_ you want to do?”
+
+“Talk.”
+
+“Oh, right-_o!_” said Bill eagerly.
+
+“There’s a seat on the lawn—I saw it. Let’s bring these things along in
+case we want to play, after all.”
+
+“Right-o!” said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out his
+pipe.
+
+“Got a match?” he said loudly.
+
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, “There’ll be somebody
+listening to us. You take the Cayley view,” and then went on in his
+ordinary voice, “I don’t think much of your matches, Bill,” and struck
+another. They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+
+“What a heavenly night!” said Antony.
+
+“Ripping.”
+
+“I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now.”
+
+“It’s a rum business.”
+
+“You agree with Cayley—that it was an accident?”
+
+“Yes. You see, I know Mark.”
+
+“H’m.” Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began to write
+on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked. He said that he thought
+Mark had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley knew, or
+anyhow guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a chance of
+getting away.
+
+“Mind you, I think he’s right. I think it’s what any of us would do. I
+shan’t give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or two little
+things which make me think that Mark really did shoot his brother—I
+mean other than accidentally.”
+
+“Murdered him?”
+
+“Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it’s not my
+business.”
+
+“But why do you think so? Because of the keys?”
+
+“Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of mine,
+wasn’t it? And it would have been rather a score for me if they _had_
+all been outside.”
+
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill. In
+the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily be read:
+
+“GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND AS
+IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING.”
+
+
+“I know you don’t agree with me,” Antony went on as Bill read, “but
+you’ll see that I’m right.”
+
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and Betty and
+all the other things which had made up his world lately. This was the
+real thing. This was life. “Well,” he began deliberately, “the whole
+point is that I know Mark. Now, Mark—”
+
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into the
+ditch. His intention was to crawl round it until the shed came in
+sight. The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be underneath the
+shed; probably there was a trap-door of some kind in the floor. Whoever
+it was would have heard their voices, and would probably think it worth
+while to listen to what they were saying. He might do this merely by
+opening the door a little without showing himself, in which case Antony
+would have found the entrance to the passage without any trouble to
+himself. But when Bill turned his head and talked over the back of the
+seat, it was probable that the listener would find it necessary to put
+his head outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able to
+discover who it was. Moreover, if he should venture out of his
+hiding-place altogether and peep at them over the top of the bank, the
+fact that Bill was talking over the back of the seat would mislead the
+watcher into thinking that Antony was still there, sitting on the
+grass, no doubt, behind the seat, swinging his legs over the side of
+the ditch.
+
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and then
+went even more carefully along the width of it to the second corner. He
+could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his knowledge of Mark’s
+character that this, that and the other must have happened, and he
+smiled appreciatively to himself. Bill was a great conspirator worth a
+hundred Watsons. As he approached the second corner he slowed down, and
+did the last few yards on hands and knees. Then, lying at full length,
+inch by inch his head went round the corner.
+
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of
+the ditch. From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it.
+Everything seemed to be as they left it. The bowls-box, the lawn-mower,
+the roller, the open croquet-box, the—
+
+“By Jove!” said Antony to himself, “that’s neat.”
+
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too. Bill was turning round
+now; his voice became more difficult to hear. “You see what I mean,” he
+was saying. “If Cayley—”
+
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley’s black head.
+
+Antony wanted to shout his applause. It was neat, devilish neat. For a
+moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of croquet-ball
+which had appeared so dramatically out of the box, and then reluctantly
+wriggled himself back. There was nothing to be gained by staying there,
+and a good deal to be lost, for Bill showed signs of running down. As
+quickly as he could Antony hurried round the ditch and took up his
+place at the back of the seat. Then he stood up with a yawn, stretched
+himself and said carelessly, “Well, don’t worry yourself about it,
+Bill, old man. I daresay you’re right. You know Mark, and I don’t; and
+that’s the difference. Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?”
+
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, “Oh, just
+let’s have one game, shall we?”
+
+“Right you are,” said Antony.
+
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very
+seriously. Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing
+but bowls. He played with great deliberation for ten minutes, and then
+announced that he was going to bed. Bill looked at him anxiously.
+
+“It’s all right,” laughed Antony. “You can talk if you want to. Just
+let’s put ’em away first, though.”
+
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting the
+bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box. As he
+expected, it was locked.
+
+“Now then,” said Bill, as they were walking back to the house again,
+“I’m simply bursting to know. Who was it?”
+
+“Cayley.”
+
+“Good Lord! Where?”
+
+“Inside one of the croquet-boxes.”
+
+“Don’t be an ass.”
+
+“It’s quite true, Bill.” He told the other what he had seen.
+
+“But aren’t we going to have a look at it?” asked Bill, in great
+disappointment. “I’m longing to explore. Aren’t you?”
+
+“To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow. We shall see Cayley coming
+along this way directly. Besides, I want to get in from the other end,
+if I can. I doubt very much if we can do it this end without giving
+ourselves away. Look, there’s Cayley.”
+
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them. When they were
+a little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+
+“I wondered where you were,” he said, as he got up to them. “I rather
+thought you might be along this way. What about bed?”
+
+“Bed it is,” said Antony.
+
+“We’ve been playing bowls,” added Bill, “and talking, and—and playing
+bowls. Ripping night, isn’t it?”
+
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to the
+house, to Antony. He wanted to think. There seemed to be no doubt now
+that Cayley was a villain. Bill had never been familiar with a villain
+before. It didn’t seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking
+rather a mean advantage of his friends. Lot of funny people there were
+in the world—funny people with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time
+he had met him in a tobacconist’s shop. Anybody would have thought he
+was a tobacconist’s assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought
+that Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person. And Mark. Dash it!
+one could never be sure of anybody. Now, Robert was different.
+Everybody had always said that Robert was a shady fellow.
+
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it? What had Miss
+Norris got to do with it? This was a question which Antony had already
+asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him now that he had
+found the answer. As he lay in bed that night he reassembled his ideas,
+and looked at them in the new light which the events of the evening
+threw upon the dark corners in his brain.
+
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his
+guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered. He would want this for
+their own sake as well as for his. But he had been a little too quick
+about suggesting it, and about seeing the suggestion carried out. They
+had been bustled off as soon as they could be packed. The suggestion
+that they were in his hands, to go or stay as he wished, could have
+been left safely to them. As it was, they had been given no
+alternative, and Miss Norris, who had proposed to catch an after-dinner
+train at the junction, in the obvious hope that she might have in this
+way a dramatic cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed
+detective, was encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the
+earlier train with the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the
+tragedy which had suddenly befallen the house, ought to have been
+equally indifferent to her presence or absence. But he was not; and
+Antony assumed from this that Cayley was very much alive to the
+necessity for her absence.
+
+Why?
+
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand. But the fact that
+it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for this reason
+that he had followed up so alertly Bill’s casual mention of her in
+connection with the dressing-up business. He felt that he wanted to
+know a little more about Miss Norris and the part she had played in the
+Red House circle. By sheer luck, as it seemed to him, he had stumbled
+on the answer to his question.
+
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert’s
+death. Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic
+appearance as the ghost. Possibly she had discovered it for herself;
+possibly Mark had revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing
+that she would make so unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley,
+having been let into the joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how she
+could make her appearance on the bowling-green even more mysterious and
+supernatural. One way or another, she knew about the secret passage. So
+she must be hurried away.
+
+Why? Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent
+mention of it. And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+
+Why, again? Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge
+of its existence, might provide a clue.
+
+“I wonder if Mark’s hiding there,” thought Antony; and he went to
+sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+
+
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and
+found that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters
+and nodded.
+
+“Any word of Mr. Ablett—of Mark?” said Antony, as he poured out his
+coffee.
+
+“No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon.”
+
+“Oh! Is there a lake?”
+
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley’s face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+
+“Well, it’s really a pond,” he said, “but it was called ‘the lake.’”
+
+“By Mark,” thought Antony. Aloud he said, “What do they expect to
+find?”
+
+“They think that Mark—” He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn’t get away? And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?”
+
+“Yes; I suppose so,” said Cayley slowly.
+
+“I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for
+his money. After all, he had a revolver. If he was determined not to be
+taken alive, he could always have prevented that. Couldn’t he have
+caught a train to London before the police knew anything about it?”
+
+“He might just have managed it. There _was_ a train. They would have
+noticed him at Woodham, of course, but he might have managed it at
+Stanton. He’s not so well-known there, naturally. The inspector has
+been inquiring. Nobody seems to have seen him.”
+
+“There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on. There was
+never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who swear to
+have seen him at a dozen different places at the same time.”
+
+Cayley smiled.
+
+“Yes. That’s true. Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first.” He added
+dryly, “From what I’ve read of detective stories, inspectors always do
+want to drag the pond first.”
+
+“Is it deep?”
+
+“Quite deep enough,” said Cayley as he got up. On his way to the door
+he stopped, and looked at Antony. “I’m so sorry that we’re keeping you
+here like this, but it will only be until to-morrow. The inquest is
+to-morrow afternoon. Do amuse yourself how you like till then. Beverley
+will look after you.”
+
+“Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right.”
+
+Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors
+liked dragging ponds, but the question was, did Cayleys like having
+them dragged? Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He
+certainly did not seem to be anxious, but he could hide his feelings
+very easily beneath that heavy, solid face, and it was not often that
+the real Cayley peeped out. Just a little too eager once or twice,
+perhaps, but there was nothing to be learnt from it this morning.
+Perhaps he knew that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all,
+inspectors were always dragging ponds.
+
+Bill came in noisily.
+
+Bill’s face was an open book. Excitement was written all over it.
+
+“Well,” he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal,
+“what are we going to do this morning?”
+
+“Not talk so loudly, for one thing,” said Antony. Bill looked about him
+apprehensively. Was Cayley under the table, for example? After last
+night one never knew.
+
+“Is—er——” He raised his eyebrows.
+
+“No. But one doesn’t want to shout. One should modulate the voice, my
+dear William, while breathing gently from the hips. Thus one avoids
+those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret. In other words,
+pass the toast.”
+
+“You seem bright this morning.”
+
+“I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, ‘Were it not that I
+have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee.
+Fain would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little
+hills. But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch
+tarries outside with his shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will
+attend thee anon. Farewell, a long farewell to all—thy grape-nuts.’ He
+then left up-centre. Enter W. Beverley, R.”
+
+“Are you often like this at breakfast?”
+
+“Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. Exit W. Beverley, L.”
+
+“It’s a touch of the sun, I suppose,” said Bill, shaking his head
+sadly.
+
+“It’s the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do
+you know anything about Orion’s Belt, for instance? And why isn’t there
+a star called Beverley’s Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating.
+Re-enter W. Beverley through trap-door.”
+
+“Talking about trap-doors—”
+
+“Don’t,” said Antony, getting up. “Some talk of Alexander and some of
+Hercules, but nobody talks about—what’s the Latin for
+trap-door?—_Mensa_—a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr.
+Beverley,”—and he slapped him heartily on the back as he went past
+him—“I shall see you later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so
+far you have not made me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing
+when you have finished your breakfast. But don’t hurry. Let the upper
+mandibles have time to do the work.” With those words Mr. Gillingham
+then left the spacious apartment.
+
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not
+know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind
+him; not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within
+sight of Antony, who was not going to take any risks. So he went on
+with his breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and
+wondering if he had dreamed only of the amazing things which had
+happened the day before.
+
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by a
+housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he
+remembered.
+
+“Is it Elsie?” he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+
+“Yes, sir,” she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it was
+that she had achieved such notoriety.
+
+“It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn’t it? I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?”
+
+“Yes, thank you, sir.”
+
+“‘It’s _my_ turn now. You wait,’” murmured Antony to himself.
+
+“Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come.”
+
+“I wonder.”
+
+“Well, that’s what I heard, sir. Truly.”
+
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+“Yes. I wonder. I wonder why.”
+
+“Why what, sir?”
+
+“Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?”
+
+Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about
+it.
+
+“Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs.”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she
+stopped him.
+
+“I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?”
+
+“Oh, yes. To-morrow, I think.”
+
+“Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?”
+
+“Of course. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
+
+“I did hear it, sir. Truly.”
+
+“Why, of course you did. Who says you didn’t?”
+
+“Some of the others, sir—Mrs. Stevens and all.”
+
+“Oh, that’s just because they’re jealous,” said Antony with a smile.
+
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once
+the immense importance of her evidence. To the Inspector no doubt it
+had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have adopted
+something of a threatening attitude towards his brother. To Antony it
+had much more significance. It was the only trustworthy evidence that
+Mark had been in the office at all that afternoon.
+
+For who saw Mark go into the office? Only Cayley. And if Cayley had
+been hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be hiding the
+truth about Mark’s entry into the office? Obviously all Cayley’s
+evidence went for nothing. Some of it no doubt was true; but he was
+giving it, both truth and falsehood, with a purpose. What the purpose
+was Antony did not know as yet—to shield Mark, to shield himself—even
+to betray Mark—it might be any of these. But since his evidence was
+given for his own ends, it was impossible that it could be treated as
+the evidence of an impartial and trustworthy onlooker. Such, for
+instance, as Elsie appeared to be.
+
+Elsie’s evidence, however, seemed to settle the point. Mark had gone
+into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both talking;
+and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert.... and the
+Inspector was going to drag the pond.
+
+But certainly Elsie’s evidence did not prove anything more than the
+mere presence of Mark in the room. “It’s my turn now; you wait.” That
+was not an immediate threat;—it was a threat for the future. If Mark
+had shot his brother immediately afterwards it must have been an
+accident, the result of a struggle, say, provoked by that “nasty-like”
+tone of voice. Nobody would say “You wait” to a man who was just going
+to be shot. “You wait” meant “You wait, and see what’s going to happen
+to you later on.” The owner of the Red House had had enough of his
+brother’s sponging, his brother’s blackmail; now it was Mark’s turn to
+get a bit of his own back. Let Robert just wait a bit, and he would
+see. The conversation which Elsie had overheard might have meant
+something like this. It couldn’t have meant murder. Anyway not murder
+of Robert by Mark.
+
+“It’s a funny business,” thought Antony. “The one obvious solution is
+so easy and yet so wrong. And I’ve got a hundred things in my head, and
+I can’t fit them together. And this afternoon will make a hundred and
+one. I mustn’t forget this afternoon.”
+
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll. Bill was only too
+ready. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.
+
+“I don’t mind much. Show me the park.”
+
+“Righto.”
+
+They walked out together.
+
+“Watson, old man,” said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, “you really mustn’t talk so loudly indoors. There was a
+gentleman outside, just behind you, all the time.”
+
+“Oh, I say,” said Bill, going pink. “I’m awfully sorry. So that’s why
+you were talking such rot.”
+
+“Partly, yes. And partly because I do feel rather bright this morning.
+We’re going to have a busy day.”
+
+“Are we really? What are we going to do?”
+
+“They’re going to drag the pond—beg its pardon, the lake. Where is the
+lake?”
+
+“We’re on the way to it now, if you’d like to see it.”
+
+“We may as well look at it. Do you haunt the lake much in the ordinary
+way?”
+
+“Oh, no, rather not. There’s nothing to do there.”
+
+“You can’t bathe?”
+
+“Well, I shouldn’t care to. Too dirty.”
+
+“I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn’t it? The way to the
+village?”
+
+“Yes. We go off a bit to the right directly. What are they dragging it
+for?”
+
+“Mark.”
+
+“Oh, rot,” said Bill uneasily. He was silent for a little, and then,
+forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance of the
+exciting times they were having, said eagerly, “I say, when are we
+going to look for that passage?”
+
+“We can’t do very much while Cayley’s in the house.”
+
+“What about this afternoon when they’re dragging the pond? He’s sure to
+be there.”
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“There’s something I _must_ do this afternoon,” he said. “Of course we
+might have time for both.”
+
+“Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?”
+
+“Well, I think he ought to be.”
+
+“I say, is it anything rather exciting?”
+
+“I don’t know. It might be rather interesting. I daresay I could do it
+at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o’clock, somehow.
+I’ve been specially keeping it back for then.”
+
+“I say, what fun! You _do_ want me, don’t you?”
+
+“Of course I do. Only, Bill don’t talk about things _in_side the house,
+unless I begin. There’s a good Watson.”
+
+“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”
+
+They had come to the pond—Mark’s lake—and they walked silently round
+it. When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the grass, and
+relit his pipe. Bill followed his example.
+
+“Well, Mark isn’t there,” said Antony.
+
+“No,” said Bill. “At least, I don’t quite see why you know he isn’t.”
+
+“It isn’t ‘knowing,’ it’s ‘guessing,’” said Antony rapidly. “It’s much
+easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark had wanted
+to shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not letting the body
+be found, he’d have put big stones in his pockets, and the only big
+stones are near the water’s edge, and they would have left marks, and
+they haven’t, and therefore he didn’t, and—oh, bother the pond; that
+can wait till this afternoon. Bill, where does the secret passage
+begin?”
+
+“Well, that’s what we’ve got to find out, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes. You see, my idea is this.”
+
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage
+was concerned in some way with the secret of Robert’s death, and went
+on:
+
+“My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago—the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet. The passage came out into
+the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley’s idea to put a
+croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely. You
+know, when once you’ve discovered a secret yourself, it always seems as
+if it must be so obvious to everybody else. I can imagine that Mark
+loved having this little secret all to himself—and to Cayley, of
+course, but Cayley wouldn’t count—and they must have had great fun
+fixing it up, and making it more difficult for other people to find
+out. Well then, when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it
+away. Probably he told her that she could never get down to the
+bowling-green without being discovered, and then perhaps showed that he
+knew there was one way in which she could do it, and she wormed the
+secret out of him somehow.”
+
+“But this was two or three days before Robert turned up.”
+
+“Exactly. I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about
+the passage in the first place. It was just a little private bit of
+romance and adventure for Mark, three days ago. He didn’t even know
+that Robert was coming. But somehow the passage has been used since, in
+connection with Robert. Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps he’s
+hiding there now. And if so, then the only person who could give him
+away was Miss Norris. And she of course would only do it innocently—not
+knowing that the passage had anything to do with it.”
+
+“So it was safer to have her out of the way?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about _this_ end of
+it? We can always get in at the bowling-green end.”
+
+“I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly. It will mean
+breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we’ve done it. You
+see, Bill, if we don’t find anything out for ourselves in the next day
+or two, we’ve got to tell the police what we _have_ found out, and then
+they can explore the passage for themselves. But I don’t want to do
+that yet.”
+
+“Rather not.”
+
+“So we’ve got to carry on secretly for a bit. It’s the only way.” He
+smiled and added, “And it’s much more fun.”
+
+“Rather!” Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+“Very well. Where does the secret passage begin?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+
+
+“There’s one thing, which we have got to realize at once,” said Antony,
+“and that is that if we don’t find it easily, we shan’t find it at
+all.”
+
+“You mean that we shan’t have time?”
+
+“Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a
+lazy person like me.”
+
+“But it makes it much harder, if we can’t really look properly.”
+
+“Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley’s bedroom. Well, now we know that it
+doesn’t.”
+
+“We don’t know anything of the sort,” protested Bill.
+
+“We know for the purposes of our search. Obviously we can’t go tailing
+into Cayley’s bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and obviously,
+therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must assume that
+it doesn’t begin there.”
+
+“Oh, I see.” Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully. “Anyhow, it
+wouldn’t begin on an upstairs floor, would it?”
+
+“Probably not. Well, we’re getting on.”
+
+“You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house,” said
+Bill, after more thought. “We can’t go there.”
+
+“Right. And the cellars, if there are any.”
+
+“Well, that doesn’t leave us much.”
+
+“No. Of course it’s only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it, but
+what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of the few
+places in which we can look safely.”
+
+“All it amounts to,” said Bill, “is the living-rooms
+downstairs—dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office
+rooms.”
+
+“Yes, that’s all.”
+
+“Well, the office is the most likely, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes. Except for one thing.”
+
+“What’s that?”
+
+“Well, it’s on the wrong side of the house. One would expect the
+passage to start from the nearest place to which it is going. Why make
+it longer by going under the house first?”
+
+“Yes, that’s true. Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?”
+
+“Yes. And the library for choice. I mean for _our_ choice. There are
+always servants going into dining-rooms. We shouldn’t have much of a
+chance of exploring properly in there. Besides, there’s another thing
+to remember. Mark has kept this a secret for a year. Could he have kept
+it a secret in the dining-room? Could Miss Norris have got into the
+dining-room and used the secret door just after dinner without being
+seen? It would have been much too risky.”
+
+Bill got up eagerly.
+
+“Come along,” he said, “let’s try the library. If Cayley comes in, we
+can always pretend we’re choosing a book.”
+
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house with
+him.
+
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages. Antony could
+never resist another person’s bookshelves. As soon as he went into the
+room, he found himself wandering round it to see what books the owner
+read, or (more likely) did not read, but kept for the air which they
+lent to the house. Mark had prided himself on his library. It was a
+mixed collection of books. Books which he had inherited both from his
+father and from his patron; books which he had bought because he was
+interested in them or, if not in them, in the authors to whom he wished
+to lend his patronage; books which he had ordered in beautifully bound
+editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves, lending a
+noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture should ever
+be without them; old editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap
+books—a library in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure
+of finding something to suit him.
+
+“And which is _your_ particular fancy, Bill?” said Antony, looking from
+one shelf to another. “Or are you always playing billiards?”
+
+“I have a look at ‘Badminton’ sometimes,” said Bill. “It’s over in that
+corner there.” He waved a hand.
+
+“Over here?” said Antony, going to it.
+
+“Yes.” He corrected himself suddenly. “Oh, no, it’s not. It’s over
+there on the right now. Mark had a grand re-arrangement of his library
+about a year ago. It took him more than a week, he told us. He’s got
+such a frightful lot, hasn’t he?”
+
+“Now that’s very interesting,” said Antony, and he sat down and filled
+his pipe again.
+
+There was indeed a “frightful lot” of books. The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only where
+the door and the two windows insisted on living their own life, even
+though an illiterate one. To Bill it seemed the most hopeless room of
+any in which to look for a secret opening.
+
+“We shall have to take every blessed book down,” he said, “before we
+can be certain that we haven’t missed it.”
+
+“Anyway,” said Antony, “if we take them down one at a time, nobody can
+suspect us of sinister designs. After all, what does one go into a
+library for, except to take books down?”
+
+“But there’s such a frightful lot.”
+
+Antony’s pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+
+“Well, let’s have a look,” he said, “and see if they are so very
+frightful. Hallo, here’s your ‘Badminton.’ You often read that, you
+say?”
+
+“If I read anything.”
+
+“Yes.” He looked down and up the shelf. “Sport and Travel chiefly. I
+like books of travel, don’t you?”
+
+“They’re pretty dull as a rule.”
+
+“Well, anyhow, some people like them very much,” said Antony,
+reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. “The Drama. The
+Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well
+remark, many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson—I like
+reading plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do
+are usually very keen. Let us pass on.”
+
+“I say, we haven’t too much time,” said Bill restlessly.
+
+“We haven’t. That’s why we aren’t wasting any. Poetry. Who reads poetry
+nowadays? Bill, when did you last read ‘Paradise Lost’?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read ‘The Excursion’
+aloud to you?”
+
+“As a matter of fact, Betty—Miss Calladine—happens to be jolly keen
+on—what’s the beggar’s name?”
+
+“Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on.”
+
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+
+“Biography. Oh, lots of it. I love biographies. Are you a member of the
+Johnson Club? I bet Mark is. ‘Memories of Many Courts’—I’m sure Mrs.
+Calladine reads that. Anyway, biographies are just as interesting as
+most novels, so why linger? We pass on.” He went to the next shelf, and
+then gave a sudden whistle. “Hallo, hallo!”
+
+“What’s the matter?” said Bill rather peevishly.
+
+“Stand back there. Keep the crowd back, Bill. We are getting amongst
+it. Sermons, as I live. Sermons. Was Mark’s father a clergyman, or does
+Mark take to them naturally?”
+
+“His father was a parson, I believe. Oh, yes, I know he was.”
+
+“Ah, then these are Father’s books. ‘Half-Hours with the Infinite’—I
+must order that from the library when I get back. ‘The Lost Sheep,’
+‘Jones on the Trinity,’ ‘The Epistles of St. Paul Explained.’ Oh, Bill,
+we’re amongst it. ‘The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore
+Ussher’—hal-_lo_!”
+
+“What _is_ the matter?”
+
+“William, I am inspired. Stand by.” He took down the Reverend Theodore
+Ussher’s classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for a moment,
+and then gave it to Bill.
+
+“Here, hold Ussher for a bit.”
+
+Bill took the book obediently.
+
+“No, give it me back. Just go out into the hall, and see if you can
+hear Cayley anywhere. Say ‘Hallo’ loudly, if you do.”
+
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+
+“It’s all right.”
+
+“Good.” He took the book out of its shelf again. “Now then, you can
+hold Ussher. Hold him in the left hand—so. With the right or dexter
+hand, grasp this shelf firmly—so. Now, when I say ‘Pull,’ pull
+gradually. Got that?”
+
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+
+“Good.” Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout Ussher,
+and fingered the back of the shelf. “Pull,” he said.
+
+Bill pulled.
+
+“Now just go on pulling like that. I shall get it directly. Not hard,
+you know, but just keeping up the strain.”
+
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom, swung
+gently open towards them.
+
+“Good Lord!” said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill’s fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa and
+deposited him in it. Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+
+“Child’s play, Watson,” he said; “child’s play.”
+
+“How on earth—”
+
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+
+“You don’t really want it explained,” he said, smacking him on the
+knee; “you’re just being Watsonish. It’s very nice of you, of course,
+and I appreciate it.”
+
+“No, but really, Tony.”
+
+“Oh, my dear Bill!” He smoked silently for a little, and then went on,
+“It’s what I was saying just now—a secret is a secret until you have
+discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder why
+everybody else isn’t discovering it, and how it could ever have been a
+secret at all. This passage has been here for years, with an opening at
+one end into the library, and at the other end into the shed. Then Mark
+discovered it, and immediately he felt that everybody else must
+discover it. So he made the shed end more difficult by putting the
+croquet-box there, and this end more difficult by—” he stopped and
+looked at the other “by what, Bill?”
+
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+
+“What?”
+
+“Obviously by re-arranging his books. He happened to take out ‘The Life
+of Nelson’ or ‘Three Men in a Boat,’ or whatever it was, and by the
+merest chance discovered the secret. Naturally he felt that everybody
+else would be taking down ‘The Life of Nelson’ or ‘Three Men in a
+Boat.’ Naturally he felt that the secret would be safer if nobody ever
+interfered with that shelf at all. When you said that the books had
+been re-arranged a year ago—just about the time the croquet-box came
+into existence—of course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the
+dullest books I could find, the books nobody ever read. Obviously the
+collection of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf
+we wanted.”
+
+“Yes, I see. But why were you so certain of the particular place?”
+
+“Well, he had to mark the particular place by _some_ book. I thought
+that the joke of putting ‘The Narrow Way’ just over the entrance to the
+passage might appeal to him. Apparently it did.”
+
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times. “Yes, that’s very
+neat,” he said. “You’re a clever devil, Tony.”
+
+Tony laughed.
+
+“You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful.”
+
+“Well, come on, then,” said Bill, and he got up, and held out a hand.
+
+“Come on where?”
+
+“To explore the passage, of course.”
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“Why ever not?”
+
+“Well, what do you expect to find there?”
+
+“I don’t know. But you seemed to think that we might find something
+that would help.”
+
+“Suppose we find Mark?” said Antony quietly.
+
+“I say, do you really think he’s there?”
+
+“Suppose he is?”
+
+“Well, then, there we are.”
+
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his pipe,
+and turned back to Bill. He looked at him gravely without speaking.
+
+“What are you going to say to him?” he said at last.
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?”
+
+“I—I—well, of course, I—” began Bill, stammering, and then ended
+lamely, “Well, I don’t know.”
+
+“Exactly. We’ve got to make up our minds, haven’t we?”
+
+Bill didn’t answer. Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and then
+at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were trying to
+learn what lay behind it. Which side was he on, if it came to choosing
+sides—Mark’s or the Law’s?
+
+“You know, you can’t just say, ‘Oh—er—hallo!’ to him,” said Antony,
+breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+
+“Nor,” went on Antony, “can you say, ‘This is my friend Mr. Gillingham,
+who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of bowls.’”
+
+“Yes, it’s dashed difficult. I don’t know what to say. I’ve been rather
+forgetting about Mark.” He wandered over to the window and looked out
+on to the lawns. There was a gardener clipping the grass edges. No
+reason why the lawn should be untidy just because the master of the
+house had disappeared. It was going to be a hot day again. Dash it, of
+course he had forgotten Mark. How could he think of him as an escaped
+murderer, a fugitive from justice, when everything was going on just as
+it did yesterday, and the sun was shining just as it did when they all
+drove off to their golf, only twenty-four hours ago? How could he help
+feeling that this was not real tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of
+detective game that he and Antony were playing?
+
+He turned back to his friend.
+
+“All the same,” he said, “you wanted to find the passage, and now
+you’ve found it. Aren’t you going into it at all?”
+
+Antony took his arm.
+
+“Let’s go outside again,” he said. “We can’t go into it now, anyhow.
+It’s too risky, with Cayley about. Bill, I feel like you—just a little
+bit frightened. But what I’m frightened of I don’t quite know. Anyway,
+you want to go on with it, don’t you?”
+
+“Yes,” said Bill firmly. “We must.”
+
+“Then we’ll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the chance.
+And if we don’t get the chance, then we’ll try it to-night.”
+
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+
+“Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?” asked Bill.
+
+“It’s possible,” said Antony. “Either Mark or—” He pulled himself up
+quickly. “No,” he murmured to himself, “I won’t let myself think
+that—not yet, anyway. It’s too horrible.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+A Shadow on the Wall
+
+
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been
+busy. He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in
+the brown flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he had made
+inquiries at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to this
+description had been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the evidence
+which had been volunteered to him had been inconclusive, it made it
+possible that Mark had indeed caught that train, and had arrived in
+London before the police at the other end had been ready to receive
+him. But the fact that it was market-day at Stanton, and that the
+little town would be more full than usual of visitors, made it less
+likely that either the departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of
+Robert by the 2.10 earlier in the afternoon, would have been
+particularly noticed. As Antony had said to Cayley, there would always
+be somebody ready to hand the police a circumstantial story of the
+movements of any man in whom the police were interested.
+
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain. To find out
+more about him in time for the inquest would be difficult. All that was
+known about him in the village where he and Mark had lived as boys bore
+out the evidence of Cayley. He was an unsatisfactory son, and he had
+been hurried off to Australia; nor had he been seen since in the
+village. Whether there were any more substantial grounds of quarrel
+between the two brothers than that the younger one was at home and
+well-to-do, while the elder was poor and an exile, was not known, nor,
+as far as the inspector could see, was it likely to be known until Mark
+was captured.
+
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately. Dragging the
+pond might not help towards this, but it would certainly give the
+impression in court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling the
+case with zeal. And if only the revolver with which the deed was done
+was brought to the surface, his trouble would be well repaid.
+“Inspector Birch produces the weapon” would make an excellent headline
+in the local paper.
+
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked to
+the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the mood for
+a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend, Mr.
+Beverley. He gave them a cheerful “Good afternoon,” and added with a
+smile, “Coming to help us?”
+
+“You don’t really want us,” said Antony, smiling back at him.
+
+“You can come if you like.”
+
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+
+“You can tell me afterwards what you find,” he said. “By the way,” he
+added, “I hope the landlord at ‘The George’ gave me a good character?”
+
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+
+“Now how on earth do you know anything about that?”
+
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+
+“Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the Force.”
+
+The inspector laughed.
+
+“Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham. You got a clean bill.
+But I had to make certain about you.”
+
+“Of course you did. Well, I wish you luck. But I don’t think you’ll
+find much at the pond. It’s rather out of the way, isn’t it, for
+anybody running away?”
+
+“That’s just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to the
+pond. However, we shan’t do any harm by looking. It’s the unexpected
+that’s the most likely in this sort of case.”
+
+“You’re quite right, Inspector. Well, we mustn’t keep you. Good
+afternoon,” and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+
+“Good afternoon, sir.”
+
+“Good afternoon,” said Bill.
+
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent for
+so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him rather
+crossly what was the matter.
+
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+“I don’t know; really I don’t know. It’s too devilish what I keep
+thinking. He can’t be as cold-blooded as that.”
+
+“Who?”
+
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on which
+they had been sitting. He sat there with his head in his hands.
+
+“Oh, I hope they find something,” he murmured. “Oh, I hope they do.”
+
+“In the pond?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“But what?”
+
+“Anything, Bill; anything.”
+
+Bill was annoyed. “I say, Tony, this won’t do. You really mustn’t be so
+damn mysterious. What’s happened to you suddenly?”
+
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+
+“Didn’t you hear what he said?”
+
+“What, particularly?”
+
+“That it was Cayley’s idea to drag the pond.”
+
+“Oh! Oh, I say!” Bill was rather excited again. “You mean that he’s
+hidden something there? Some false clue which he wants the police to
+find?”
+
+“I hope so,” said Antony earnestly, “but I’m afraid—” He stopped short.
+
+“Afraid of what?”
+
+“Afraid that he hasn’t hidden anything there. Afraid that—”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“What’s the safest place in which to hide anything very important?”
+
+“Somewhere where nobody will look.”
+
+“There’s a better place than that.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Somewhere where everybody has already looked.”
+
+“By Jove! You mean that as soon as the pond _has_ been dragged, Cayley
+will hide something there?”
+
+“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
+
+“But why afraid?”
+
+“Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn’t easily be hidden anywhere else.”
+
+“What?” asked Bill eagerly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“No, I’m not going to talk about it yet. We can wait and see what the
+Inspector finds. He may find something—I don’t know what—something that
+Cayley has put there for him to find. But if he doesn’t, then it will
+be because Cayley is going to hide something there to-night.”
+
+“What?” asked Bill again.
+
+“You will see what, Bill,” said Antony; “because we shall be there.”
+
+“Are we going to watch him?”
+
+“Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing.”
+
+“That’s good,” said Bill.
+
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as to
+which side he was taking. Previous to the tragedy of yesterday he had
+got on well enough with both of the cousins, without being in the least
+intimate with either. Indeed, of the two he preferred, perhaps, the
+silent, solid Cayley to the more volatile Mark. Cayley’s qualities, as
+they appeared to Bill, may have been chiefly negative; but even if this
+merit lay in the fact that he never exposed whatever weaknesses he may
+have had, this is an excellent quality in a fellow-guest (or, if you
+like, fellow-host) in a house where one is continually visiting. Mark’s
+weaknesses, on the other hand, were very plain to the eye, and Bill had
+seen a good deal of them.
+
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in
+regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of the
+Law against Cayley. Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but Cayley
+had committed an unforgivable offence. Cayley had listened secretly to
+a private conversation between himself and Tony. Let Cayley hang, if
+the Law demanded it.
+
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+
+“Come along,” he said. “It’s time for that job I spoke about.”
+
+“The passage?” said Bill eagerly.
+
+“No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon.”
+
+“Oh, of course. What is it?”
+
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+
+It was three o’clock, and at three o’clock yesterday Antony and Cayley
+had found the body. At a few minutes after three, he had been looking
+out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been surprised
+suddenly to find the door open and Cayley behind him. He had vaguely
+wondered at the time why he had expected the door to be shut, but he
+had had no time then to worry the thing out, and he had promised
+himself to look into it at his leisure afterwards. Possibly it meant
+nothing; possibly, if it meant anything, he could have found out its
+meaning by a visit to the office that morning. But he had felt that he
+would be more likely to recapture the impressions of yesterday if he
+chose as far as possible the same conditions for his experiment. So he
+had decided that three o’clock that afternoon should find him once more
+in the office.
+
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a
+shock that there was now no body of Robert lying there between the two
+doors. But there was a dark stain which showed where the dead man’s
+head had been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt
+twenty-four hours before.
+
+“I want to go through it again,” he said. “You must be Cayley. Cayley
+said he would get some water. I remember thinking that water wasn’t
+much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too glad to do
+anything rather than nothing. He came back with a wet sponge and a
+handkerchief. I suppose he got the handkerchief from the chest of
+drawers. Wait a bit.”
+
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled
+open a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back to
+the office.
+
+“The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top right-hand
+drawer. Now then, Bill, just pretend you’re Cayley. You’ve just said
+something about water, and you get up.”
+
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling
+beside his friend, got up and walked out. Antony, as he had done on the
+previous day, looked up after him as he went. Bill turned into the room
+on the right, opened the drawer and got the handkerchief, damped the
+sponge and came back.
+
+“Well?” he said wonderingly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“It’s all different,” he said. “For one thing, you made a devil of a
+noise and Cayley didn’t.”
+
+“Perhaps you weren’t listening when Cayley went in?”
+
+“I wasn’t. But I should have heard him if I could have heard him, and I
+should have remembered afterwards.”
+
+“Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him.”
+
+“Wait!”
+
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought. It wasn’t anything which
+he had heard, but something which he had seen. He tried desperately
+hard to see it again.... He saw Cayley getting up, opening the door
+from the office, leaving it open and walking into the passage, turning
+to the door on the right, opening it, going in, and then—What did his
+eyes see after that? If they would only tell him again!
+
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. “Bill, I’ve got it!” he cried.
+
+“What?”
+
+“The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
+ass, and ten times ass!”
+
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed
+to the wall of the passage.
+
+“Look at the sunlight on it,” he said. “That’s because you’ve left the
+door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through the windows.
+Now, I’m going to shut the door. Look! D’you see how the shadow moves
+across? That’s what I saw—the shadow moving across as the door shut
+behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind you—quite naturally.
+Quick!”
+
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+
+“I thought so!” he cried. “I knew it couldn’t have been that.”
+
+“What happened?” said Bill, coming back.
+
+“Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved
+back again—all in one movement.”
+
+“And what happened yesterday?”
+
+“The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
+and there was no noise of the door being shut.”
+
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+“By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
+afterthought—and very quietly—so that you couldn’t hear?”
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+“Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into the
+room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with
+springs on them close?”
+
+“The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?”
+
+“Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very slowly
+they swing to— well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort
+of door. By Jove!” He got up, and dusted his knees. “Now, Bill, just to
+make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you
+know; and very quietly, so that I don’t hear the click of it.”
+
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what
+had happened.
+
+“That was it,” said Antony, with absolute conviction. “That was just
+what I saw yesterday.” He came out of the office, and joined Bill in
+the little room.
+
+“And now,” he said, “let’s try and find out what it was that Mr. Cayley
+was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that his friend
+Mr. Gillingham didn’t overhear him.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+The Open Window
+
+
+Anthony’s first thought was that Cayley had hidden something;
+something, perhaps, which he had found by the body, and—but that was
+absurd. In the time at his disposal, he could have done no more than
+put it away in a drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery
+by Antony than if he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would
+have removed it by this time, and hidden it in some more secret place.
+Besides, why in this case bother about shutting the door?
+
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+
+“Is it any good going through these, do you think?” he asked.
+
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+
+“Why did he keep clothes here at all?” he asked. “Did he ever change
+down here?”
+
+“My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
+kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
+go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
+never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
+he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he’d had
+half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
+gentleman’s town and country outfit.”
+
+“I see.”
+
+“Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the next
+room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
+comfortable coat.”
+
+“I see. Yes.” He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
+lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
+glanced in. “He seems to have come in here for a collar lately.”
+
+Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+
+“Yes. I daresay he would,” he agreed. “If he suddenly found that the
+one he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or
+something. He was very finicking.”
+
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+
+“It must have been uncomfortable this time,” he said, after examining
+it carefully. “It couldn’t very well be cleaner.” He dropped it back
+again. “Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?”
+
+“Oh, yes, rather.”
+
+“Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?”
+
+“What did he want to shut the door for?” said Bill. “That’s what I
+don’t understand. You couldn’t have seen him, anyhow.”
+
+“No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
+something which he didn’t want me to hear.”
+
+“By Jove, that’s it!” said Bill eagerly.
+
+“Yes; but what?”
+
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+
+“Well, let’s have some air, anyway,” he said at last, exhausted by the
+effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
+struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, “Do you think I
+had better go up to the pond to make sure that they’re still at it?
+Because—”
+
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony’s face.
+
+“Oh, idiot, idiot!” Antony cried. “Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
+Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!”
+
+“What on earth—”
+
+“The window, the window!” cried Antony, pointing to it.
+
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it
+said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+
+“He was opening the window!” cried Antony.
+
+“Who?”
+
+“Cayley, of course.” Very gravely and slowly he expounded. “He came in
+here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I shouldn’t
+hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here and
+found the window open. I said, ‘This window is open. My amazing powers
+of analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this
+window.’ ‘Oh,’ said Cayley, raising his eyebrows. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘I
+suppose you must be right.’ Said I proudly, ‘I am. For the window is
+open,’ I said. Oh, you incomparable ass!”
+
+He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+
+He tried to put himself in Cayley’s place—Cayley, when Antony had first
+discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, “Let me in!” Whatever
+had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert, Cayley knew
+all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not escaped by
+the window. But it was necessary to Cayley’s plans—to Mark’s plans if
+they were acting in concert—that he should be thought so to have
+escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his
+pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered—with what
+a shock!—that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left open!
+
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. _Was_ the
+office window open? Surely it was open! _Was_ it?.... Would he have
+time now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip
+out again? No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky.
+Fatal, if he were discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get
+the windows safely open while they were crowding round the body. They
+wouldn’t notice. He could do it somehow.
+
+And then Antony’s sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And
+Antony suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was
+just what he wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.
+
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest
+way round and yet _run_. It was Cayley’s only chance of getting a start
+on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open
+somehow before Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he
+must get there first, just to make sure. Perhaps they _were_ open. He
+must get away from Antony and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly
+shut, then he must have a moment to himself, a moment in which to think
+of some other plan, and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be
+threatening.
+
+So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the
+window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet.
+There was the dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony
+mustn’t hear.
+
+And Antony didn’t hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
+Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had
+carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular
+window in preference to the office window. And Cayley had agreed that
+probably that was the reason. How he must have chuckled to himself! But
+he was still a little afraid. Afraid that Antony would examine the
+shrubbery. Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having
+broken through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the
+necessary traces since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had
+he even gone as far as footmarks—in Mark’s shoes? But the ground was
+very hard. Perhaps footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he
+thought of the big Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little
+Mark’s shoes. Cayley must have been glad that footmarks were not
+necessary.
+
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or
+two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn’t hear. And Antony had not
+heard.... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
+listening open-mouthed to his friend’s theory of yesterday’s
+happenings. It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them
+any further. It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+
+“What’s that?” said Antony.
+
+“Mark. Where’s Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then
+where is he now?”
+
+“I don’t say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must have
+gone. Elsie heard him.” He stopped and repeated slowly, “She heard
+him—at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out again
+by the door.”
+
+“Well, but where does that lead you?”
+
+“Where it led Mark. The passage.”
+
+“Do you mean that he’s been hiding there all the time?” Antony was
+silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort he
+came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+
+“I don’t know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I don’t
+know if it is the right one—I don’t know, Bill; I’m rather frightened.
+Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be going to happen.
+However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any fault with
+it.”
+
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay
+back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him,
+and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted
+over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they happened.
+
+“We’ll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an
+accident; probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a
+panic, naturally. But he doesn’t lock the door and run away. For one
+thing, the key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not
+quite such a fool as that. But he is in a horrible position. He is
+known to be on bad terms with his brother; he has just uttered some
+foolish threat to him, which may possibly have been overheard. What is
+he to do? He does the natural thing, the thing which Mark would always
+do in such circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable,
+inevitable Cayley.
+
+“Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
+tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see
+what is the matter. He explains rapidly. ‘What’s to be done, Cay?
+What’s to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
+threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn’t. Think of something,
+quick!’
+
+“Cayley has thought of something. ‘Leave it to me,’ he says. ‘You clear
+out altogether. _I_ shot him, if you like. I’ll do all the explaining.
+Get away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage, quick. I’ll
+come to you there as soon as I can.’
+
+“Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark’s courage comes back. Cayley will
+explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an
+accident. He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley—Cayley
+has no quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage
+and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other
+end, and saunter slowly back to the house. He will be told the news by
+one of the servants. Robert accidentally shot? Good Heavens!
+
+“So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
+the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door
+and shouts, ‘Let me in!’”
+
+Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+
+“Yes, Tony, but that doesn’t make sense. What’s the point of Cayley
+behaving like that?”
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+
+“And what has happened to Mark since?”
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+“Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better,” said Bill.
+
+“You’re ready to go?”
+
+“Quite,” said Bill, surprised.
+
+“You’re quite ready for what we may find?”
+
+“You’re being dashed mysterious, old boy.”
+
+“I know I am.” He gave a little laugh, and went on, “Perhaps I’m being
+an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am.” He looked at his
+watch.
+
+“It’s safe, is it? They’re still busy at the pond?”
+
+“We’d better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill—one of
+those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
+get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
+without letting him see you?”
+
+“Rather!” He got up eagerly. “You wait.”
+
+Antony’s head shot up suddenly. “Why, that was what Mark said,” he
+cried.
+
+“Mark?”
+
+“Yes. What Elsie heard him say.”
+
+“Oh, that.”
+
+“Yes I suppose she couldn’t have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
+him?”
+
+“She couldn’t have mistaken his voice, if that’s what you mean.”
+
+“Oh?”
+
+“Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Rather high-pitched, you know, and—well, one can’t explain, but——”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything.” He
+rattled these words off in Mark’s rather monotonous, high-pitched
+voice, and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, “I say, that
+was really rather good.”
+
+Antony nodded quickly. “That was like it?” he said.
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“Yes.” He got up and squeezed Bill’s arm. “Well just go and see about
+Cayley, and then we’ll get moving. I shall be in the library.”
+
+“Right.”
+
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was
+glorious fun; this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be
+bettered. First of all he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little
+copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards away from
+it. He would come into this from the back, creep cautiously through it,
+taking care that no twigs cracked, and then, drawing himself on his
+stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him. People were
+always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
+hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it
+himself. What fun!
+
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported to
+Antony, they were going to explore the secret passage! Again, what fun!
+Unfortunately there seemed to be no chance of buried treasure, but
+there might be buried clues. Even if you found nothing, you couldn’t
+get away from the fact that a secret passage was a secret passage, and
+anything might happen in it. But even that wasn’t the end of this
+exciting day. They were going to watch the pond that night; they were
+going to watch Cayley under the moonlight, watch him as he threw into
+the silence of the pond—what? The revolver? Well, anyhow, they were
+going to watch him. What fun!
+
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they
+were getting, it did not seem fun. But it was amazingly interesting. He
+saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of focus. It was like
+looking at an opal, and discovering with every movement of it some new
+colour, some new gleam of light reflected, and yet never really seeing
+the opal as a whole. He was too near it, or too far away; he strained
+his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good. His brain could not
+get hold of it.
+
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned away
+from it. He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never seen
+murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and to which he was
+afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded killing which any man
+may come to if he lose control. It was something much more horrible.
+Too horrible to be true. Then let him look again for the truth. He
+looked again—but it was all out of focus.
+
+“I will _not_ look again,” he said aloud, as he began to walk towards
+the house. “Not yet, anyway.” He would go on collecting facts and
+impressions. Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+
+
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley
+was still at the pond.
+
+“But I don’t think they’re getting up much except mud,” he said. “I ran
+most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible.”
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+“Well, come along, then,” he said. “The sooner, the quicker.”
+
+They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the
+Reverend Theodore Ussher’s famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill
+pulled. The shelves swung open towards them.
+
+“By Jove!” said Bill, “it is a narrow way.”
+
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had
+something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two
+feet from the ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the
+floor of it was emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and
+flashed it down into the blackness.
+
+“Look,” he whispered to the eager Bill. “The steps begin down there.
+Six feet down.”
+
+He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of
+large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+
+“You swing off from there,” said Bill. “At least, I suppose you do. I
+wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it.”
+
+“Cayley helped her, I should think.... It’s funny.”
+
+“Shall I go first?” asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony
+shook his head with a smile.
+
+“I think I will, if you don’t mind very much, Bill. Just in case.”
+
+“In case of what?”
+
+“Well, in case.”
+
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to
+wonder what Antony meant.
+
+“Righto,” he said. “Go on.”
+
+“Well, we’ll just make sure we can get back again, first. It really
+wouldn’t be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the
+rest of our lives. He’s got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if he
+has to find you and me as well—”
+
+“We can always get out at the other end.”
+
+“Well, we’re not certain yet. I think I’d better just go down and back.
+I promise faithfully not to explore.”
+
+“Right you are.”
+
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat
+there for a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the
+darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began; then returned
+it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him and swung himself
+down. His feet touched the steps beneath him, and he let go.
+
+“Is it all right?” said Bill anxiously.
+
+“All right. I’ll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back. Stay
+there.”
+
+The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For a
+little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint
+splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a
+little longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was
+alone....
+
+Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+
+“Good Lord!” said Bill, turning round with a start, “Cayley!”
+
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in
+action. Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely
+but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the right places,
+to move away to another row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in
+“Badminton” or “Baedeker” or whomever the kind gods should send to his
+aid—the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in
+five seconds rather than in six.
+
+“Ah, there you are,” said Cayley from the doorway.
+
+“Hallo!” said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume of
+“The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.” “Have they finished?”
+
+“Finished what?”
+
+“The pond,” said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on such a
+fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason....
+verifying a quotation—an argument with Antony—that would do. But _what_
+quotation?
+
+“Oh, no. They’re still at it. Where’s Gillingham?”
+
+‘The Ancient Mariner’—water, water, everywhere—or was that something
+else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...
+
+“Tony? Oh, he’s about somewhere. We’re just going down to the village.
+They aren’t finding anything at the pond, are they?”
+
+“No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can
+say they’ve done it.”
+
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said “Yes,” and went back to it
+again. He was just getting to the place.
+
+“What’s the book?” said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of
+his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that
+glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?
+
+“I was just looking up a quotation,” he drawled. “Tony and I had a bet
+about it. You know that thing about—er—water, water everywhere,
+and—er—not a drop to drink.” (But what on earth, he wondered to
+himself, were they betting about?)
+
+“‘Nor any drop to drink,’ to be accurate.”
+
+Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.
+
+“Quite sure?” he said.
+
+“Of course.”
+
+“Then you’ve saved me a lot of trouble. That’s what the bet was about.”
+He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf, and began to
+feel for his pipe and tobacco. “I was a fool to bet with Tony,” he
+added. “He always knows that sort of thing.”
+
+So far, so good. But here was Cayley still in the library, and there
+was Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage. When Antony came back he
+would not be surprised to find the door closed, because the whole
+object of his going had been to see if he could open it easily from the
+inside. At any moment, then, the bookshelf might swing back and show
+Antony’s head in the gap. A nice surprise for Cayley!
+
+“Come with us?” he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
+anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+
+“I’ve got to go into Stanton.”
+
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered
+also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+
+“Oh, a pity. You’re driving, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes. The car will be here directly. There’s a letter I must write
+first.” He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any
+moment now it might open.
+
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned.
+Obviously. But how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code.
+Did Antony know it? Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He
+had picked up a bit in the Army—not enough to send a message, of
+course. But a message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him
+tapping it out. It wouldn’t do to send more than a single letter. What
+letters did he know? And what letter would convey anything to
+Antony?.... He pulled at his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at
+his desk to the Reverend Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What letter?
+
+C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was just
+worth trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that right? C—yes, that was C. He was sure
+of that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it
+might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk
+or something. He wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley,
+and began to tap absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the
+titles. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first;
+he couldn’t get the rhythm of it....
+
+_Umpt_-y-iddy-_umpt_-y-iddy. That was better. He was back at Samuel
+Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin to hear him soon.
+_Umpt_-y-iddy-_umpt_-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a man who is
+wondering what book he will take out with him to read on the lawn.
+Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat knocking
+out his pipe. Would Antony understand? _Umpt_-y-iddy-_umpt_-y-iddy. C.
+for Cayley, Antony. Cayley’s here. For God’s sake, wait.
+
+“Good Lord! Sermons!” said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(_Umpt_-y-iddy-_umpt_-y-iddy) “Ever read ’em, Cayley?”
+
+“What?” Cayley looked up suddenly. Bill’s back moved slowly along, his
+fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+
+“Er—no,” said Cayley, with a little laugh. An awkward, uncomfortable
+little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+
+“Nor do I.” He was past the sermons now—past the secret door—but still
+tapping in the same aimless way.
+
+“Oh, for God’s sake sit down,” burst out Cayley. “Or go outside if you
+want to walk about.”
+
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+
+“Hallo, what’s the matter?”
+
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+
+“Sorry, Bill,” he apologized. “My nerves are on edge. Your constant
+tapping and fidgeting about—”
+
+“Tapping?” said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+
+“Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves.”
+
+“My dear old chap, I’m awfully sorry. I’ll go out in the hall.”
+
+“It’s all right,” said Cayley, and went on with his letter. Bill sat
+down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there was
+nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. “And if you ask me,” said
+Bill to himself, much pleased, “I ought to be on the stage. That’s
+where I ought to be. The complete actor.”
+
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now.
+Antony had guessed.
+
+“Is the car there?” asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back “Yes,” and went out to talk to
+the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
+
+“Hallo,” said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and saw
+Antony.
+
+“Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill.”
+
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said
+casually enough that it was all right.
+
+“Well, I must be off,” said Cayley. “You’re going down to the village?”
+
+“That’s the idea.”
+
+“I wonder if you’d take this letter to Jallands for me?”
+
+“Of course.”
+
+“Thanks very much. Well, I shall see you later.”
+
+He nodded and got into the car.
+
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+
+“Well?” he said excitedly.
+
+“Come into the library.”
+
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+
+“You must give me a moment,” he panted. “I’ve been running.”
+
+“Running?”
+
+“Well, of course. How do you think I got back here?”
+
+“You don’t mean you went out at the other end?”
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+“I say, did you hear me tapping?”
+
+“I did, indeed. Bill, you’re a genius.”
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+“I knew you’d understand,” he said. “You guessed that I meant Cayley?”
+
+“I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant.
+You must have had rather an exciting time.”
+
+“Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was.”
+
+“Tell me about it.”
+
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for
+a life on the stage.
+
+“Good man,” said Antony at the end of it. “You are the most perfect
+Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad,” he went on dramatically, rising
+and taking Bill’s hand in both of his, “There is nothing that you and I
+could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it.”
+
+“Silly old ass.”
+
+“That’s what you always say when I’m being serious. Well, anyway,
+thanks awfully. You really saved us this time.”
+
+“Were you coming back?”
+
+“Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
+tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of
+course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the
+other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn’t shut it until the last
+possible moment—until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the
+taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C
+began to come along I said, ‘Cayley, b’Jove’—bright, aren’t I?—and I
+simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was worth. And
+hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather
+involved in explanations—about where I was, and so on.”
+
+“You didn’t see Mark, then?”
+
+“No. Nor his—No, I didn’t see anything.”
+
+“Nor what?”
+
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+
+“I didn’t see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw a
+door in the wall, a cupboard. And it’s locked. So if there’s anything
+we want to find, that’s where it is.”
+
+“Could Mark be hiding there?”
+
+“I called through the keyhole—in a whisper—‘Mark, are you there?’—he
+would have thought it was Cayley. There was no answer.
+
+“Well, let’s go down and try again. We might be able to get the door
+open.”
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“Aren’t I going at all?” said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+
+“Can Cayley drive a car?”
+
+“Yes, of course. Why?”
+
+“Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?”
+
+“I suppose so—if he wanted to.”
+
+“Yes.” Antony got up. “Well, look here, as we said we were going into
+the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost think
+we’d better do it.”
+
+“Oh!.... Oh, very well.”
+
+“Jallands. What were you telling me about that? Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury.”
+
+“That’s right. Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter. The
+letter’s for her.”
+
+“Yes; well, let’s take it. Just to be on the safe side.”
+
+“Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?” asked
+Bill fretfully.
+
+“There’s nothing to see, really, I promise you.”
+
+“You’re very mysterious. What’s upset you? You did see something down
+there, I’m certain of it.”
+
+“I did and I’ve told you about it.”
+
+“No, you haven’t. You only told me about the door in the wall.”
+
+“That’s it, Bill. And it’s locked. And I’m frightened of what’s behind
+it.”
+
+“But then we shall never know what’s there if we aren’t going to look.”
+
+“We shall know to-night,” said Antony, taking Bill’s arm and leading
+him to the hall, “when we watch our dear friend Cayley dropping it into
+the pond.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+
+
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped
+gently downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is
+difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length of
+time, Bill had dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed to
+himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and made
+uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he noticed that his companion
+kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted to remember
+for a future occasion the way by which they were coming. Yet there was
+no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time in view of the
+road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall which bordered its
+further side stood out clearly against the sky.
+
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+
+“What’s the joke?” said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+
+“Cayley. Didn’t you see?”
+
+“See what?”
+
+“The car. Going past on the road there.”
+
+“So _that’s_ what you were looking for. You’ve got jolly good eyes, my
+boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing it
+twice.”
+
+“Well, I _have_ got jolly good eyes.”
+
+“I thought he was going to Stanton.”
+
+“He hoped you’d think so—obviously.”
+
+“Then where is he going?”
+
+“The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After making
+quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really _were_ going
+to Jallands, as they said.”
+
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+
+“I say, do you think so?”
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“I shouldn’t be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient for him,
+hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when we’re definitely
+somewhere else, must be very useful to him.”
+
+“Useful for what?”
+
+“Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he’s mixed
+up in this business; we know he’s hiding a secret or two. Even if he
+doesn’t suspect that we’re on his tracks, he must feel that at any
+moment we might stumble on something.”
+
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+
+“What about to-night?” he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+
+“Try a piece of grass,” said Antony, offering it to him. Bill pushed it
+through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, “That’s better,” and returned
+the pipe to his pocket.
+
+“How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?”
+
+“Well, that wants thinking over. It’s going to be difficult. I wish we
+were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any chance?”
+
+Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old
+thatched farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up to a
+new world, and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however, of so
+discreet a growth that they had not brought with them any obvious
+change of character, and Jallands even with a bathroom was still
+Jallands. To the outward view, at any rate. Inside, it was more clearly
+Mrs. Norbury’s.
+
+“Yes—Angela Norbury,” murmured Bill. “Not bad-looking, is she?”
+
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something
+more than “not bad-looking,” but in this matter Bill was keeping his
+superlatives for another. In Bill’s eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine. To
+Antony, unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed, quite
+simply, beautiful.
+
+“Cayley asked us to bring a letter along,” explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over. “Here you are.”
+
+“You will tell him, won’t you, how dreadfully sorry I am about—about
+what has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless
+even to believe it. If it is true what we’ve heard.”
+
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+
+“Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn’t been found yet?” She shook her head in
+distress. “It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody
+we didn’t know at all.” Then, with a sudden grave smile which included
+both of them, “But you must come and have some tea.”
+
+“It’s awfully decent of you,” said Bill awkwardly, “but we—er—”
+
+“You will, won’t you?” she said to Antony.
+
+“Thank you very much.”
+
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any
+man in her house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility.
+When her life-work was completed, and summed up in those beautiful
+words: “A marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place,
+between Angela, daughter of the late John Norbury....” then she would
+utter a grateful _Nunc dimittis_ and depart in peace—to a better world,
+if Heaven insisted, but preferably to her new son-in-law’s more
+dignified establishment. For there was no doubt that eligibility meant
+not only eligibility as a husband.
+
+But it was not as “eligibles” that the visitors from the Red House were
+received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special smile for
+“possibles” was there, it was instinctive rather than reasoned. All
+that she wanted at this moment was news—news of Mark. For she was
+bringing it off at last; and, if the engagement columns of the “Morning
+Post” were preceded, as in the case of its obituary columns, by a
+premonitory bulletin, the announcement of yesterday would have cried
+triumphantly to the world, or to such part of the world as mattered: “A
+marriage has very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will
+certainly take place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John
+Norbury, and Mark Ablett of the Red House.” And, coming across it on
+his way to the sporting page, Bill would have been surprised. For he
+had thought that, if anybody, it was Cayley.
+
+To the girl it was neither. She was often amused by her mother’s ways;
+sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them. The Mark
+Ablett affair had seemed to her particularly distressing, for Mark was
+so obviously in league with her mother against her. Other suitors, upon
+whom her mother had smiled, had been embarrassed by that championship;
+Mark appeared to depend on it as much as on his own attractions; great
+though he thought these to be. They went a-wooing together. It was a
+pleasure to turn to Cayley, that hopeless ineligible.
+
+But alas! Cayley had misunderstood her. She could not imagine Cayley in
+love—until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it. That was four
+days ago. She had not seen him since, and now here was this letter. She
+dreaded opening it. It was a relief to feel that at least she had an
+excuse for not doing so while her guests were in the house.
+
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the more
+sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and Angela had
+been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and efficiency of the
+expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on the sofa beside her,
+listening to many things which were of even greater interest to him
+than she could possibly have hoped.
+
+“It is terrible, terrible,” she said. “And to suggest that dear Mr.
+Ablett—”
+
+Antony made suitable noises.
+
+“You’ve seen Mr. Ablett for yourself. A kinder, more warmhearted man—”
+
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+“Of course, yes, I was forgetting. But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham, you
+can trust a woman’s intuition in these matters.”
+
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+
+“Think of my feelings as a mother.”
+
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury’s feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed with
+a stranger. Yet what could he do? What, indeed, did he want to do
+except listen, in the hope of learning? Mark engaged, or about to be
+engaged! Had that any bearing on the events of yesterday? What, for
+instance, would Mrs. Norbury have thought of brother Robert, that
+family skeleton? Was this another reason for wanting brother Robert out
+of the way?
+
+“I never liked him, never!”
+
+“Never liked——?” said Antony, bewildered.
+
+“That cousin of his—Mr. Cayley.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my little
+girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?”
+
+“I’m sure you wouldn’t, Mrs. Norbury.”
+
+“If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else.”
+
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+
+“I never liked him,” said Mrs. Norbury firmly. “Never.” However,
+thought Antony to himself, that didn’t quite prove that Cayley was a
+murderer.
+
+“How did Miss Norbury get on with him?” he asked cautiously.
+
+“There was _nothing_ in that at all,” said Miss Norbury’s mother
+emphatically. “_Nothing_. I would say so to anybody.”
+
+“Oh, I beg your pardon. I never meant—”
+
+“Nothing. I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence.
+Whether _he_ made advances—” She broke off with a shrug of her plump
+shoulders.
+
+Antony waited eagerly.
+
+“Naturally they met. Possibly he might have—I don’t know. But my duty
+as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham.”
+
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+
+“I told him quite frankly that—how shall I put it?—that he was
+trespassing. Tactfully, of _course_. But frankly.”
+
+“You mean,” said Antony, trying to speak calmly, “that you told him
+that—er—Mr. Ablett and your daughter—?”
+
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+
+“Exactly, Mr. Gillingham. I had my duty as a mother.”
+
+“I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing your
+duty. But it must have been disagreeable. Particularly if you weren’t
+quite sure—”
+
+“He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham. Obviously attracted.”
+
+“Who would not be?” said Antony, with a charming smile. “It must have
+been something of a shock to him to—”
+
+“It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken. I saw at
+once that I had not spoken a moment too soon.”
+
+“There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next meeting,”
+suggested Antony.
+
+“Naturally, he has not been here since. No doubt they would have been
+bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later.”
+
+“Oh,—this was only quite lately?”
+
+“Last week, Mr. Gillingham. I spoke just in time.”
+
+“Ah!” said Antony, under his breath. He had been waiting for it.
+
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have
+thought over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably, to
+have changed partners for a little while with Bill. Miss Norbury would
+hardly be ready to confide in a stranger with the readiness of a
+mother, but he might have learnt something by listening to her. For
+which of them had she the greater feeling—Cayley or Mark? Was she
+really prepared to marry Mark? Did she love him—or the other—or
+neither? Mrs. Norbury was only a trustworthy witness in regard to her
+own actions and thoughts; he had learnt all that was necessary of
+those, and only the daughter now had anything left to tell him. But
+Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+
+“Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham,” she was saying. “It is
+fortunate that they have mothers to guide them. It was so obvious to me
+from the beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband for my
+little girl. You never knew him?”
+
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+“Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular
+Velasquez—I should say Van Dyck. Angela would have it that she could
+never marry a man with a beard. As if _that_ mattered, when—” She broke
+off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+
+“The Red House is certainly charming,” he said.
+
+“Charming. Quite charming. And it is not as if Mr. Ablett’s appearance
+were in any way undistinguished. Quite the contrary. I’m sure you agree
+with me?”
+
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+
+“Yes. And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world. So
+desirable in every way.”
+
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little. Antony
+was about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs. Norbury began
+again.
+
+“And then there’s this scapegrace brother of his. He was perfectly
+frank with me, Mr. Gillingham. He would be. He told me of this brother,
+and I told him that I was quite certain it would make no difference to
+my daughter’s feelings for him.... After all, the brother was in
+Australia.”
+
+“When was this? Yesterday?” Antony felt that, if Mark had only
+mentioned it after his brother’s announcement of a personal call at the
+Red House, this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom behind it.
+
+“It couldn’t have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham. Yesterday—” she
+shuddered, and shook her head.
+
+“I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning.”
+
+“Oh, no! There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too devoted a
+lover. Not in the morning, no. We both agreed that dear Angela—Oh, no.
+No; the day before yesterday, when he happened to drop in about
+tea-time.”
+
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her
+opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically engaged.
+She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be rushed, that dear
+Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at all.
+
+“The day before yesterday. As it happened, dear Angela was out. Not
+that it mattered. He was driving to Middleston. He hardly had time for
+a cup of tea, so that even if she had been in—”
+
+Antony nodded absently. This was something new. Why did Mark go to
+Middleston the day before yesterday? But, after all, why shouldn’t he?
+A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might have taken
+him there.
+
+He got up to go. He wanted to be alone—alone, at least, with Bill. Mrs.
+Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great
+outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason to
+hate Mark,—Mrs. Norbury had given him that reason. To hate? Well, to be
+jealous, anyhow. But that was enough.
+
+“You see,” he said to Bill, as they walked back, “we know that Cayley
+is perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and that
+must be for one of two reasons. Either to save Mark or to endanger him.
+That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly
+against him. Well, now we know that he is against him, definitely
+against him.”
+
+“But, I say, you know,” protested Bill, “one doesn’t necessarily try to
+ruin one’s rival in love.”
+
+“Doesn’t one?” said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+“Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean—”
+
+“You mightn’t try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn’t perjure yourself
+in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making.”
+
+“Lord! no.”
+
+“So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely.”
+
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them from
+the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and leant
+against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the house which
+they had left.
+
+“Jolly little place, isn’t it?” said Bill.
+
+“Very. But rather mysterious.”
+
+“In what way?”
+
+“Well, where’s the front door?”
+
+“The front door? Why, you’ve just come out of it.”
+
+“But isn’t there a drive, or a road or anything?”
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+“No; that’s the beauty of it to some people. And that’s why it’s so
+cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect. They’re not too
+well off.”
+
+“But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?”
+
+“Oh, there’s a cart-track, but motor-cars can’t come any nearer than
+the road”—he turned round and pointed—“up there. So the week-end
+millionaire people don’t take it. At least, they’d have to build a road
+and a garage and all the rest of it, if they did.”
+
+“I see,” said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and continued
+their walk up to the road. But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+Getting Ready for the Night
+
+
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night?
+Antony thought that he knew now. It was Mark’s body.
+
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back
+from it. For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded
+killing. Was Cayley equal to it? Bill would have said “No,” but that
+was because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and
+dinner with him; had ragged him and played games with him. Bill would
+have said “No,” because Bill wouldn’t have killed anybody in cold blood
+himself, and because he took it for granted that other people behaved
+pretty much as he did. But Antony had no such illusions. Murders were
+done; murder had actually been done here, for there was Robert’s dead
+body. Why not another murder?
+
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon? The only evidence
+(other than Cayley’s, which obviously did not count) was Elsie’s. Elsie
+was quite certain that she had heard his voice. But then Bill had said
+that it was a very characteristic voice—an easy voice, therefore, to
+imitate. If Bill could imitate it so successfully, why not Cayley?
+
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all.
+Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over
+the girl whom they were both wooing. Suppose Cayley had killed Mark,
+either purposely, in sudden passion, or accidentally, meaning only to
+knock him down. Suppose that this had happened in the passage, say
+about two o’clock, either because Cayley had deliberately led him
+there, or because Mark had casually suggested a visit to it. (One could
+imagine Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.) Suppose
+Cayley there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round
+his neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search for a
+way of escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly he remembers
+that Robert is coming to the house at three o’clock that
+afternoon—automatically he looks at his watch—in half an hour’s
+time.... In half an hour’s time. He must think of something quickly,
+quickly. Shall he bury the body in the passage and let it be thought
+that Mark ran away, frightened at the mere thought of his brother’s
+arrival? But there was the evidence of the breakfast table. Mark had
+seemed annoyed at this resurrection of the black sheep, but certainly
+not frightened. No; that was much too thin a story. But suppose Mark
+had actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose it
+could be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark—
+
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over the
+dead body of his cousin, and working it out. How could Robert be made
+to seem the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it? But suppose
+Robert were dead, too?
+
+He looks at his watch again. (Only twenty-five minutes now.) Suppose
+Robert were dead, too? Robert dead in the office, and Mark dead in the
+passage—how does that help? Madness! But if the bodies were brought
+together somehow and Robert’s death looked like suicide?.... Was it
+possible?
+
+Madness again. Too difficult. (Only twenty minutes now.) Too difficult
+to arrange in twenty minutes. Can’t arrange a suicide. Too
+difficult.... Only nineteen minutes....
+
+And then the sudden inspiration! Robert dead in the office, Mark’s body
+hidden in the passage—impossible to make Robert seem the murderer, but
+how easy to make Mark! Robert dead and Mark missing; why, it jumped to
+the eye at once. Mark had killed Robert—accidentally; yes, that would
+be more likely—and then had run away. Sudden panic.... (He looks at his
+watch again. Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now. The thing
+arranges itself.)
+
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered. It seemed to fit in with the
+facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory which he
+had suggested to Bill in the morning.
+
+“Which one?” said Bill.
+
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting in
+the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and his fishermen
+had now withdrawn. Bill had listened with open mouth to Antony’s
+theory, and save for an occasional “By Jove!” had listened in silence.
+“Smart man, Cayley,” had been his only comment at the end.
+
+“Which other theory?”
+
+“That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the
+office door from the outside and hammered on it.”
+
+“Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that. I asked you what
+the point of it was, and you wouldn’t say anything.” He thought for a
+little, and then went on, “I suppose you meant that Cayley deliberately
+betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like a murderer?”
+
+“I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the passage,
+alive or dead.”
+
+“And now you don’t think so?”
+
+“Now I think that his dead body is there.”
+
+“Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards—after you had
+come, after the police had come?”
+
+“Well, that’s what I shrink from, Bill. It’s so horribly cold-blooded.
+Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of it.”
+
+“But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough. According to
+you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with whom
+he has no quarrel, whom he hasn’t seen for fifteen years!”
+
+“Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is
+that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in
+sudden passion. Anything that happened after that would be
+self-defense. I don’t mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it.
+And I think that Mark’s dead body is in the passage now, and has been
+there since, say, half-past two yesterday afternoon. And to-night
+Cayley is going to hide it in the pond.”
+
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful
+or two, and said slowly, “You may be right, but it’s all guess-work,
+you know.”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“Good Lord, of course it is,” he said. “And to-night we shall know if
+it’s a good guess or a bad one.”
+
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+
+“To-night,” he said. “I say, to-night’s going to be rather fun. How do
+we work it?”
+
+Antony was silent for a little.
+
+“Of course,” he said at last, “we ought to inform the police, so that
+they can come here and watch the pond to-night.”
+
+“Of course,” grinned Bill.
+
+“But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories
+before them.”
+
+“I think perhaps it is,” said Bill solemnly.
+
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+
+“Bill, you old bounder.”
+
+“Well, dash it, it’s our show. I don’t see why we shouldn’t get our
+little bit of fun out of it.”
+
+“Neither do I. All right, then, we’ll do without the police to-night.”
+
+“We shall miss them,” said Bill sadly, “but ’tis better so.”
+
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of getting
+out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and secondly, the
+problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley dropped into the
+pond that night.
+
+“Let’s look at it from Cayley’s point of view,” said Antony. “He may
+not know that we’re on his track, but he can’t help being suspicious of
+us. He’s bound to be suspicious of everybody in the house, and more
+particularly of us, because we’re presumably more intelligent than the
+others.”
+
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the
+opportunity of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+
+“Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he’s going to take
+good care that we aren’t watching him. Well, what will he do?”
+
+“See that we are asleep first, before he starts out.”
+
+“Yes. Come and tuck us up, and see that we’re nice and comfortable.”
+
+“Yes, that’s awkward,” said Bill. “But we could lock our doors, and
+then he wouldn’t know that we weren’t there.”
+
+“Have you ever locked your door?”
+
+“Never.”
+
+“No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he’d bang on it,
+and you wouldn’t answer, and then what would he think?”
+
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+
+“Then I don’t see how we’re going to do it,” he said, after deep
+thought. “He’ll obviously come to us just before he starts out, and
+that doesn’t give us time to get to the pond in front of him.”
+
+“Let’s put ourselves in his place,” said Antony, puffing slowly at his
+pipe. “He’s got the body, or whatever it is, in the passage. He won’t
+come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look in at our doors
+to see if we’re awake. He’ll have to make sure about us first, and then
+go down for the body afterwards. So that gives us a little time.”
+
+“Y-yes,” said Bill thoughtfully. “We might just do it, but it’ll be a
+bit of a rush.”
+
+“But wait. When he’s gone down to the passage and got the body, what
+will he do next?”
+
+“Come out again,” said Bill helpfully.
+
+“Yes; but which end?”
+
+Bill sat up with a start.
+
+“By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?”
+
+“Don’t you think so? Just imagine him walking across the lawn in full
+view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms. Think of the
+awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering if
+anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to wander to
+the window and look out into the night. There’s still plenty of
+moonlight, Bill. Is he going to walk across the park in the moonlight,
+with all those windows staring at him? Not if he can help it. But he
+can get out by the bowling green, and then come to the pond without
+ever being in sight of the house, at all.”
+
+“You’re right. And that will just about give us time. Good. Now, what’s
+the next thing?”
+
+“The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he
+drops—whatever he drops.”
+
+“So that we can fish it out again.”
+
+“If we can see what it is, we shan’t want to. The police can have a go
+at it to-morrow. But if it’s something we can’t identify from a
+distance, then we must try and get it out. To see whether it’s worth
+telling the police about.”
+
+“Y-yes,” said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. “Of course, the trouble
+with water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I
+don’t know if that had occurred to you.
+
+“It had,” smiled Antony. “Let’s come and have a look at it.”
+
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence,
+looking at the pond beneath them.
+
+“See anything?” said Antony at last.
+
+“What?”
+
+“The fence on the other side.”
+
+“What about it?”
+
+“Well, it’s rather useful, that’s all.”
+
+“Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically,” added Bill. “A moment later, his
+friend Watson had hurled him into the pond.”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“I love being Sherlocky,” he said. “It’s very unfair of you not to play
+up to me.”
+
+“Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?” said Bill obediently.
+
+“Because you can take a bearing on it. You see—”
+
+“Yes, you needn’t stop to explain to me what a bearing is.”
+
+“I wasn’t going to. But you’re lying here”—he looked up—“underneath
+this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his parcel
+in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it off on the
+fence there. Say it’s the fifth post from the end. Well, then I take a
+line from _my_ tree—we’ll find one for me directly—and it comes on to
+the twentieth post, say. And where the two lines meet, there shall the
+eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I almost forgot to
+remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving
+act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome.”
+
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+
+“I say, really? It’s beastly dirty water, you know.”
+
+“I’m afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of Jasher.”
+
+“Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped—oh, well,
+it’s a warm night.”
+
+“Just the night for a bathe,” agreed Antony, getting up. “Well now,
+let’s have a look for my tree.”
+
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill’s
+tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet
+nearer to heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the
+other end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally
+conspicuous.
+
+“That’s where I shall be,” said Antony, pointing to it. “Now, for the
+Lord’s sake, count your posts accurately.”
+
+“Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake,” said Bill with
+feeling. “I don’t want to spend the whole night diving.”
+
+“Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then
+count backwards to the beginning of the fence.”
+
+“Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head.”
+
+“Well, that’s how you will have to do the last part of it,” said Antony
+with a smile.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They
+started to walk back to the house together.
+
+“There’s one thing which worries me rather,” said Antony. “Where does
+Cayley sleep?”
+
+“Next door to me. Why?”
+
+“Well, it’s just possible that he might have another look at you after
+he’s come back from the pond. I don’t think he’d bother about it in the
+ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think he might
+glance in.”
+
+“I shan’t be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking up
+mud.”
+
+“Yes.... Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked
+vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it,
+and one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for
+the head. You know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to
+feel that you were still sleeping peacefully.”
+
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+“Rather. I’m awfully good at that. I’ll make him up something really
+good. But what about you?”
+
+“I’m at the other end of the house; he’s hardly likely to bother about
+me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first
+visit. Still, I may as well—to be on the safe side.”
+
+They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He
+nodded, and took out his watch.
+
+“Time to change?” he said.
+
+“Just about,” said Bill.
+
+“You didn’t forget my letter?”
+
+“I did not. In fact, we had tea there.”
+
+“Ah!” He looked away and said carelessly, “How were they all?”
+
+“They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and—and all that
+sort of thing.”
+
+“Oh, yes.”
+
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing was
+coming, he turned round, said, “Come on, Tony,” and led the way
+upstairs.
+
+“Got all you want?” he said at the top of the stairs.
+
+“I think so. Come and see me before you go down.”
+
+“Righto.”
+
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window.
+He pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over the
+door at the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which
+projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his
+left. He could step out on to the top of the door, and from there drop
+easily to the ground. Getting back would be little more difficult.
+There was a convenient water-pipe which would help.
+
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. “Final
+instructions?” he asked, sitting down on the bed. “By the way, how are
+we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner.”
+
+“Billiards?”
+
+“Righto. Anything you like.”
+
+“Don’t talk too loud,” said Antony in a lower voice. “We’re more or
+less over the hall, and Cayley may be there.” He led the way to the
+window. “We’ll go out this way to-night. Going downstairs is too risky.
+It’s easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes.”
+
+“Right. I say, in case I don’t get another chance alone with you—what
+do I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?”
+
+“It’s difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he just
+knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don’t overdo the snoring. But
+if he makes a hell of a noise, you’ll have to wake up and rub your
+eyes, and wonder what on earth he’s doing in your room at all. You know
+the sort of thing.”
+
+“Right. And about the dummy figure. I’ll make it up directly we come
+upstairs, and hide it under the bed.”
+
+“Yes.... I think we’d better go completely to bed ourselves. We shan’t
+take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get safely
+into the passage. Then come into my room.”
+
+“Right.... Are you ready?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+They went downstairs together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+
+
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he
+suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front
+of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could stand
+it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down
+hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been
+lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But
+in the end he had been firm.
+
+“What about a little billiards?” he said, shaking himself free from the
+others.
+
+“Will you play?” said Antony to Cayley.
+
+“I’ll watch you,” he said, and he had watched them resolutely until the
+game, and then another game after that, had been played.
+
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+
+“Well, thank heaven for bed,” said Bill; putting down his glass. “Are
+you coming?”
+
+“Yes,” said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
+
+“I’ve just got one or two little things to do,” said Cayley. “I shan’t
+be long following you.”
+
+“Well, good night, then.”
+
+“Good night.”
+
+“Good night,” called Bill from half-way up the stairs. “Good night,
+Tony.”
+
+“Good night.”
+
+Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything
+happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what
+to wear on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and
+a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse
+for some time. And—good idea—a towel. He would want it later on, and
+meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.
+
+Tennis-shoes.... There. Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy
+figure.
+
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen.
+How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and
+then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to
+become accustomed to the new darkness.... He could only just make out
+the bed in the corner of the room. Cayley would want more light than
+that if he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was
+occupied. He pulled the curtains a little way back. That was about
+right. He could have another look later on, when he had the dummy
+figure in the bed.
+
+How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn’t that he wanted
+his friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on
+his business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they
+were safely in their bedrooms. Cayley’s business would make no noise,
+give no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so
+long as the household was really inside the house. But if he wished to
+reassure himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they
+were far enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he
+came up to reassure himself. So it amounted to the same thing, really.
+He would wait until they were asleep.... until they were asleep....
+asleep....
+
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal
+if he went to sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep .... And then,
+in an instant, he was intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at
+all!
+
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his
+business. Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that
+secret of his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony
+have taken such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley’s place, he had said.
+But how was it possible? They weren’t Cayley. Cayley was at the pond
+now. They would never know what he had dropped into it.
+
+_Listen!_.... Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now.
+Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.... The door was
+opening. He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord, suppose
+Cayley really _was_ a murderer! Why, even now he might be—no, he
+mustn’t think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn
+round. He mustn’t turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep.
+But why didn’t the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him?
+And in his hand—no, he mustn’t think of that. He was asleep. But why
+didn’t the door shut?
+
+The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed, a
+sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very
+natural sound—a deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one
+to it to make it seem more natural. The door was shut.
+
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up. As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark. He put the
+dummy figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just enough but
+not too much of it was showing, and stood by the door looking at it.
+For a casual glance the room was just about light enough. Then very
+quietly, very slowly he opened the door. All was still. There was no
+light from beneath the door of Cayley’s room. Very quietly, very
+carefully he crept along the passage to Antony’s room. He opened the
+door and went in.
+
+Antony was still in bed. Bill walked across to wake him up, and then
+stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs. There was
+somebody else in the room.
+
+“All right, Bill,” said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out from
+the curtains.
+
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+
+“Rather good, isn’t it?” said Antony, coming closer and pointing to the
+bed. “Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better.”
+
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him. They
+reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across the lawn
+and so, over the fence, into the park. It was not until they were out
+of sight of the house that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+
+“I quite thought it was you in bed,” he said.
+
+“I hoped you would. I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley
+doesn’t call again. It’s a pity to waste it.”
+
+“He came all right just now?”
+
+“Oh, rather. What about you?”
+
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+
+“There wouldn’t have been much point in his killing you,” said Antony
+prosaically. “Besides being too risky.”
+
+“Oh!” said Bill. And then, “I _had_ rather hoped that it was his love
+for me which restrained him.”
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+“I doubt it.... You didn’t turn up your light when you dressed?”
+
+“Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?”
+
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+
+“You’re a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on anything
+together.”
+
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees
+which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously
+silent. It seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.
+
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+
+“There’s your tree, there’s mine. As long as you don’t move, there’s no
+chance of his seeing you. After he’s gone, don’t come out till I do. He
+won’t be here for a quarter of an hour or so, so don’t be impatient.”
+
+“Righto,” whispered Bill.
+
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+
+The minutes went by slowly. To Antony, lying hidden in the undergrowth
+at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting itself. Suppose
+Cayley had to make more than one journey that night? He might come back
+to find them in the boat; one of them, indeed, in the water. And if
+they decided to wait in hiding, on the chance of Cayley coming back
+again, what was the least time they could safely allow? Perhaps it
+would be better to go round to the front of the house and watch for his
+return there, the light in his bedroom, before conducting their
+experiments at the pond. But then they might miss his second visit in
+this way, if he made a second visit. It was difficult.
+
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and
+suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by the
+boat. In his hand was a small brown bag.
+
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using an
+oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off. Then, very silently, he rowed
+towards the middle of the pond.
+
+He had stopped. The oars rested on the water. He picked up the bag from
+between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and rested it
+lightly on the water for a moment. Then he let go. It sank slowly. He
+waited there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it might rise again.
+Antony began to count....
+
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place. He tied up the boat,
+looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him,
+and then turned to the water again. For a long time, as it seemed to
+the watchers, he stood there, very big, very silent, in the moonlight.
+At last he seemed satisfied. Whatever his secret was, he had hidden it;
+and so with a gentle sigh, as unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard
+it, Cayley turned away and vanished again as quietly as he had come.
+
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees. He
+waited there for Bill to join him.
+
+“Six,” whispered Bill.
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+“I’m going round to the front of the house. You get back to your tree
+and watch, in case Cayley comes again. Your bedroom is the left-hand
+end one, and Cayley’s the end but one? Is that right?”
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+“Right. Wait in hiding till I come back. I don’t know how long I shall
+be, but don’t be impatient. It will seem longer than it is.” He patted
+Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod of the head he left
+him there.
+
+What was in the bag? What could Cayley want to hide other than a key or
+a revolver? Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need to put them
+in a bag first. What was in the bag? Something which wouldn’t sink of
+itself; something which needed to be helped with stones before it would
+hide itself safely in the mud.
+
+Well, they would find that out. There was no object in worrying about
+it now. Bill had a dirty night’s work in front of him. But where was
+the body which Antony had expected so confidently or, if there were no
+body, where was Mark?
+
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley? As quickly as he could
+Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying in the
+shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light to go up in
+Cayley’s window. If it went up in Bill’s window, then they were
+discovered. It would mean that Cayley had glanced into Bill’s room, had
+been suspicious of the dummy figure in the bed, and had turned up the
+light to make sure. After that, it was war between them. But if it went
+up in Cayley’s room—
+
+There was a light. Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement. It was in
+Bill’s room. War!
+
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up,
+blowing the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest of
+the house. Bill had left his curtains undrawn. It was careless of him;
+the first stupid thing he had done, but—
+
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the
+bushes. There was another window beyond Cayley’s, and there was no
+light in it. The declaration of war was postponed.
+
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed. After all it was only
+polite to return Cayley’s own solicitude earlier in the night.
+Politeness demanded that one should not disport oneself on the pond
+until one’s friends were comfortably tucked up.
+
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he
+might spoil everything by forgetting the number “six.” It was the sixth
+post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These he
+arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond,
+counted up to the sixth post, and murmured “six” to himself again. Then
+he looked down at his twigs. One—two—three—four—five—six—seven.
+_Seven!_ Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental
+bit which had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said
+“six” to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right.
+Six. He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six
+together. Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of
+a tall man—well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to
+remember it. Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder
+about the bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth
+of the water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering,
+and saying, “Good Lord, what a life!” to himself, when Antony
+reappeared.
+
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+
+“Six,” he said firmly. “Sixth post from the end.”
+
+“Good,” smiled Antony. “Mine was the eighteenth—a little way past it.”
+
+“What did you go off for?”
+
+“To see Cayley into bed.”
+
+“Is it all right?”
+
+“Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall see
+it more easily. I’ll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to
+undress here or in the boat?”
+
+“Some here, and some in the boat. You’re quite sure that you wouldn’t
+like to do the diving yourself?”
+
+“Quite, thanks.”
+
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the
+sixth post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position,
+and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the
+eighteenth post. When they were ready, they got into the boat, Antony
+taking the oars.
+
+“Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I’m in a line with your two marks.”
+
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+
+“You’re about there now,” said Bill at last.
+
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+
+“Yes, that’s pretty well right.” He turned the boat’s nose round until
+it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain. “You see my
+tree and the other coat?”
+
+“Yes,” said Bill.
+
+“Right. Now then, I’m going to row gently along this line until we’re
+dead in between the two. Get it as exact as you can—for your own sake.”
+
+“Steady!” said Bill warningly. “Back a little.... a little more .... a
+little more forward again.... Right.” Antony left the oars on the water
+and looked around. As far as he could tell, they were in an exact line
+with each pair of landmarks.
+
+“Now then, Bill, in you go.”
+
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+
+“You mustn’t dive from the boat, old boy,” said Antony hastily. “You’ll
+shift its position. Slide in gently.”
+
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+
+“What’s it like?” said Antony.
+
+“Cold. Well, here’s luck to it.”
+
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was gone.
+Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his landmarks.
+
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion. “It’s pretty muddy,” he
+protested.
+
+“Weeds?”
+
+“No, thank the Lord.”
+
+“Well, try again.”
+
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared. Again Antony coaxed the boat
+back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in front of
+him.
+
+“I feel that if I threw you a sardine,” said Antony, with a smile,
+“you’d catch it in your mouth quite prettily.”
+
+“It’s awfully easy to be funny from where you are. How much longer have
+I got to go on doing this?”
+
+Antony looked at his watch.
+
+“About three hours. We must get back before daylight. But be quicker if
+you can, because it’s rather cold for me sitting here.”
+
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again. He was
+under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on his face
+when it was visible again.
+
+“I’ve got it, but it’s devilish hard to get up. I’m not sure that it
+isn’t too heavy for me.”
+
+“That’s all right,” said Antony. He brought out a ball of thick string
+from his pocket. “Get this through the handle if you can, and then we
+can both pull.”
+
+“Good man.” He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again. “Now then.”
+
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat. Bill clambered in
+after it, and Antony rowed back. “Well done, Watson,” he said quietly,
+as they landed. He fetched their two coats, and then waited, the bag in
+his hand, while Bill dried and dressed himself. As soon as the latter
+was ready, he took his arm and led him into the copse. He put the bag
+down and felt in his pockets.
+
+“I shall light a pipe before I open it,” he said. “What about you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes. Bill’s hand was a
+little unsteady. Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+
+“Ready?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed the
+catch and opened it.
+
+“Clothes!” said Bill.
+
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out. It was a wet brown
+flannel coat.
+
+“Do you recognize it?” he asked.
+
+“Mark’s brown flannel suit.”
+
+“The one he is advertised as having run away in?”
+
+“Yes. It looks like it. Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes.”
+
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters. He
+considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+
+“I suppose I’d better read them,” he said. “I mean, just to see—” He
+looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded. Antony turned on his torch and
+glanced at them. Bill waited anxiously.
+
+“Yes. Mark.... Hallo!”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about. From Robert.
+‘Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you—’ Yes, I suppose I had
+better keep this. Well, that’s his coat. Let’s have out the rest of
+it.” He took the remaining clothes from the bag and spread them out.
+
+“They’re all here,” said Bill. “Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes—yes, all of them.”
+
+“All that he was wearing yesterday?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What do you make of it?”
+
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+
+“Is it what you expected?”
+
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+
+“It’s too absurd,” he said. “I expected—well, you know what I expected.
+A body. A body in a suit of clothes. Well, perhaps it would be safer to
+hide them separately. The body here, and the clothes in the passage,
+where they would never betray themselves. And now he takes a great deal
+of trouble to hide the clothes here, and doesn’t bother about the body
+at all.” He shook his head. “I’m a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and
+that’s the fact.”
+
+“Anything else there?”
+
+Antony felt in the bag.
+
+“Stones and—yes, there’s something else.” He took it out and held it
+up. “There we are, Bill.”
+
+It was the office key.
+
+“By Jove, you were right.”
+
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down on
+the grass. A dozen large stones fell out—and something else. He flashed
+down his torch.
+
+“Another key,” he said.
+
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in
+silence, thinking. Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt his
+thoughts, but at last he said:
+
+“Shall I put these things back?”
+
+Antony looked up with a start.
+
+“What? Oh, yes. No, I’ll put them back. You give me a light, will you?”
+
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag, pausing
+as he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed to Bill,
+that it had something to tell him if only he could read it. When the
+last of them was inside, he still waited there on his knees, thinking.
+
+“That’s the lot,” said Bill.
+
+Antony nodded at him.
+
+“Yes, that’s the lot,” he said; “and that’s the funny thing about it.
+You’re sure it is the lot?”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Give me the torch a moment.” He took it and flashed it over the ground
+between them. “Yes, that’s the lot. It’s funny.” He stood up, the bag
+in his hands. “Now let’s find a hiding-place for these, and then—” He
+said no more, but stepped off through the trees, Bill following him
+meekly.
+
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of the
+copse, Antony became more communicative. He took the two keys out of
+his pocket.
+
+“One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key of
+the passage cupboard. So I thought that perhaps we might have a look at
+the cupboard.”
+
+“I say, do you really think it is?”
+
+“Well, I don’t see what else it can be.”
+
+“But why should he want to throw it away?”
+
+“Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to
+wash his hands of the passage. He’d throw the passage away if he could.
+I don’t think it matters much one way or another, and I don’t suppose
+there’s anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel that we must
+look.”
+
+“Do you still think Mark’s body might be there?”
+
+“No. And yet where else can it be? Unless I’m hopelessly wrong, and
+Cayley never killed him at all.”
+
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+
+“I know you’ll think me an ass—”
+
+“My dear Bill, I’m such an obvious ass myself that I should be
+delighted to think you are too.”
+
+“Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him to
+escape, just as we thought at first. I know you proved afterwards that
+it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a way we don’t know about
+and for reasons we don’t know about. I mean, there are such a lot of
+funny things about the whole show that—well, almost anything might have
+happened.”
+
+“You’re quite right. Well?”
+
+“Well, then, this clothes business. Doesn’t that seem rather to bear
+out the escaping theory? Mark’s brown suit was known to the police.
+Couldn’t Cayley have brought him another one in the passage, to escape
+in, and then have had the brown one on his hands? And thought it safest
+to hide it in the pond?”
+
+“Yes,” said Anthony thoughtfully. Then: “Go on.”
+
+Bill went on eagerly:
+
+“It all seems to fit in, you know. I mean even with your first
+theory—that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley for
+help. Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he’d have told Mark that he
+had nothing to be afraid of. But he isn’t playing fair; he wants to get
+Mark out of the way because of the girl. Well, this is his chance. He
+makes Mark as frightened as possible, and tells him that his only hope
+is to run away. Well, naturally, he does all he can to get him well
+away, because if Mark is caught, the whole story of Cayley’s treachery
+comes out.”
+
+“Yes. But isn’t it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything? It wastes a good deal of time, you know.”
+
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, “Oh!” in great disappointment.
+
+“No, it’s not as bad as that, Bill,” said Antony with a smile. “I
+daresay the underclothes could be explained. But here’s the difficulty.
+Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or whatever it was,
+when Cayley was the only person who saw him in brown?”
+
+“The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit.”
+
+“Yes, because Cayley told the police. You see, even if Mark had had
+lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley could
+always have pretended that he had changed into blue after lunch,
+because only Cayley saw him afterwards. So if Cayley had told the
+Inspector that he was wearing blue, Mark could have escaped quite
+comfortably in his brown, without needing to change at all.”
+
+“But that’s just what he did do,” cried Bill triumphantly. “What fools
+we are!”
+
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+
+“Yes, yes!” insisted Bill. “Of course! Don’t you see? Mark did change
+after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting away, Cayley
+lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in which the servants
+had seen him. Well, then he was afraid that the police might examine
+Mark’s clothes and find the brown suit still there, so he hid it, and
+then dropped it in the pond afterwards.”
+
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing. Bill began to
+speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+
+“Don’t say anything more, old boy; you’ve given me quite enough to
+think about. Don’t let’s bother about it to-night. We’ll just have a
+look at this cupboard and then get to bed.”
+
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night. It was empty
+save for a few old bottles.
+
+“Well, that’s that,” said Bill.
+
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to
+search for something.
+
+“What are you looking for?” asked Bill at last.
+
+“Something that isn’t there,” said Antony, getting up and dusting his
+trousers. And he locked the door again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+Guess-work
+
+
+The inquest was at three o’clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim
+on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o’clock his bag was packed,
+and waiting to be taken to ‘The George.’ To Bill, coming upstairs after
+a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little
+surprising.
+
+“What’s the hurry?” he asked.
+
+“None. But we don’t want to come back here after the inquest. Get your
+packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves.”
+
+“Righto.” He turned to go to his room, and then came back again. “I
+say, are we going to tell Cayley that we’re staying at ‘The George’?”
+
+“You’re not staying at ‘The George,’ Bill. Not officially. You’re going
+back to London.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Yes. Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for you
+when you catch a train there after the inquest. You can tell him that
+you’ve got to see the Bishop of London at once. The fact that you are
+hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it seem more natural
+that I should resume my interrupted solitude at ‘The George’ as soon as
+you have gone.”
+
+“Then where do I sleep to-night?”
+
+“Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect, in my
+bed, unless they’ve got another spare room at ‘The George.’ I’ve put
+your confirmation robe—I mean your pyjamas and brushes and things—in my
+bag, ready for you. Is there anything else you want to know? No? Then
+go and pack. And meet me at ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in
+the hall or somewhere. I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must
+have my Watson.”
+
+“Good,” said Bill, and went off to his room.
+
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley, they
+wandered out together into the park.
+
+“Well?” said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree. “Talk
+away.”
+
+“I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning,” began Antony.
+“The brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and
+working at this thing from the wrong end altogether.”
+
+“Well, that’s helpful.”
+
+“Of course it’s very hampering being a detective, when you don’t know
+anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you’re doing
+detection, and you can’t have people up to cross-examine them, and you
+have neither the energy nor the means to make proper inquiries; and, in
+short, when you’re doing the whole thing in a thoroughly amateur,
+haphazard way.”
+
+“For amateurs I don’t think we’re doing at all badly,” protested Bill.
+
+“No; not for amateurs. But if we had been professionals, I believe we
+should have gone at it from the other end. The Robert end. We’ve been
+wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time. Now let’s wonder about
+Robert for a bit.”
+
+“We know so little about him.”
+
+“Well, let’s see what we do know. First of all, then, we know vaguely
+that he was a bad lot—the sort of brother who is hushed up in front of
+other people.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a rather
+unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And then we know rather a curious thing. We know that Mark told you
+all that this black sheep was coming. Now, why did he tell you?”
+
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+
+“I suppose,” he said slowly, “that he knew we were bound to see him,
+and thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him.”
+
+“But were you bound to see him? You were all away playing golf.”
+
+“We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night.”
+
+“Very well, then. That’s one thing we’ve discovered. Mark knew that
+Robert was staying in the house that night. Or shall we put it this
+way—he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert out of the house
+at once.”
+
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+
+“Go on,” he said. “This is getting interesting.”
+
+“He also knew something else,” went on Antony. “He knew that Robert was
+bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him. He
+couldn’t pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the
+Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once,
+because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel.”
+
+“Yes. That’s sound enough.”
+
+“Well, now, doesn’t it strike you that Mark made up his mind about all
+that rather quickly?”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read
+it he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second
+he thought out the whole business and came to a decision—to two
+decisions. He considered the possibility of getting Robert out of the
+way before you came back, and decided that it was impossible. He
+considered the possibility of Robert’s behaving like an ordinary decent
+person in public, and decided that it was very unlikely. He came to
+those two decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter.
+Isn’t that rather quick work?”
+
+“Well, what’s the explanation?”
+
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+
+“What’s the explanation? Well, let’s leave it for a moment and take
+another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs.
+Norbury.”
+
+“Mrs. Norbury?” said Bill, surprised.
+
+“Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a
+blot upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things.
+Either keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come
+out, tell them himself before the news came to them indirectly. Well,
+he told them. But the funny thing is that he told them the day before
+Robert’s letter came. Robert came, and was killed, the day before
+yesterday—Tuesday. Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday. What do
+you make of that?”
+
+“Coincidence,” said Bill, after careful thought. “He’d always meant to
+tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was finally
+settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got
+Robert’s letter, and felt jolly glad that he’d told her in time.”
+
+“Well, it might be that, but it’s rather a curious coincidence. And
+here is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred
+to me in the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it’s
+this—he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the
+car.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well.”
+
+“Sorry, Tony; I’m dense this morning.”
+
+“In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?”
+
+“About six hundred yards.”
+
+“Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark
+stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says,
+‘Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don’t think I ever told you that I
+have a shady brother called Robert,’ walks six hundred yards up the
+hill again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that
+likely?”
+
+Bill frowned heavily.
+
+“Yes, but I don’t see what you’re getting at. Likely or not likely, we
+know he did do it.”
+
+“Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong
+reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is
+that he knew on that morning—Monday morning, not Tuesday—that Robert
+was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+
+“But—but—”
+
+“And that would explain the other point—his instantaneous decision at
+breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn’t instantaneous.
+He knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you
+would all have to know.”
+
+“Then how do you explain the letter?”
+
+“Well, let’s have a look at it.”
+
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass
+between them.
+
+_“Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way
+from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal
+your surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or
+thereabouts.”_
+
+“No date mentioned, you see,” said Antony. “Just to-morrow.”
+
+“But he got this on Tuesday.”
+
+“Did he?”
+
+“Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday.”
+
+“Oh, yes! he read it out to you.”
+
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the
+back of it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+
+“What about the postmark?” he asked.
+
+“We haven’t got the envelope, unfortunately.”
+
+“And you think that he got this letter on Monday.”
+
+“I’m inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think—I feel almost
+certain—that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming.”
+
+“Is that going to help us much?”
+
+“No. It makes it more difficult. There’s something rather uncanny about
+it all. I don’t understand it.” He was silent for a little, and then
+added, “I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+
+“What about last night? I’m longing to hear what you make of that. Have
+you been thinking it out at all?”
+
+“Last night,” said Antony thoughtfully to himself. “Yes, last night
+wants some explaining.”
+
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had
+Antony been looking for in the cupboard?
+
+“I think,” began Antony slowly, “that after last night we must give up
+the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I don’t
+believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of clothes
+when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more
+important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that
+Cayley had to hide.”
+
+“But why not have kept them in the passage?”
+
+“He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it.”
+
+“Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark’s. For all you or I
+or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had,
+I should think.”
+
+“Probably. But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley. The brown suit
+hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden. We all
+know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most obvious, but in
+practice very few people have the nerve to risk it.”
+
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+
+“Then we just come back to where we were,” he complained. “Mark killed
+his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the passage;
+either in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way
+out of it. And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit.”
+
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+
+“Bad luck, Bill,” he said sympathetically. “There’s only one murder,
+after all. I’m awfully sorry about it. It was my fault for—”
+
+“Shut up, you ass. You know I didn’t mean that.”
+
+“Well, you seemed awfully disappointed.”
+
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh confessed.
+
+“It was so exciting yesterday,” he said apologetically, “and we seemed
+to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful things,
+and now—”
+
+“And now?”
+
+“Well, it’s so much more ordinary.”
+
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+
+“Ordinary!” he cried. “Ordinary! Well, I’m dashed! Ordinary! If only
+_one_ thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do something, but
+_everything_ is ridiculous.”
+
+Bill brightened up again.
+
+“Ridiculous? How?”
+
+“Every way. Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night. You can
+explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes. You can explain the
+underclothes in some absurd way, if you like—you can say that Mark
+always changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed anybody from
+Australia—but why, in that case, my dear Watson, _why_ didn’t he change
+his collar?”
+
+“His collar?” said Bill in amazement.
+
+“His collar, Watson.”
+
+“I don’t understand.”
+
+“And it’s all so ordinary,” scoffed Antony.
+
+“Sorry, Tony, I didn’t mean that. Tell me about the collar.”
+
+“Well, that’s all. There was no collar in the bag last night. Shirt,
+socks, tie—everything except a collar. Why?”
+
+“Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?” said Bill
+eagerly.
+
+“Of course. ‘Why no collar?’ I said. For some reason Cayley considered
+it necessary to hide all Mark’s clothes; not just the suit, but
+everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing, at the time
+of the murder. But he hadn’t hidden the collar. Why? Had he left it out
+by mistake? So I looked in the cupboard. It wasn’t there. Had he left
+it out on purpose? If so, why?—and where was it? Naturally I began to
+say to myself, ‘Where have I seen a collar lately? A collar all by
+itself?’ And I remembered—what, Bill?”
+
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+
+“Don’t ask me, Tony. I can’t—By Jove!” He threw up his head, “In the
+basket in the office bedroom!”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“But is that the one?”
+
+“The one that goes with the rest of the clothes? I don’t know. Where
+else can it be? But if so, why send the collar quite casually to the
+wash in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide everything
+else? Why, why, why?”
+
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+
+“Anyhow,” said Antony, getting up restlessly, “I’m certain of one
+thing. Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+The Inquest
+
+
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible
+nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate that
+afternoon, proceeded to outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would
+be called to identify the deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the
+owner of the Red House, Mark Ablett. It would be shown that he was
+something of a ne’er-do-well, who had spent most of his life in
+Australia, and that he had announced, in what might almost be called a
+threatening letter, his intention of visiting his brother that
+afternoon. There would be evidence of his arrival, of his being shown
+into the scene of the tragedy—a room in the Red House, commonly called
+“the office”—and of his brother’s entrance into that room. The jury
+would have to form their own opinion as to what happened there. But
+whatever happened, happened almost instantaneously. Within two minutes
+of Mark Ablett’s entrance, as would be shown in the evidence, a shot
+was heard, and when—perhaps five minutes later—the room was forced
+open, the dead body of Robert Ablett was found stretched upon the
+floor. As regards Mark Ablett, nobody had seen him from the moment of
+his going into the room, but evidence would be called to show that he
+had enough money on him at the time to take him to any other part of
+the country, and that a man answering to his description had been
+observed on the platform of Stanton station, apparently waiting to
+catch the 3.55 up train to London. As the jury would realize, such
+evidence of identity was not always reliable. Missing men had a way of
+being seen in a dozen different places at once. In any case, there was
+no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had disappeared.
+
+“Seems a sound man,” whispered Antony to Bill. “Doesn’t talk too much.”
+
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence—he knew the facts
+of the case so well by now—but he wondered if Inspector Birch had
+developed any new theories. If so, they would appear in the Coroner’s
+examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been coached by the
+police as to the important facts to be extracted from each witness.
+Bill was the first to be put through it.
+
+“Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?” he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over. “Did you see it at all?”
+
+“I didn’t see the actual writing. I saw the back of it. Mark was
+holding it up when he told us about his brother.”
+
+“You don’t know what was in it, then?”
+
+Bill had a sudden shock. He had read the letter only that morning. He
+knew quite well what was in it. But it wouldn’t do to admit this. And
+then, just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered: Antony
+had heard Cayley telling the Inspector.
+
+“I knew afterwards. I was told. But Mark didn’t read it out at
+breakfast.”
+
+“You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?”
+
+“Oh, yes!”
+
+“Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?”
+
+“Not frightened. Sort of bitter—and resigned. Sort of ‘Oh, Lord, here
+we are again!’”
+
+There was a titter here and there. The Coroner smiled, and tried to
+pretend that he hadn’t.
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Beverley.”
+
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and Antony
+looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+
+“He lives at the inner lodge,” whispered Bill to him.
+
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his lodge at
+a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to him. He had
+seen the body and recognized it as the man.
+
+“What did he say?”
+
+“‘Is this right for the Red House?’ or something like that, sir.”
+
+“What did you say?”
+
+“I said, ‘This is the Red House. Who do you want to see?’ He was a bit
+rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn’t know what he was doing
+there.”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“Well, sir, he said, ‘Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?’ It doesn’t sound
+much put like that, sir, but I didn’t care about the way he said it. So
+I got in front of him like, and said, ‘What do you want, eh?’ and he
+gave a sort of chuckle and said, ‘I want to see my dear brother Mark.’
+Well, then I took a closer look at him, and I see that p’raps he might
+be his brother, so I said, ‘If you’ll follow the drive, sir, you’ll
+come to the house. Of course I can’t say if Mr. Ablett’s at home.’ And
+he gave a sort of nasty laugh again, and said, ‘Fine place Mister Mark
+Ablett’s got here. Plenty of money to spend, eh?’ Well, then I had
+another look at him, sir, because gentlemen don’t talk like that, and
+if he was Mr. Ablett’s brother—but before I could make up my mind, he
+laughed and went on. That’s all I can tell you, sir.”
+
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room, nor
+did Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos
+intended to remain there until the inquest was over.
+
+“Who’s Amos talking to now?” he whispered to Bill.
+
+“Parsons. One of the gardeners. He’s at the outside lodge on the
+Stanton road. They’re all here to-day. Sort of holiday for ’em.”
+
+“I wonder if he’s giving evidence too,” thought Antony. He was. He
+followed Amos. He had been at work on the lawn in front of the house,
+and had seen Robert Ablett arrive. He didn’t hear the shot—not to
+notice. He was a little hard of hearing. He had seen a gentleman arrive
+about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+
+“Can you see him in court now?” asked the Coroner. Parsons looked round
+slowly. Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+
+“That’s him,” said Parsons, pointing.
+
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+
+“That was about five minutes afterwards?”
+
+“About that, sir.”
+
+“Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman’s arrival?”
+
+“No, sir. That is to say I didn’t see ’em.”
+
+Stevens followed. She gave her evidence much as she had given it to the
+Inspector. Nothing new was brought out by her examination. Then came
+Elsie. As the reporters scribbled down what she had overheard, they
+added in brackets “_Sensation_” for the first time that afternoon.
+
+“How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?” asked the
+Coroner.
+
+“Almost at once, sir.”
+
+“A minute?”
+
+“I couldn’t really say, sir. It was so quick.”
+
+“Were you still in the hall?”
+
+“Oh, no, sir. I was just outside Mrs. Stevens’ room. The housekeeper,
+sir.”
+
+“You didn’t think of going back to the hall to see what had happened?”
+
+“Oh, no, sir. I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, ‘Oh, what
+was that?’ frightened-like. And I said, ‘That was in the house, Mrs.
+Stevens, that was.’ Just like something going off, it was.”
+
+“Thank you,” said the Coroner.
+
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went into
+the witness-box; not “_Sensation_” this time, but an eager and, as it
+seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest. Now they were getting to grips
+with the drama.
+
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally—the lies with the same
+slow deliberation as the truth. Antony watched him intently, wondering
+what it was about him which had this odd sort of attractiveness. For
+Antony, who knew that he was lying, and lying (as he believed) not for
+Mark’s sake but his own, yet could not help sharing some of that
+general sympathy with him.
+
+“Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?” asked the Coroner.
+
+“Not to my knowledge. I think I should have known if he had been.”
+
+“You were alone with him all that morning. Did he talk about this visit
+of Robert’s at all?”
+
+“I didn’t see very much of him in the morning. I was at work in my
+room, and outside, and so on. We lunched together and he talked of it
+then a little.”
+
+“In what terms?”
+
+“Well—” he hesitated, and then went on. “I can’t think of a better word
+than ‘peevishly.’ Occasionally he said, ‘What do you think he wants?’
+or ‘Why couldn’t he have stayed where he was?’ or ‘I don’t like the
+tone of his letter. Do you think he means trouble?’ He talked rather in
+that kind of way.”
+
+“Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in England?”
+
+“I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day.”
+
+“Yes.... You didn’t hear any conversation between the brothers when
+they were in the office together?”
+
+“No. I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone in, and
+I was there all the time.”
+
+“Was the library door open?”
+
+“Oh, yes.”
+
+“Did you see or hear the last witness at all?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?”
+
+“I think so. Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose.”
+
+“Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?”
+
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+
+“Hasty-tempered, yes,” he said. “But not violent-tempered.”
+
+“Was he fairly athletic? Active and quick?”
+
+“Active and quick, yes. Not particularly strong.”
+
+“Yes.... One question more. Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?”
+
+“Yes. He always had one £100 note on him, and perhaps ten or twenty
+pounds as well.”
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Cayley.”
+
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat. “Damn it,” said Antony to
+himself, “why do I like the fellow?”
+
+“Antony Gillingham!”
+
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt. Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+
+He explained how he came to be staying at ‘The George’ at Woodham, how
+he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how he had
+walked over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just after the
+tragedy. Thinking it over afterwards he was fairly certain that he had
+heard the shot, but it had not made any impression on him at the time.
+He had come to the house from the Woodham end and consequently had seen
+nothing of Robert Ablett, who had been a few minutes in front of him.
+From this point his evidence coincided with Cayley’s.
+
+“You and the last witness reached the French windows together and found
+them shut?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“You pushed them in and came to the body. Of course you had no idea
+whose body it was?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Did Mr. Cayley say anything?”
+
+“He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he saw
+it, he said, ‘Thank God.’”
+
+Again the reporters wrote “_Sensation_.”
+
+“Did you understand what he meant by that?”
+
+“I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett. Then he
+explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with whom he
+lived—Mark.”
+
+“Yes. Did he seem upset?”
+
+“Very much so at first. Less when he found that it wasn’t Mark.”
+
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at the
+back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared sternly
+in the direction from which it came. The nervous gentleman hastily
+decided that the time had come to do up his bootlace. The Coroner put
+down his glasses and continued.
+
+“Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the drive?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Gillingham.”
+
+He was followed by Inspector Birch. The Inspector, realizing that this
+was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon him,
+produced a plan of the house and explained the situation of the
+different rooms. The plan was then handed to the jury.
+
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House at
+4.42 p.m. on the afternoon in question. He had been received by Mr.
+Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to him, and he had then
+proceeded to examine the scene of the crime. The French windows had
+been forced from outside. The door leading into the hall was locked; he
+had searched the room thoroughly and had found no trace of a key. In
+the bedroom leading out of the office he had found an open window.
+There were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and, as he
+found from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching it
+with the boots. A few yards outside the window a shrubbery began. There
+were no recent footmarks outside the window, but the ground was in a
+very hard condition owing to the absence of rain. In the shrubbery,
+however, he found several twigs on the ground, recently broken off,
+together with other evidence that some body had been forcing its way
+through. He had questioned everybody connected with the estate, and
+none of them had been into the shrubbery recently. By forcing a way
+through the shrubbery it was possible for a person to make a detour of
+the house and get to the Stanton end of the park without ever being in
+sight of the house itself.
+
+He had made inquiries about the deceased. Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble at
+home. Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from which he and
+his brother had come. Deceased and his brother had never been on good
+terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come into money had been a
+cause of great bitterness between them. It was shortly after this that
+Robert had left for Australia.
+
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station. It had been market-day at
+Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than usual.
+Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert Ablett; there had
+been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train that afternoon, the train
+by which Robert had undoubtedly come from London. A witness, however,
+would state that he noticed a man resembling Mark Ablett at the station
+at 3.53 p.m. that afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to
+town.
+
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House. He had dragged this,
+but without result....
+
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all the
+time. Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be got from
+that. He felt so close to the truth; at any moment something might give
+his brain the one little hint which it wanted. Inspector Birch was just
+pursuing the ordinary. Whatever else this case was, it was not
+ordinary. There was something uncanny about it.
+
+John Borden was giving evidence. He was on the up platform seeing a
+friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon. He had noticed a man on
+the platform with coat collar turned up and a scarf round his chin. He
+had wondered why the man should do this on such a hot day. The man
+seemed to be trying to escape observation. Directly the train came in,
+he hurried into a carriage. And so on.
+
+“There’s always a John Borden at every murder case,” said Antony to
+himself.
+
+“Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?”
+
+“Once or twice, sir.”
+
+“Was it he?”
+
+“I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar
+turned up and the scarf and all. But directly I heard of the sad
+affair, and that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden, ‘Now I
+wonder if that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?’ So then we talked
+it over and decided that I ought to come and tell Inspector Birch. It
+was just Mr. Ablett’s height, sir.”
+
+Antony went on with his thoughts....
+
+The Coroner was summing up. The jury, he said, had now heard all the
+evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that room
+between the two brothers. How had the deceased met his death? The
+medical evidence would probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett had
+died from the effects of a bullet-wound in the head. Who had fired that
+bullet? If Robert Ablett had fired it himself, no doubt they would
+bring in a verdict of suicide, but if this had been so, where was the
+revolver which had fired it, and what had become of Mark Ablett? If
+they disbelieved in this possibility of suicide, what remained?
+Accidental death, justifiable homicide, and murder. Could the deceased
+have been killed accidentally? It was possible, but then would Mark
+Ablett have run away? The evidence that he had run away from the scene
+of the crime was strong. His cousin had seen him go into the room, the
+servant Elsie Wood had heard him quarrelling with his brother in the
+room, the door had been locked from the inside, and there were signs
+that outside the open window some one had pushed his way very recently
+through the shrubbery. Who, if not Mark? They would have then to
+consider whether he would have run away if he had been guiltless of his
+brother’s death. No doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes.
+It was possible that if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had
+shot his brother, it might also be proved that he was justified in so
+doing, and that when he ran away from his brother’s corpse he had
+really nothing to fear at the hands of the Law. In this connection he
+need hardly remind the jury that they were not the final tribunal, and
+that if they found Mark Ablett guilty of murder it would not prejudice
+his trial in any way if and when he was apprehended.... The jury could
+consider their verdict.
+
+They considered it. They announced that the deceased had died as the
+result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired by his
+brother Mark Ablett.
+
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side. But Antony was gone. Across
+the room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the door together,
+and Antony was between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+
+
+The inquest had been held at the “Lamb” at Stanton; at Stanton Robert
+Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his
+friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would
+be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley
+would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at the
+back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
+weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. “GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER” it
+announced, to take place on “Wednesday, Decem.” Bill smiled to himself
+as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a loquacious postman, had been
+played by “William B. Beverl,” as the remnants of the poster still
+maintained, and he had been much less loquacious than the author had
+intended, having forgotten his words completely, but it had all been
+great fun. And then he stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun
+now at the Red House.
+
+“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said the voice of Antony behind him. “My
+old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink.”
+
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill’s arm, and smiled happily at
+him.
+
+“Why were you so keen about them?” asked Bill a little resentfully. “I
+couldn’t think where on earth you had got to.”
+
+Antony didn’t say anything. He was staring at the poster.
+
+“When did this happen?” he asked.
+
+“What?”
+
+Antony waved to the poster.
+
+“Oh, that? Last Christmas. It was rather fun.”
+
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+
+“Were you good?”
+
+“Rotten. I don’t profess to be an actor.”
+
+“Mark good?”
+
+“Oh, rather. He loves it.”
+
+“Rev. Henry Stutters—Mr. Matthew Cay,” read Antony.
+
+“Was that our friend Cayley?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Any good?”
+
+“Well, much better than I expected. He wasn’t keen, but Mark made him.”
+
+“Miss Norris wasn’t playing, I see.”
+
+“My dear Tony, she’s a professional. Of course she wasn’t.”
+
+Antony laughed again.
+
+“A great success, was it?”
+
+“Oh, rather!”
+
+“I’m a fool, and a damned fool,” Antony announced solemnly. “And a
+damned fool,” he said again under his breath, as he led Bill away from
+the poster, and out of the yard into the road. “And a damned fool. Even
+now—” He broke off and then asked suddenly, “Did Mark ever have much
+trouble with his teeth?”
+
+“He went to his dentist a good deal. But what on earth—”
+
+Antony laughed a third time.
+
+“What luck!” he chuckled. “But how do you know?”
+
+“We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me. Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street.”
+
+“Cartwright in Wimpole Street,” repeated Antony thoughtfully. “Yes, I
+can remember that. Cartwright in Wimpole Street. Did Cayley go to him
+too, by any chance?”
+
+“I expect so. Oh, yes, I know he did. But what on earth—”
+
+“What was Mark’s general health like? Did he see a doctor much?”
+
+“Hardly at all, I should think. He did a lot of early morning exercises
+which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at breakfast. They
+didn’t do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty fit. Tony, I wish
+you’d—”
+
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+
+“One last question,” he said. “Was Mark fond of swimming?”
+
+“No, he hated it. I don’t believe he _could_ swim. Tony, are you mad,
+or am I? Or is this a new game?”
+
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+
+“Dear old Bill,” he said. “It’s a game. What a game! And the answer is
+Cartwright in Wimpole Street.”
+
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to Woodham.
+Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to talk, but Antony had
+only grunted in reply. He was just going to make another attempt, when
+Antony came to a sudden stop and turned to him anxiously.
+
+“I wonder if you’d do something for me,” he said, looking at him with
+some doubt.
+
+“What sort of thing?”
+
+“Well, it’s really dashed important. It’s just the one thing I want
+now.”
+
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+
+“I say, have you really found it all out?”
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+“At least, I’m very nearly there, Bill. There’s just this one thing I
+want now. It means your going back to Stanton. Well, we haven’t come
+far; it won’t take you long. Do you mind?”
+
+“My dear Holmes, I am at your service.”
+
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+
+“Is there another inn at Stanton—fairly close to the station?”
+
+“The ‘Plough and Horses’—just at the corner where the road goes up to
+the station—is that the one you mean?”
+
+“That would be the one. I suppose you could do with a drink, couldn’t
+you?”
+
+“Rather!” said Bill, with a grin.
+
+“Good. Then have one at the ‘Plough and Horses.’ Have two, if you like,
+and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you. I want
+you to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night.”
+
+“Robert?” said Bill eagerly.
+
+“I didn’t say Robert,” said Antony, smiling. “I just want you to find
+out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night. A stranger.
+If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without letting the
+landlord know that you are interested—”
+
+“Leave it to me,” broke in Bill. “I know just what you want.”
+
+“Don’t assume that it was Robert—or anybody else. Let _them_ describe
+the man to you. Don’t influence them unconsciously by suggesting that
+he was short or tall, or anything of that sort. Just get them talking.
+If it’s the landlord, you’d better stand him a drink or two.”
+
+“Right you are,” said Bill confidently. “Where do I meet you again?”
+
+“Probably at ‘The George.’ If you get there before me, you can order
+dinner for eight o’clock. Anyhow we’ll meet at eight, if not before.”
+
+“Good.” He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm. Then
+he looked round slowly, as if in search of something. Suddenly he saw
+what he wanted. Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off to the
+left, and there was a gate a little way up on the right-hand side of
+it. Antony walked to the gate, filling his pipe as he went. Then he lit
+his pipe, sat on the gate, and took his head in his hands.
+
+“Now then,” he said to himself, “let’s begin at the beginning.”
+
+It was nearly eight o’clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at ‘The George,’ to find
+Antony, cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting for
+him.
+
+“Is dinner ready?” were Bill’s first words.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then I’ll just have a wash. Lord, I’m tired.”
+
+“I never ought to have asked you,” said Antony penitently.
+
+“That’s all right. I shan’t be a moment.” Half-way up the stairs he
+turned round and asked, “Am I in your room?”
+
+“Yes. Do you know the way?”
+
+“Yes. Start carving, will you? And order lots of beer.” He disappeared
+round the top of the staircase. Antony went slowly in.
+
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able to
+spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account of his
+adventures. The landlord of the “Plough and Horses” had been sticky,
+decidedly sticky—Bill had been unable at first to get anything out of
+him. But Bill had been tactful; lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+
+“He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and
+so on, and how there’d been an inquest in his wife’s family once, which
+he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, ‘Pretty busy, I
+suppose, just now, what?’ and then he’d say, ‘Middlin’,’ and go on
+again about Susan—that was the one that had the inquest—he talked about
+it as if it were a disease—and then I’d try again, and say, ‘Slack
+times, I expect, just now, eh?’ and he’d say ‘Middlin’’ again, and then
+it was time to offer him another drink, and I didn’t seem to be getting
+much nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John
+Borden—he was the man who said he’d seen Mark at the station. Well, he
+knew all about Borden, and after he’d told me all about Borden’s wife’s
+family, and how one of them had been burnt to death—after you with the
+beer; thanks—well, then I said carelessly that it must be very hard to
+remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify him
+afterwards, and he agreed that it would be ‘middlin’ hard,’ and then—”
+
+“Give me three guesses,” interrupted Antony. “You asked him if he
+remembered everybody who came to his inn?”
+
+“That’s it. Bright, wasn’t it?”
+
+“Brilliant. And what was the result?”
+
+“The result was a woman.”
+
+“A woman?” said Antony eagerly.
+
+“A woman,” said Bill impressively. “Of course I thought it was going to
+be Robert—so did you, didn’t you?—but it wasn’t. It was a woman. Came
+quite late on Monday night in a car—driving herself—went off early next
+morning.”
+
+“Did he describe her?”
+
+“Yes. She was middlin’. Middlin’ tall, middlin’ age, middlin’ colour,
+and so on. Doesn’t help much, does it? But still—a woman. Does that
+upset your theory?”
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+“No, Bill, not at all,” he said.
+
+“You knew all the time? At least, you guessed?”
+
+“Wait till to-morrow. I’ll tell you everything to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow!” said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+“Well, I’ll tell you one thing to-night, if you’ll promise not to ask
+any more questions. But you probably know it already.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother.”
+
+“And Cayley did?”
+
+“That’s another question, Bill. However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn’t, either.”
+
+“Then who on earth—”
+
+“Have some more beer,” said Antony with a smile. And Bill had to be
+content with that.
+
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired. Bill
+slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering. What was
+happening at the Red House now? Perhaps he would hear in the morning;
+perhaps he would get a letter. He went over the whole story again from
+the beginning—was there any possibility of a mistake? What would the
+police do? Would they ever find out? Ought he to have told them? Well,
+let them find out; it was their job. Surely he couldn’t have made a
+mistake this time. No good wondering now; he would know definitely in
+the morning.
+
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+Cayley’s Apology
+
+
+“My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+
+
+“I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which
+you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in
+this case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why,
+in these circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your
+intentions I do not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly
+out of sympathy with me. But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate
+you will want to know—and I want you to know—the exact manner in which
+Ablett met his death and the reasons which made that death necessary.
+If the police have to be told anything, I would rather that they too
+knew the whole story. They, and even you, may call it murder, but by
+that time I shall be out of the way. Let them call it what they like.
+
+“I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago,
+when I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five. His
+whole life was make-believe, and just now he was pretending to be a
+philanthropist. He sat in our little drawing-room, flicking his gloves
+against the back of his left hand, and my mother, good soul, thought
+what a noble young gentleman he was, and Philip and I, hastily washed
+and crammed into collars, stood in front of him, nudging each other and
+kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our hearts for having
+interrupted our game. He had decided to adopt one of us, kind Cousin
+Mark. Heaven knows why he chose me. Philip was eleven; two years longer
+to wait. Perhaps that was why.
+
+“Well, Mark educated me. I went to a public school and to Cambridge,
+and I became his secretary. Well, much more than his secretary as your
+friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land agent, his financial
+adviser, his courier, his—but this most of all—his audience. Mark could
+never live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him. I
+think in his heart he hoped I should be his Boswell. He told me one day
+that he had made me his literary executor—poor devil. And he used to
+write me the absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters
+which I read once and then tore up. The futility of the man!
+
+“It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been
+hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and
+discovered there that there was not much fun to be got in this world on
+two pounds a week. I had a frantic letter from him one day, saying that
+he must have a hundred at once, or he would be ruined, and I went to
+Mark for the money. Only to borrow it, you understand; he gave me a
+good salary and I could have paid it back in three months. But no. He
+saw nothing for himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no admiration.
+Philip’s gratitude would be to me, not to him. I begged, I threatened,
+we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It killed my
+mother—he was always her favourite—but Mark, as usual, got his
+satisfaction out of it. He preened himself on his judgment of character
+in having chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+
+“Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said to
+him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his
+accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each
+other, from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him see
+it, I was his bitterest enemy. If that had been all, I wonder if I
+should have killed him? To live on terms of intimate friendship with a
+man whom you hate is dangerous work for your friend. Because of his
+belief in me as his admiring and grateful protégé and his belief in
+himself as my benefactor, he was now utterly in my power. I could take
+my time and choose my opportunity. Perhaps I should not have killed
+him, but I had sworn to have my revenge—and there he was, poor vain
+fool, at my mercy. I was in no hurry.
+
+“Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge was
+being taken out of my hands. Mark began to drink. Could I have stopped
+him? I don’t think so, but to my immense surprise I found myself trying
+to. Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason; or did I reason it
+out and tell myself that, if he drank himself to death, I should lose
+my revenge? Upon my word, I cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive,
+I did genuinely want to stop it. Drinking is such a beastly thing,
+anyhow.
+
+“I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret. Yes, I kept him outwardly decent;
+and perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim
+in good condition for his own ends. I used to gloat over Mark, thinking
+how utterly he was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially, morally,
+whatever way would give me most satisfaction. I had but to take my hand
+away from him and he sank. But again I was in no hurry.
+
+“Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up with his
+own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the truest and
+purest woman on this earth. You have seen her, Mr. Gillingham, but you
+never knew Mark Ablett. Even if he had not been a drunkard, there was
+no chance for her of happiness with him. I had known him for many
+years, but never once had I seen him moved by any generous emotion. To
+have lived with that shrivelled little soul would have been hell for
+her; and a thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.
+
+“So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her, for
+her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin. I would
+have shot him openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but I had no
+mind to sacrifice myself needlessly. He was in my power; I could
+persuade him to almost anything by flattery; surely it would not be
+difficult to give his death the appearance of an accident.
+
+“I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I made
+and rejected. For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate boating
+accident in the pond—Mark, a very indifferent swimmer, myself almost
+exhausted in a gallant attempt to hold him up. And then he himself gave
+me the idea, he and Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in my
+hands; without risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not
+discovered me.
+
+“We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain, pompous
+and absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was irritated
+by it. After dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost and
+frightening him. I thought it my duty to warn her that Mark took any
+joke against himself badly, but she was determined to do it. I gave way
+reluctantly. Reluctantly, also, I told her the secret of the passage.
+(There is an underground passage from the library to the bowling-green.
+You should exercise your ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to
+discover it. Mark came upon it by accident a year ago. It was a godsend
+to him; he could drink there in greater secrecy. But he had to tell me
+about it. He wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+
+“I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that
+Mark should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could
+never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly,
+but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective appearance,
+and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness which I
+required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional actress. I
+need not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling
+than a boyish desire to bring off a good joke—a joke directed as much
+against the others as against Mark.
+
+“He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was
+to make a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he
+not a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next
+morning. As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it; but never
+again would she come to the Red House—he was absolutely determined
+about that. I was to make a special note of it.
+
+“I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved
+very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he
+disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again—that was
+obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me
+indignantly.
+
+“Is there a joke?” he said coldly.
+
+“I laughed gently again.
+
+“‘I was just thinking,’ I said, ‘that it would be rather amusing if
+you—well, had your revenge.”
+
+“‘My revenge? How do you mean?’
+
+“‘Well, paid her back in her own coin.’
+
+“‘Do you mean try and frighten her?’
+
+“‘No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a fool
+in front of the others.’ I laughed to myself again. ‘Serve her jolly
+well right.’
+
+“He jumped up excitedly.
+
+“‘By Jove, Cay!’ he cried. ‘If I could! How? You must think of a way.’
+
+“I don’t know if Beverley has told you about Mark’s acting. He was an
+amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an
+actor he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some
+ability for the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was
+playing to an admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small
+part he would have been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading
+part, he deserved all that the local papers had ever said about him.
+And so the idea of giving us a private performance, directed against a
+professional actress who had made fun of him, appealed equally to his
+vanity and his desire for retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his
+wonderful acting could make Ruth Norris look a fool in front of the
+others, could take her in, and then join in the laugh at her
+afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy revenge!
+
+“It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
+Ablett.
+
+“‘How, Cay, how?’ he said eagerly.
+
+“‘Well, I haven’t really thought it out,’ I protested. ‘It was just an
+idea.’
+
+“He began to think it out for himself.
+
+“‘I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her—but I suppose
+she knows them all. What about an interviewer?’
+
+“‘It’s going to be difficult,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘You’ve got rather
+a characteristic face, you know. And your beard—’
+
+“‘I’d shave it off,’ he snapped.
+
+“‘My dear Mark!’
+
+“He looked away, and mumbled, ‘I’ve been thinking of taking it off,
+anyhow. And besides, if I’m going to do the thing, I’m going to do it
+properly.’
+
+“‘Yes, you always were an artist,’ I said, looking at him admiringly.
+
+“He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
+knew that I had him.
+
+“‘All the same,’ I went on, ‘even without your beard and moustache you
+might be recognizable. Unless, of course—’ I broke off.
+
+“‘Unless what?’
+
+“‘You pretend to be Robert.’ I began to laugh to myself again. ‘By
+Jove!’ I said, ‘that’s not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the
+wastrel brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow
+money from her, and that sort of thing.’
+
+“He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+
+“‘Robert,’ he said. ‘Yes. How shall we work it?’
+
+“There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you and
+the Inspector both discovered. And he was a wastrel and he went to
+Australia. But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday afternoon. He
+couldn’t have, because he died (unlamented) three years ago. But there
+was nobody who knew this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only
+one of the family left, his sister having died last year. Though I
+doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was alive or dead. He was not
+talked about.
+
+“For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans. You understand
+by now that our aims were not identical. Mark’s endeavour was that his
+deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine that it should
+go to the grave with him. He had only to deceive Miss Norris and the
+other guests; I had to deceive the world. When he was dressed up as
+Robert, I was going to kill him. Robert would then be dead, Mark (of
+course) missing. What could anybody think but that Mark had killed
+Robert? But you see how important it was for Mark to enter fully into
+his latest (and last) impersonation. Half-measures would be fatal.
+
+“You will say that it was impossible to do the thing thoroughly enough.
+I answer again that you never knew Mark. He was being what he wished
+most to be—an artist. No Othello ever blacked himself all over with
+such enthusiasm as did Mark. His beard was going anyhow—possible a
+chance remark of Miss Norbury’s helped here. She did not like beards.
+But it was important for me that the dead man’s hands should not be the
+hands of a manicured gentleman. Five minutes playing upon the vanity of
+the artist settled his hands. He let the nails grow and then cut them
+raggedly. ‘Miss Norris would notice your hands at once,’ I had said.
+‘Besides, as an artist—’
+
+“So with his underclothes. It was hardly necessary to warn him that his
+pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he had
+already decided upon Robertian pants. I bought them, and other things,
+in London for him. Even if I had not cut out all trace of the maker’s
+name, he would instinctively have done it. As an Australian and an
+artist, he could not have an East London address on his underclothes.
+Yes, we were doing the thing thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I
+as a—well, you may say murderer, if you like. I shall not mind now.
+
+“Our plans were settled. I went to London on the Monday and wrote him a
+letter from Robert. (The artistic touch again.) I also bought a
+revolver. On the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival of Robert at
+the breakfast-table. Robert was now alive—we had six witnesses to prove
+it; six witnesses who knew that he was coming that afternoon. Our
+private plan was that Robert should present himself at three o’clock,
+in readiness for the return of the golfing-party shortly afterwards.
+The maid would go to look for Mark, and having failed to find him, come
+back to the office to find me entertaining Robert in Mark’s absence. I
+would explain that Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would myself
+introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table. Mark’s absence would
+not excite any comment, for it would be generally felt—indeed Robert
+would suggest it—that he had been afraid of meeting his brother. Then
+Robert would make himself amusingly offensive to the guests,
+particularly, of course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke
+had gone far enough.
+
+“That was our private plan. Perhaps I should say that it was Mark’s
+private plan. My own was different.
+
+“The announcement at breakfast went well. After the golfing-party had
+gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our arrangements.
+What I was chiefly concerned about was to establish as completely as
+possible the identity of Robert. For this reason I suggested to Mark
+that, when dressed, he should go out by the secret passage to the
+bowling-green, and come back by the drive, taking care to enter into
+conversation with the lodge-keeper. In this way I would have two more
+witnesses of Robert’s arrival—first the lodge-keeper, and secondly one
+of the gardeners whom I would have working on the front lawn. Mark, of
+course, was willing enough. He could practise his Australian accent on
+the lodge-keeper. It was really amusing to see how readily he fell into
+every suggestion which I made. Never was a killing more carefully
+planned by its victim.
+
+“He changed into Robert’s clothes in the office bedroom. This was the
+safest way—for both of us. When he was ready, he called me in, and I
+inspected him. It was extraordinary how well he looked the part. I
+suppose that the signs of his dissipation had already marked themselves
+on his face, but had been concealed hitherto by his moustache and
+beard; for now that he was clean-shaven they lay open to the world from
+which we had so carefully hidden them, and he was indeed the wastrel
+which he was pretending to be.
+
+“‘By Jove, you’re wonderful,’ I said.
+
+“He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+
+“‘Wonderful,’ I said to myself again. ‘Nobody could possibly guess.’
+
+“I peered into the hall. It was empty. We hurried across to the
+library; he got into the passage and made off. I went back to the
+bedroom, collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in a bundle
+and returned with them to the passage. Then I sat down in the hall and
+waited.
+
+“You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid. As soon as she was on her
+way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the office. My hand
+was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the revolver.
+
+“He began at once in his character of Robert—some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private performance
+for my edification. Then in his natural voice, gloating over his
+well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, ‘It’s my turn
+now. You wait.’ It was this which Elsie heard. She had no business to
+be there and she might have ruined everything, but as it turned out it
+was the luckiest thing which could have happened. For it was the one
+piece of evidence which I wanted; evidence, other than my own, that
+Mark and Robert were in the room together.
+
+“I said nothing. I was not going to take the risk of being heard to
+speak in that room. I just smiled at the poor little fool, and took out
+my revolver, and shot him. Then I went back into the library and
+waited—just as I said in my evidence.
+
+“Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden
+appearance gave me? Can you imagine the feelings of a ‘murderer’ who
+has (as he thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then
+confronted suddenly with an utterly new problem? What difference would
+your coming make? I didn’t know. Perhaps none; perhaps all. And I had
+forgotten to open the window!
+
+“I don’t know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a clever
+one. Perhaps not. But if I do deserve any praise in the matter, I think
+I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together in the face of the
+unexpected catastrophe of your arrival. Yes, I got a window open, Mr.
+Gillingham, under your very nose; the right window too, you were kind
+enough to say. And the keys—yes, that was clever of you, but I think I
+was cleverer. I deceived you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I learnt
+when I took the liberty of listening to a conversation on the
+bowling-green between you and your friend Beverley. Where was I? Ah,
+you must have a look for that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+“But what am I saying? Did I deceive you at all? You have found out the
+secret—that Robert was Mark—and that is all that matters. How have you
+found out? I shall never know now. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps you
+have been deceiving me all the time. Perhaps you knew about the keys,
+about the window, even about the secret passage. You are a clever man,
+Mr. Gillingham.
+
+“I had Mark’s clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris knew
+it. That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss Norris had
+to know it. So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector having obligingly
+dragged it for me first. A couple of keys joined them, but I kept the
+revolver. Fortunate, wasn’t it, Mr. Gillingham?
+
+“I don’t think that there is any more to tell you. This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There was a time
+when I hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not at the Red
+House, not alone. Perhaps it was never more than an idle day-dream, for
+I am no more worthy of her than Mark was. But I could have made her
+happy, Mr. Gillingham. God, how I would have worked to make her happy!
+But now that is impossible. To offer her the hand of a murderer would
+be as bad as to offer her the hand of a drunkard. And Mark died for
+that. I saw her this morning. She was very sweet. It is a difficult
+world to understand.
+
+“Well, well, we are all gone now—the Abletts and the Cayleys. I wonder
+what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all. Perhaps it is as well
+that we have died out. Not that there was anything wrong with
+Sarah—except her temper. And she had the Ablett nose—you can’t do much
+with that. I’m glad she left no children.
+
+“Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham. I’m sorry that your stay with us was not of
+a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in which I was
+placed. Don’t let Bill think too badly of me. He is a good fellow; look
+after him. He will be surprised. The young are always surprised. And
+thank you for letting me end my own way. I expect you did sympathize a
+little, you know. We might have been friends in another world—you and
+I, and I and she. Tell her what you like. Everything or nothing. You
+will know what is best. Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+“MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+
+
+“I am lonely to-night without Mark. That’s funny, isn’t it?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+“Good Lord!” said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+
+“I thought you’d say that,” murmured Antony.
+
+“Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?”
+
+“I guessed some of it. I didn’t quite know all of it, of course.”
+
+“Good Lord!” said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a moment
+he was looking up again. “What did you write to him? Was that last
+night? After I’d gone into Stanton?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What did you say? That you’d discovered that Mark was Robert?”
+
+“Yes. At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph to
+Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to—”
+
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence. “Yes, now what was
+all that about? You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a sudden.
+We’d been doing the thing together all the time, and you’d been telling
+me everything, and then suddenly you become very mysterious and private
+and talk enigmatically—is that the word?—about dentists and swimming
+and the ‘Plough and Horses,’ and—well, what was it all about? You
+simply vanished out of sight; I didn’t know what on earth we were
+talking about.”
+
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+
+“Sorry, Bill. I felt like that suddenly. Just for the last half-hour;
+just to end up with. I’ll tell you everything now. Not that there’s
+anything to tell, really. It seems so easy when you know it—so obvious.
+About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street. Of course he was just to
+identify the body.”
+
+“But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?”
+
+“Who could do it better? Could _you_ have done it? How could you? You’d
+never gone bathing with Mark; you’d never seen him stripped. He didn’t
+swim. Could his doctor do it? Not unless he’d had some particular
+operation, and perhaps not then. But his dentist could—at any time,
+always—if he had been to his dentist fairly often. Hence Mr. Cartwright
+of Wimpole Street.”
+
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+
+“I see. And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright to
+identify the body?”
+
+“Yes. And then of course it was all up for him. Once we knew that
+Robert was Mark we knew everything.”
+
+“How _did_ you know?”
+
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+
+“I’m not sure that I can say, Bill. You know those problems in Algebra
+where you say, ‘Let _x_ be the answer,’ and then you work it out and
+find what _x_ is. Well, that’s one way; and another way, which they
+never give you any marks for at school, is to guess the answer. Pretend
+the answer is 4—well, will that satisfy the conditions of the problem?
+No. Then try 6; and if 6 doesn’t either, then what about 5?—and so on.
+Well, the Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had guessed their
+answer, and it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn’t really fit;
+there were several conditions in the problem which it didn’t fit at
+all. So we knew that their answer was wrong, and we had to think of
+another—an answer which explained all the things which were puzzling
+us. Well, I happened to guess the right one. Got a match?”
+
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+
+“Yes, but that doesn’t quite do, old boy. Something must have put you
+on to it suddenly. By the way, I’ll have my matches back, if you don’t
+mind.”
+
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+
+“Sorry.... Well then, let’s see if I can go through my own mind again,
+and tell you how I guessed it. First of all, the clothes.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I didn’t
+quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley’s position the
+smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For some
+reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the
+clothes which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the
+clothes, the inside ones as well as the outside ones. I didn’t know
+why, but I did feel certain that, in that case, the absence of the
+collar was unintentional. In collecting the clothes he had overlooked
+the collar. Why?”
+
+“It was the one in the linen-basket?”
+
+“Yes. It seemed probable. Why had Cayley put it there? The obvious
+answer was that he hadn’t. Mark had put it there. I remembered what you
+told me about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and so on,
+and I felt that he was just the sort of man who would never wear the
+same collar twice.” He paused, and then asked, “Is that right, do you
+think?”
+
+“Absolutely,” said Bill with conviction.
+
+“Well, I guessed it was. So then I began to see an x which would fit
+just this part of the problem—the clothes part. I saw Mark changing his
+clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar in the
+linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar he had ever
+taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a chair in the
+ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the clothes
+afterwards—all the visible clothes—and not realizing that the collar
+wasn’t there.”
+
+“Go on,” said Bill eagerly.
+
+“Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation of
+it. Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom? The only
+answer was that the fact of his changing had to be kept secret. When
+did he change? The only possible time was between lunch (when he would
+be seen by the servants) and the moment of Robert’s arrival. And when
+did Cayley collect the clothes in a bundle? Again, the only answer was
+‘Before Robert’s arrival.’ So another x was wanted—to fit those three
+conditions.”
+
+“And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?”
+
+“Yes. Well now, it couldn’t be intended on the strength of that letter,
+unless there was very much more behind the letter than we knew. Nor was
+it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation
+than the changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing
+was too childish. Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the
+way to announce his existence to you all—even, at the cost of some
+trouble, to Mrs. Norbury? What did it all mean? I didn’t know. But I
+began to feel now that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a
+plot of Cayley’s against Mark—either to get him to kill his brother, or
+to get his brother to kill him—and that for some inexplicable reason
+Mark seemed to be lending himself to the plot.” He was silent for a
+little, and then said, almost to himself, “I had seen the empty brandy
+bottles in that cupboard.”
+
+“You never said anything about them,” complained Bill.
+
+“I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you
+remember. They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel
+about it.... Poor devil!”
+
+“Go on,” said Bill.
+
+“Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
+you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the
+second lodge and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons.
+That made it more curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his
+way to speak to him; had called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that
+his wife was out in their little garden at the first lodge all the
+afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never come past it. He also
+told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn that
+afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
+passage—the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job
+between Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark
+knowing? Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?”
+
+“When was this?” interrupted Bill. “Just after the inquest—after you’d
+seen Amos and Parsons, of course?”
+
+“Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I’d got back to
+the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly?
+Disguise? But then what about his face? That was much more important
+than clothes. His face, his beard—he’d have to shave off his beard—and
+then—oh, idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark
+made-up, Mark disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert....
+Matches, please.”
+
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
+pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into
+the other’s pocket.
+
+“Yes,” said Bill thoughtfully. “Yes.... But wait a moment. What about
+the ‘Plough and Horses’?” Antony looked comically at him.
+
+“You’ll never forgive me, Bill,” he said. “You’ll never come
+clue-hunting with me again.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+Antony sighed.
+
+“It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
+alone. I’d guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it—to test it every
+way, by everything we’d discovered. I simply _had_ to be alone just
+then. So—” he smiled and added, “Well, I knew you wanted a drink.”
+
+“You _are_ a devil,” said Bill, staring at him. “And your interest when
+I told you that a woman had been staying there—”
+
+“Well, it was only polite to be interested when you’d taken so much
+trouble.”
+
+“You brute! You—you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
+matches. Well, go on.”
+
+“That’s all. My _x_ fitted.”
+
+“Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?”
+
+“Well, not quite. I didn’t realize that Cayley had worked for it from
+the beginning—had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
+he’d just seized the opportunity.”
+
+Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
+slowly, “Has Cayley shot himself?”
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Poor devil,” said Bill. “It was decent of you to give him a chance.
+I’m glad you did.”
+
+“I couldn’t help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know.”
+
+“He’s a clever devil. If you hadn’t turned up just when you did, he
+would never have been found out.”
+
+“I wonder. It was ingenious, but it’s often the ingenious thing which
+gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley’s point of view was that,
+though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
+Well, that doesn’t often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
+discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not—but an
+amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of _how_ he killed
+Mark, but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he
+_had_ killed him.”
+
+“Yes, there’s something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did
+Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?”
+
+“That’s puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just doing
+the Othello business—painting himself black all over. I mean he may
+have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to
+believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he
+felt that, having told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss
+Norbury, in case she met one of you; in which case, if you mentioned
+the approaching arrival of Robert, she might say, ‘Oh, I’m certain he
+has no brother; he would have told me if he had,’ and so spoil his
+joke. Possibly, too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted
+as many people as possible to know about Robert.”
+
+“Are you going to tell the police?”
+
+“Yes, I suppose they’ll have to know. Cayley may have left another
+confession. I hope he won’t give me away; you see, I’ve been a sort of
+accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss Norbury.”
+
+“I asked,” explained Bill, “because I was wondering what I should say
+to—to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she’s bound to ask.”
+
+“Perhaps you won’t see her again for a long, long time,” said Antony
+sadly.
+
+“As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow.”
+
+“Well, you had better tell her. You’re obviously longing to. Only don’t
+let her say anything for a day or two. I’ll write to you.”
+
+“Righto!”
+
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+
+“The Barringtons,” he said. “Large party?”
+
+“Fairly, I think.”
+
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+
+“Yes. Well, if any of ’em _should_ happen to be murdered, you might
+send for me. I’m just getting into the swing of it.”
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 1872-0.txt or 1872-0.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1872/
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
+be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
+law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
+so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
+States without permission and without paying copyright
+royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
+of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
+and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
+specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
+eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
+for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
+performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
+away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
+not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
+trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
+
+START: FULL LICENSE
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
+Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+
+1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
+destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
+possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
+Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
+by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
+person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
+1.E.8.
+
+1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
+agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
+Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
+of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
+works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
+States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
+United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
+claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
+displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
+all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
+that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
+free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
+works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
+Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
+comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
+same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
+you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
+in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
+check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
+agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
+distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
+other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
+representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
+country outside the United States.
+
+1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
+on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
+  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
+  United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
+  are located before using this ebook.
+
+1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
+derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
+contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
+copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
+the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
+redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
+either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
+obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
+additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
+beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
+any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
+to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
+other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
+version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
+(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
+to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
+of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
+Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
+full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+provided that
+
+* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
+  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+  Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
+  works.
+
+* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+  receipt of the work.
+
+* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
+Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
+Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
+contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
+or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
+other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
+cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
+with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
+with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
+lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
+or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
+opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
+the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
+without further opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
+OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
+damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
+violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
+agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
+limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
+unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
+remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
+accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
+production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
+including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
+the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
+or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
+additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
+Defect you cause.
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
+computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
+exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
+from people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
+generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
+Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
+www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
+U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
+mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
+volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
+locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
+Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
+date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
+official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
+state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
+donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
+freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
+distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
+volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
+the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
+necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
+edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
+facility: www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
diff --git a/1872-0.zip b/1872-0.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..452aadc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872-0.zip
diff --git a/1872-h.zip b/1872-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f39b4dd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872-h.zip
diff --git a/1872-h/1872-h.htm b/1872-h/1872-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a1eff72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872-h/1872-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,13533 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+<title>The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne</title>
+<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
+<style type="text/css">
+
+body { margin-left: 20%;
+       margin-right: 20%;
+       text-align: justify; }
+
+h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight:
+normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;}
+
+h1 {font-size: 300%;
+    margin-top: 0.6em;
+    margin-bottom: 0.6em;
+    letter-spacing: 0.12em;
+    word-spacing: 0.2em;
+    text-indent: 0em;}
+h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;}
+h3 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em;}
+h4 {font-size: 120%;}
+h5 {font-size: 110%;}
+
+hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;}
+
+div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;}
+
+p {text-indent: 1em;
+   margin-top: 0.25em;
+   margin-bottom: 0.25em; }
+
+.p2 {margin-top: 2em;}
+
+p.letter {text-indent: 0%;
+          margin-left: 10%;
+          margin-right: 10%;
+          margin-top: 1em;
+          margin-bottom: 1em; }
+
+p.center  {text-align: center;
+           text-indent: 0em;
+           margin-top: 1em;
+           margin-bottom: 1em; }
+
+p.right {text-align: right;
+         margin-right: 10%;
+         margin-top: 1em;
+         margin-bottom: 1em; }
+
+div.fig { display:block;
+          margin:0 auto;
+          text-align:center;
+          margin-top: 1em;
+          margin-bottom: 1em;}
+
+a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none}
+a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none}
+a:hover {color:red}
+
+</style>
+
+</head>
+
+<body>
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1872]
+Last updated: December 31, 2019
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:55%;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover " /><br/><br/>
+</div>
+
+<h1>The Red House Mystery</h1>
+
+<h2>by A. A. Milne</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center">
+TO JOHN VINE MILNE
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+My dear Father,<br/>
+<br/>
+Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective stories, and
+feel that there are not enough of them. So, after all that you have done for
+me, the least that I can do for you is to write you one. Here it is: with more
+gratitude and affection than I can well put down here.<br/>
+<br/>
+A.A.M.
+</p>
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. &ldquo;Do You Follow Me, Watson?&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. Cayley&rsquo;s Apology</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/>
+Mrs. Stevens is Frightened</h2>
+
+<p>
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta.
+There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of
+pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came the whir of a
+mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds; making ease the
+sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to the wants of
+others have a moment or two for themselves. In the housekeeper&rsquo;s room
+Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed her best hat, and talked
+idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr. Mark Ablett&rsquo;s bachelor
+home.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For Joe?&rdquo; said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey
+nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it, and
+said, &ldquo;He likes a bit of pink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t say I mind a bit of pink myself,&rdquo; said her aunt.
+&ldquo;Joe Turner isn&rsquo;t the only one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t everybody&rsquo;s colour,&rdquo; said Audrey, holding the
+hat out at arm&rsquo;s length, and regarding it thoughtfully. &ldquo;Stylish,
+isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;ll suit <i>you</i> all right, and it would have suited me
+at your age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other
+people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn&rsquo;t. If
+I&rsquo;m fifty-five, I&rsquo;m fifty-five&mdash;that&rsquo;s what <i>I</i>
+say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifty-eight, isn&rsquo;t it, auntie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was just giving that as an example,&rdquo; said Mrs. Stevens with
+great dignity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails critically
+for a moment, and then began to sew.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Funny thing that about Mr. Mark&rsquo;s brother. Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years.&rdquo; She gave a self-conscious laugh and went on,
+&ldquo;Wonder what I should do if I didn&rsquo;t see Joe for fifteen
+years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I told you all this morning,&rdquo; said her aunt, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+been here five years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before
+everybody if I was going to die to-morrow. There&rsquo;s been no brother here
+while I&rsquo;ve been here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him at
+breakfast this morning. I didn&rsquo;t hear what went before, naturally, but
+they was all talking about the brother when I went in&mdash;now what was it I
+went in for&mdash;hot milk, was it, or toast?&mdash;well, they was all talking,
+and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says&mdash;you know his
+way&mdash;&lsquo;Stevens,&rsquo; he says, &lsquo;my brother is coming to see me
+this afternoon; I&rsquo;m expecting him about three,&rsquo; he says.
+&lsquo;Show him into the office,&rsquo; he says, just like that. &lsquo;Yes,
+sir,&rsquo; I says quite quietly, but I was never so surprised in my life, not
+knowing he had a brother. &lsquo;My brother from Australia,&rsquo; he
+says&mdash;there, I&rsquo;d forgotten that. From Australia.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he may have been in Australia,&rdquo; said Mrs. Stevens,
+judicially; &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t say for that, not knowing the country; but
+what I do say is he&rsquo;s never been here. Not while I&rsquo;ve been here,
+and that&rsquo;s five years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but, auntie, he hasn&rsquo;t been here for fifteen years. I heard
+Mr. Mark telling Mr. Cayley. &lsquo;Fifteen years,&rsquo; he says. Mr. Cayley
+having arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him, I
+heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn&rsquo;t know when he was last in
+England&mdash;see? So that&rsquo;s why he arst Mr. Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only
+speak for what I know, and that&rsquo;s five years Whitsuntide. I can take my
+oath he&rsquo;s not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if
+he&rsquo;s been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he&rsquo;s had his
+reasons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What reasons?&rdquo; said Audrey lightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since
+your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey&mdash;when a gentleman goes to
+Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen years, as
+Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he has his reasons. And
+a respectably brought-up girl doesn&rsquo;t ask what reasons.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Got into trouble, I suppose,&rdquo; said Audrey carelessly. &ldquo;They
+were saying at breakfast he&rsquo;d been a wild one. Debts. I&rsquo;m glad Joe
+isn&rsquo;t like that. He&rsquo;s got fifteen pounds in the post-office
+savings&rsquo; bank. Did I tell you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The ringing
+of a bell brought Audrey to her feet&mdash;no longer Audrey, but now Stevens.
+She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There, that&rsquo;s the front door,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+him. &lsquo;Show him into the office,&rsquo; said Mr. Mark. I suppose he
+doesn&rsquo;t want the other ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well,
+they&rsquo;re all out at their golf, anyhow&mdash;Wonder if he&rsquo;s going to
+stay&mdash;P&rsquo;raps he&rsquo;s brought back a lot of gold from
+Australia&mdash;I might hear something about Australia, because if
+<i>anybody</i> can get gold there, then I don&rsquo;t say but what Joe and
+I&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, now, get on, Audrey.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just going, darling.&rdquo; She went out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the open door
+of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of which even the mere
+sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed, oak-beamed place, with cream-washed
+walls and diamond-paned windows, blue-curtained. On the right and left were
+doors leading into other living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you
+came in were windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open
+windows to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went
+up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the left, led
+you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall, to your bedroom.
+That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr. Robert Ablett&rsquo;s
+intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr. Cayley
+suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the front windows,
+reading. No reason why he shouldn&rsquo;t be there; certainly a much cooler
+place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow there was a deserted air
+about the house that afternoon, as if all the guests were outside,
+or&mdash;perhaps the wisest place of all&mdash;up in their bedrooms, sleeping.
+Mr. Cayley, the master&rsquo;s cousin, was a surprise; and, having given a
+little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed, and said,
+&ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn&rsquo;t see you at first,&rdquo; and
+he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive smile it was on
+that big ugly face. &ldquo;Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley,&rdquo; she thought to
+herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would do without him. If
+this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia, it was Mr.
+Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So this is Mr. Robert,&rdquo; said Audrey to herself, as she came in
+sight of the visitor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for Mr.
+Mark&rsquo;s brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually she
+was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and his
+carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always moving from one
+to the other of any company he was in, to register one more smile to his credit
+when he had said a good thing, one more expectant look when he was only waiting
+his turn to say it; he was a very different man from this rough-looking,
+ill-dressed colonial, staring at her so loweringly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett,&rdquo; he growled. It sounded almost like
+a threat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a smile for
+everybody.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! So you know who I am, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Robert Ablett?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ay, that&rsquo;s right. So he&rsquo;s expecting me, eh? He&rsquo;ll be
+glad to see me, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you will come this way, sir,&rdquo; said Audrey primly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Robert Ab&mdash;&rdquo; she began, and then broke off. The room was
+empty. She turned to the man behind her. &ldquo;If you will sit down, sir, I
+will find the master. I know he&rsquo;s in, because he told me that you were
+coming this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; He looked round the room. &ldquo;What d&rsquo;you call this
+place, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The office, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The office?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The room where the master works, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Works, eh? That&rsquo;s new. Didn&rsquo;t know he&rsquo;d ever done a
+stroke of work in his life.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where he <i>writes</i>, sir,&rdquo; said Audrey, with dignity. The fact
+that Mr. Mark &ldquo;wrote,&rdquo; though nobody knew what, was a matter of
+pride in the housekeeper&rsquo;s room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will tell the master you are here, sir,&rdquo; said Audrey decisively.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She closed the door and left him there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once, going over
+all the things which he had said to her and she had said to
+him&mdash;quiet-like. &ldquo;Directly I saw him I said to myself&mdash;&rdquo;
+Why, you could have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a
+perpetual menace to Audrey.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked across the
+hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little uncertainly, and stood in
+front of Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you please, sir,&rdquo; she said in a low, respectful voice,
+&ldquo;can you tell me where the master is? It&rsquo;s Mr. Robert
+called.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Cayley, looking up from his book. &ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey repeated her question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. Isn&rsquo;t he in the office? He went up to the
+Temple after lunch. I don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;ve seen him since.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley returned to his book.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The &ldquo;Temple&rdquo; was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back
+of the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated sometimes
+before retiring to the &ldquo;office&rdquo; to put his thoughts upon paper. The
+thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were given off at the
+dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and got on to paper more
+often than they got into print. But that did not prevent the master of The Red
+House from being a little pained when a visitor treated the Temple carelessly,
+as if it had been erected for the ordinary purposes of flirtation and
+cigarette-smoking. There had been an occasion when two of his guests had been
+found playing fives in it. Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with
+a little less than his usual point&mdash;whether they couldn&rsquo;t find
+anywhere else for their game, but the offenders were never asked to The Red
+House again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly back. All
+that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his room. &ldquo;Not
+well-dressed enough for the drawing-room.&rdquo; Well, now, Auntie, would
+<i>you</i> like anyone in <i>your</i> drawing-room with a red handkerchief
+round his neck and great big dusty boots, and&mdash;listen! One of the men
+shooting rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot
+it was; she wouldn&rsquo;t say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr. Robert
+wasn&rsquo;t staying the night; he hadn&rsquo;t any luggage. Of course Mr. Mark
+could lend him things; he had clothes enough for six. She would have known him
+anywhere for Mr. Mark&rsquo;s brother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper&rsquo;s room on her way
+to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face looked out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo, Aud,&rdquo; said Elsie. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s Audrey,&rdquo; she
+said, turning into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come in, Audrey,&rdquo; called Mrs. Stevens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up?&rdquo; said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Up to the Temple.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you hear anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hear what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bangs and explosions and terrible things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Audrey, rather relieved. &ldquo;One of the men shooting
+rabbits. Why, I said to myself as I came along, &lsquo;Auntie&rsquo;s partial
+to a nice rabbit,&rsquo; I said, and I shouldn&rsquo;t be surprised
+if&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rabbits!&rdquo; said her aunt scornfully. &ldquo;It was inside the
+house, my girl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Straight it was,&rdquo; said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids.
+&ldquo;I said to Mrs. Stevens&mdash;didn&rsquo;t I, Mrs.
+Stevens?&mdash;&lsquo;That was in the house,&rsquo; I said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think he had a revolver with him?&rdquo; she said in a hushed
+voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; said Elsie excitedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on
+him, &lsquo;You&rsquo;re a bad lot, my man!&rsquo; That&rsquo;s what I said,
+Elsie. Even before he spoke to me. Rude!&rdquo; She turned to her aunt.
+&ldquo;Well, I give you <i>my</i> word.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone
+from Australia.&rdquo; Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather
+rapidly. &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t go out of this room now, not if you paid me a
+hundred thousand pounds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Mrs. Stevens!&rdquo; said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for
+a new pair of shoes, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t go as far as that, not myself,
+but&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older woman&rsquo;s
+chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They heard a man&rsquo;s voice, loud, angry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Open the door!&rdquo; it was shouting. &ldquo;Open the door! I say, open
+the door!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t open the door!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if
+it was her door which was threatened. &ldquo;Audrey! Elsie! Don&rsquo;t let him
+in!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Damn it, open the door!&rdquo; came the voice again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re all going to be murdered in our beds,&rdquo; she quavered.
+Terrified, the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs.
+Stevens sat there, waiting.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/>
+Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station</h2>
+
+<p>
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view, but it may
+be said at once that he never bored his company on the subject of his early
+life. However, stories get about. There is always somebody who knows. It was
+understood&mdash;and this, anyhow, on Mark&rsquo;s own authority&mdash;that his
+father had been a country clergyman. It was said that, as a boy, Mark had
+attracted the notice, and patronage, of some rich old spinster of the
+neighbourhood, who had paid for his education, both at school and university.
+At about the time when he was coming down from Cambridge, his father had died;
+leaving behind him a few debts, as a warning to his family, and a reputation
+for short sermons, as an example to his successor. Neither warning nor example
+seems to have been effective. Mark went to London, with an allowance from his
+patron, and (it is generally agreed) made acquaintance with the money-lenders.
+He was supposed, by his patron and any others who inquired, to be
+&ldquo;writing&rdquo;; but what he wrote, other than letters asking for more
+time to pay, has never been discovered. However, he attended the theatres and
+music halls very regularly&mdash;no doubt with a view to some serious articles
+in the &ldquo;Spectator&rdquo; on the decadence of the English stage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fortunately (from Mark&rsquo;s point of view) his patron died during his third
+year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. From that moment his life
+loses its legendary character, and becomes more a matter of history. He settled
+accounts with the money-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the
+harvesting of others, and became in his turn a patron. He patronized the Arts.
+It was not only usurers who discovered that Mark Ablett no longer wrote for
+money; editors were now offered free contributions as well as free lunches;
+publishers were given agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the
+author paid all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young painters and
+poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour, playing
+host and &ldquo;lead&rdquo; with equal lavishness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not what most people call a snob. A snob has been defined carelessly as
+a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a mean lover of mean
+things&mdash;which would be a little unkind to the peerage if the first
+definition were true. Mark had his vanities undoubtedly, but he would sooner
+have met an actor-manager than an earl; he would have spoken of his friendship
+with Dante&mdash;had that been possible&mdash;more glibly than of his
+friendship with the Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but not the worst kind
+of snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not Society; a climber, but in
+the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts. It also included Matthew Cayley, a
+small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as limited as had been
+Mark&rsquo;s own before his patron had rescued him. He sent the Cayley cousin
+to school and Cambridge. His motives, no doubt, were unworldly enough at first;
+a mere repaying to his account in the Recording Angel&rsquo;s book of the
+generosity which had been lavished on himself; a laying-up of treasure in
+heaven. But it is probable that, as the boy grew up, Mark&rsquo;s designs for
+his future were based on his own interests as much as those of his cousin, and
+that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of twenty-three was felt by him to be a
+useful property for a man in his position; a man, that is to say, whose
+vanities left him so little time for his affairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin&rsquo;s affairs. By this
+time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable amount of land which
+went with it. Cayley superintended the necessary staff. His duties, indeed,
+were many. He was not quite secretary, not quite land-agent, not quite
+business-adviser, not quite companion, but something of all four. Mark leant
+upon him and called him &ldquo;Cay,&rdquo; objecting quite rightly in the
+circumstances to the name of Matthew. Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable;
+a big, heavy-jawed, solid fellow, who didn&rsquo;t bother you with unnecessary
+talk&mdash;a boon to a man who liked to do most of the talking himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which was his
+patron&rsquo;s age. Spasmodically they entertained a good deal at the Red
+House, and Mark&rsquo;s preference&mdash;call it kindliness or vanity, as you
+please&mdash;was for guests who were not in a position to repay his
+hospitality. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that breakfast, of
+which Stevens, the parlour-maid, has already given us a glimpse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired, grey-moustached,
+silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel trousers, who lived on his
+retired pay and wrote natural history articles for the papers. He inspected the
+dishes on the side-table, decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it.
+He had passed on to a sausage by the time of the next arrival. This was Bill
+Beverly, a cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo, Major,&rdquo; he said as he came in, &ldquo;how&rsquo;s the
+gout?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t gout,&rdquo; said the Major gruffly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, whatever it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Major grunted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I make a point of being polite at breakfast,&rdquo; said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge. &ldquo;Most people are so rude. That&rsquo;s why I
+asked you. But don&rsquo;t tell me if it&rsquo;s a secret. Coffee?&rdquo; he
+added, as he poured himself out a cup.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thanks. I never drink till I&rsquo;ve finished eating.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite right, Major; it&rsquo;s only manners.&rdquo; He sat down opposite
+to the other. &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ve got a good day for our game. It&rsquo;s
+going to be dashed hot, but that&rsquo;s where Betty and I score. On the fifth
+green, your old wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in &rsquo;43,
+will begin to trouble you; on the eighth, your liver, undermined by years of
+curry, will drop to pieces; on the twelfth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, shut up, you ass!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m only warning you. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. I
+was just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him this
+morning. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own
+breakfast?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t get up,&rdquo; said Miss Norris. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+help myself. Good morning, Major.&rdquo; She smiled pleasantly at him. The
+Major nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good morning. Going to be hot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As I was telling him,&rdquo; began Bill, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s
+where&mdash;Hallo, here&rsquo;s Betty. Morning, Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the painter, who
+was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris took herself
+seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as a golfer. She was
+quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society nor Sandwich had any
+terrors for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the way, the car will be round at 10.30,&rdquo; said Cayley, looking
+up from his letters. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re lunching there, and driving back
+directly afterwards. Isn&rsquo;t that right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see why we shouldn&rsquo;t have&mdash;two rounds,&rdquo;
+said Bill hopefully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Much too hot in the afternoon,&rdquo; said the Major. &ldquo;Get back
+comfortably for tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and sat down to toast
+and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The others chattered gently while he read
+his letters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said Mark suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. &ldquo;I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it herself,
+particularly at rehearsals.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Cay!&rdquo; He was frowning to himself&mdash;annoyed, puzzled. He
+held up a letter and shook it. &ldquo;Who do you think this is from?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders. How could he
+possibly guess?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robert,&rdquo; said Mark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robert?&rdquo; It was difficult to surprise Cayley. &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all very well to say &lsquo;well?&rsquo; like that,&rdquo;
+said Mark peevishly. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s coming here this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course. So did I.&rdquo; He looked across at Rumbold. &ldquo;Got any
+brothers, Major?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, take my advice, and don&rsquo;t have any.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not likely to now,&rdquo; said the Major.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: &ldquo;But you haven&rsquo;t any
+brothers, Mr. Ablett?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One,&rdquo; said Mark grimly. &ldquo;If you&rsquo;re back in time
+you&rsquo;ll see him this afternoon. He&rsquo;ll probably ask you to lend him
+five pounds. Don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got a brother,&rdquo; said Bill helpfully, &ldquo;but I
+always borrow from <i>him</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Like Robert,&rdquo; said Mark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When was he in England last?&rdquo; asked Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About fifteen years ago, wasn&rsquo;t it? You&rsquo;d have been a boy,
+of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn&rsquo;t know if
+he had been back since.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Not to my knowledge.&rdquo; Mark, still obviously upset, returned to
+his letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Personally,&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;I think relations are a great
+mistake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the same,&rdquo; said Betty a little daringly, &ldquo;it must be
+rather fun having a skeleton in the cupboard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you think it&rsquo;s fun, I&rsquo;ll hand him over to you, Betty. If
+he&rsquo;s anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have
+been&mdash;well, Cay knows.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley grunted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All I knew was that one didn&rsquo;t ask questions about him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to ask more
+questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely in front of
+strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere statement of fact. But the
+subject dropped, to be succeeded by the more fascinating one of the coming
+foursome. Mrs. Calladine was driving over with the players in order to lunch
+with an old friend who lived near the links, and Mark and Cayley were remaining
+at home&mdash;on affairs. Apparently &ldquo;affairs&rdquo; were now to include
+a prodigal brother. But that need not make the foursome less enjoyable.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing his
+tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their business at
+the Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of Antony Gillingham was
+handing up his ticket at Woodham station and asking the way to the village.
+Having received directions, he left his bag with the station-master and walked
+off leisurely. He is an important person to this story, so that it is as well
+we should know something about him before letting him loose in it. Let us stop
+him at the top of the hill on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking than we are.
+Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually associated with the
+Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem to be absorbing every detail of
+our person. To strangers this look is almost alarming at first, until they
+discover that his mind is very often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left
+his eyes on guard, while he himself follows a train of thought in another
+direction. Many people do this, of course; when, for instance, they are talking
+to one person and trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them.
+Antony&rsquo;s never did.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never as a sailor.
+When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother&rsquo;s money, £400 a
+year, old Gillingham looked up from the &ldquo;Stockbreeders&rsquo;
+Gazette&rdquo; to ask what he was going to do.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See the world,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper. Antony was a younger son, and, on the
+whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets of certain other
+families; Champion Birket&rsquo;s, for instance. But, then, Champion Birket was
+the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London. His idea
+of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people; and to see them from
+as many angles as possible. There are all sorts in London if you know how to
+look at them. So Antony looked at them&mdash;from various strange corners; from
+the view-point of the valet, the newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the
+shop-assistant. With the independence of £400 a year behind him, he enjoyed it
+immensely. He never stayed long in one job, and generally closed his connection
+with it by telling his employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood
+between master and servant) exactly what he thought of him. He had no
+difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and testimonials
+he offered his personality and a sporting bet. He would take no wages the first
+month, and&mdash;if he satisfied his employer&mdash;double wages the second. He
+always got his double wages.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was now thirty. He had come to Woodham for a holiday, because he liked the
+look of the station. His ticket entitled him to travel further, but he had
+always intended to please himself in the matter. Woodham attracted him, and he
+had a suit-case in the carriage with him and money in his pocket. Why not get
+out?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The landlady of &lsquo;The George&rsquo; was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his luggage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but don&rsquo;t give yourself any trouble about it. Cold
+anything-you&rsquo;ve-got.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about beef, sir?&rdquo; she asked, as if she had a hundred
+varieties of meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That will do splendidly. And a pint of beer.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about the
+luggage. Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must be rather fun to keep a country inn,&rdquo; he said, thinking
+that it was about time he started another profession.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know about fun, sir. It gives us a living, and a bit
+over.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You ought to take a holiday,&rdquo; said Antony, looking at him
+thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Funny thing your saying that,&rdquo; said the landlord, with a smile.
+&ldquo;Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday. Offered to take my place an all.&rdquo; He laughed rumblingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Red House? Not the Red House, Stanton?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right, sir. Stanton&rsquo;s the next station to Woodham.
+The Red House is about a mile from here&mdash;Mr. Ablett&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed from &ldquo;The Red
+House, Stanton,&rdquo; and signed &ldquo;Bill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good old Bill,&rdquo; he murmured to himself. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s getting
+on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist&rsquo;s shop.
+Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley on the other.
+Something about Bill, his youth and freshness, perhaps, attracted Antony; and
+when cigarettes had been ordered, and an address given to which they were to be
+sent, he remembered that he had come across an aunt of Beverley&rsquo;s once at
+a country-house. Beverley and he met again a little later at a restaurant. Both
+of them were in evening-dress, but they did different things with their
+napkins, and Antony was the more polite of the two. However, he still liked
+Bill. So on one of his holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an
+introduction through a mutual friend. Beverley was a little inclined to be
+shocked when he was reminded of their previous meetings, but his uncomfortable
+feeling soon wore off, and he and Antony quickly became intimate. But Bill
+generally addressed him as &ldquo;Dear Madman&rdquo; when he happened to write.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and call upon his
+friend. Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite the lavender-smelling
+country-inn bedroom of fiction, but sufficiently clean and comfortable, he set
+out over the fields.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of the house,
+there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle cooing of
+pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant lawns the whir of a
+mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting, &ldquo;Open
+the <i>door</i>, I say; open the <i>door!</i>&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; said Antony in amazement.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/>
+Two Men and a Body</h2>
+
+<p>
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can I help?&rdquo; said Antony politely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something&rsquo;s happened,&rdquo; said Cayley. He was breathing
+quickly. &ldquo;I heard a shot&mdash;it sounded like a shot&mdash;I was in the
+library. A loud bang&mdash;I didn&rsquo;t know what it was. And the
+door&rsquo;s locked.&rdquo; He rattled the handle again, and shook it.
+&ldquo;Open the <i>door!</i>&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I say, Mark, what is it?
+Open the door!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he must have locked the door on purpose,&rdquo; said Antony.
+&ldquo;So why should he open it just because you ask him to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door again.
+&ldquo;We must break it in,&rdquo; he said, putting his shoulder to it.
+&ldquo;Help me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t there a window?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Window? Window?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So much easier to break in a window,&rdquo; said Antony with a smile. He
+looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall, leaning on
+his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of fuss was being made
+about nothing. But then, he had not heard the shot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Window&mdash;of course! What an idiot I am.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive. Antony followed
+him. They ran along the front of the house, down a path to the left, and then
+to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front, the other close behind him.
+Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder and pulled up short.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which opened on
+to the lawns at the back of the house. But now they were closed. Antony
+couldn&rsquo;t help feeling a thrill of excitement as he followed
+Cayley&rsquo;s example, and put his face close up to the glass. For the first
+time he wondered if there really <i>had</i> been a revolver shot in this
+mysterious room. It had all seemed so absurd and melodramatic from the other
+side of the door. But if there had been one shot, why should there not be two
+more?&mdash;at the careless fools who were pressing their noses against the
+panes, and asking for it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God, can you see it?&rdquo; said Cayley in a shaking voice.
+&ldquo;Down there. Look!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next moment Antony saw it. A man was lying on the floor at the far end of
+the room, his back towards them. A man? Or the body of a man?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; the other whispered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;d better go and see.&rdquo; He considered the windows for
+a moment. &ldquo;I should think, if you put your weight into it, just where
+they join, they&rsquo;ll give all right. Otherwise, we can kick the glass
+in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it. The window gave, and
+they went into the room. Cayley walked quickly to the body, and dropped on his
+knees by it. For the moment he seemed to hesitate; then with an effort he put a
+hand on to its shoulder and pulled it over.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank God!&rdquo; he murmured, and let the body go again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robert Ablett.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;I thought his name was Mark,&rdquo; he
+added, more to himself than to the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother.&rdquo; He shuddered,
+and said, &ldquo;I was afraid it was Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was Mark in the room too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, &ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle. &ldquo;I
+suppose he put the key in his pocket,&rdquo; he said, as he came back to the
+body again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whoever did this,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the man on the floor.
+&ldquo;Is he dead?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Help me,&rdquo; said Cayley simply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at it. Robert
+Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not a pleasant sight, and with
+his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for the man beside him, and a sudden
+remorse for the careless, easy way in which he had treated the affair. But then
+one always went about imagining that these things <i>didn&rsquo;t</i>
+happen&mdash;except to other people. It was difficult to believe in them just
+at first, when they happened to yourself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you know him well?&rdquo; said Antony quietly. He meant, &ldquo;Were
+you fond of him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hardly at all. Mark is <i>my</i> cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother I
+know best.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your cousin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He hesitated, and then said, &ldquo;Is he dead? I suppose he
+is. Will you&mdash;do you know anything about&mdash;about that sort of thing?
+Perhaps I&rsquo;d better get some water.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as Antony was to
+discover for himself directly, into a passage from which opened two more rooms.
+Cayley stepped into the passage, and opened the door on the right. The door
+from the office, through which he had gone, remained open. The door, at the end
+of the short passage was shut. Antony, kneeling by the body, followed Cayley
+with his eyes, and, after he had disappeared, kept his eyes on the blank wall
+of the passage, but he was not conscious of that at which he was looking, for
+his mind was with the other man, sympathizing with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not that water is any use to a dead body,&rdquo; he said to himself,
+&ldquo;but the feeling that you&rsquo;re doing something, when there&rsquo;s
+obviously nothing to be done, is a great comfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a handkerchief in
+the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded. Cayley murmured something, and
+knelt down to bathe the dead man&rsquo;s face. Then he placed the handkerchief
+over it. A little sigh escaped Antony, a sigh of relief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I can be of any help to you,&rdquo; said Antony, &ldquo;please let
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police,
+doctors&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know. But you mustn&rsquo;t let me trespass on your
+kindness. Indeed, I should apologise for having trespassed so much
+already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I came to see Beverley. He is an old friend of mine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s out playing golf. He will be back directly.&rdquo; Then, as
+if he had only just realized it, &ldquo;They will all be back directly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will stay if I can be of any help.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please do. You see, there are women. It will be rather painful. If you
+would&mdash;&rdquo; He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile,
+pathetic in so big and self-reliant a man. &ldquo;Just your moral support, you
+know. It would be something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo; Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully,
+&ldquo;Well, then, I&rsquo;ll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the
+police.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The police? Y-yes.&rdquo; He looked doubtfully at the other. &ldquo;I
+suppose&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony spoke frankly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, look here, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley. I&rsquo;m Mark Ablett&rsquo;s cousin. I live with him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My name&rsquo;s Gillingham. I&rsquo;m sorry, I ought to have told you
+before. Well now, Mr. Cayley, we shan&rsquo;t do any good by pretending.
+Here&rsquo;s a man been shot&mdash;well, somebody shot him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He might have shot himself,&rdquo; mumbled Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he might have, but he didn&rsquo;t. Or if he did, somebody was in
+the room at the time, and that somebody isn&rsquo;t here now. And that somebody
+took a revolver away with him. Well, the police will want to say a word about
+that, won&rsquo;t they?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I know what you&rsquo;re thinking, and believe me I do sympathize
+with you, but we can&rsquo;t be children about it. If your cousin Mark Ablett
+was in the room with this&rdquo;&mdash;he indicated the body&mdash;&ldquo;this
+man, then&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who said he was?&rdquo; said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at
+Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was in the library. Mark went in&mdash;he may have come out
+again&mdash;I know nothing. Somebody else may have gone in&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; said Antony patiently, as if to a little child.
+&ldquo;You know your cousin; I don&rsquo;t. Let&rsquo;s agree that he had
+nothing to do with it. But somebody was in the room when this man was shot,
+and&mdash;well, the police will have to know. Don&rsquo;t you
+think&mdash;&rdquo; He looked at the telephone. &ldquo;Or would you rather I
+did it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I&mdash;er&mdash;look round a bit?&rdquo; Antony nodded towards the
+open door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, do. Yes.&rdquo; He sat down and drew the telephone towards him.
+&ldquo;You must make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham. You see, I&rsquo;ve
+known Mark for a very long time. But, of course, you&rsquo;re quite right, and
+I&rsquo;m merely being stupid.&rdquo; He took off the receiver.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance with this
+&ldquo;office,&rdquo; we are coming into it from the hall, through the door
+which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience, has been magically
+unlocked for us. As we stand just inside the door, the length of the room runs
+right and left; or, more accurately, to the right only, for the left-hand wall
+is almost within our reach. Immediately opposite to us, across the breadth of
+the room (some fifteen feet), is that other door, by which Cayley went out and
+returned a few minutes ago. In the right-hand wall, thirty feet away from us,
+are the French windows. Crossing the room and going out by the opposite door,
+we come into a passage, from which two rooms lead. The one on the right, into
+which Cayley went, is less than half the length of the office, a small, square
+room, which has evidently been used some time or other as a bedroom. The bed is
+no longer there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold taps, in a corner;
+chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers. The window faces the same
+way as the French windows in the next room; but anybody looking out of the
+bedroom window has his view on the immediate right shut off by the outer wall
+of the office, which projects, by reason of its greater length, fifteen feet
+further into the lawn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom. The three rooms
+together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used, perhaps, during the
+occupation of the previous owner, by some invalid, who could not manage the
+stairs, but allowed by Mark to fall into disuse, save for the living-room. At
+any rate, he never slept downstairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom, the room
+into which Cayley had been. The window was open, and he looked out at the
+well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful stretch of park beyond; and he
+felt very sorry for the owner of it all, who was now mixed up in so grim a
+business.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley thinks he did it,&rdquo; said Antony to himself.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s obvious. It explains why he wasted so much time banging on
+the door. Why should he try to break a lock when it&rsquo;s so much easier to
+break a window? Of course he might just have lost his head; on the other hand,
+he might&mdash;well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a chance of
+getting away. The same about the police, and&mdash;oh, lots of things. Why, for
+instance, did we run all the way round the house in order to get to the
+windows? Surely there&rsquo;s a back way out through the hall. I must have a
+look later on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost <i>his</i> head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to see Cayley in
+the doorway. He remained looking at him for a moment, asking himself a
+question. It was rather a curious question. He was asking himself why the door
+was open.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained easily enough.
+But why had he expected the door to be shut? He did not remember shutting it,
+but somehow he was surprised to see it open now, to see Cayley through the
+doorway, just coming into the room. Something working sub-consciously in his
+brain had told him that it was surprising. Why?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment; the answer
+would come to him later on. He had a wonderfully retentive mind. Everything
+which he saw or heard seemed to make its corresponding impression somewhere in
+his brain; often without his being conscious of it; and these photographic
+impressions were always there ready for him when he wished to develop them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve telephoned,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re sending an
+inspector or some one from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from
+Stanton.&rdquo; He shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re in for it
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How far away is Middleston?&rdquo; It was the town for which Antony had
+taken a ticket that morning&mdash;only six hours ago. How absurd it seemed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About twenty miles. These people will be coming back soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Beverley, and the others?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I expect they&rsquo;ll want to go away at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Much better that they should.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Cayley was silent for a little. Then he said,
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re staying near here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m at &lsquo;The George,&rsquo; at Woodham.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you&rsquo;re by yourself, I wish you&rsquo;d put up here. You
+see,&rdquo; he went on awkwardly, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll have to <i>be</i>
+here&mdash;for the&mdash;the inquest and&mdash;and so on. If I may offer you my
+cousin&rsquo;s hospitality in his&mdash;I mean if he doesn&rsquo;t&mdash;if he
+really has&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s good. Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he&rsquo;s a friend
+of yours. He&rsquo;s a good fellow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to say,
+that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn&rsquo;t follow
+that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally; and when they
+have gone off, people lose their heads and run away, fearing that their story
+will not be believed. Nevertheless, when people run away, whether innocently or
+guiltily, one can&rsquo;t help wondering which way they went.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose this way,&rdquo; said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; said Cayley stubbornly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, whoever it was,&rdquo; said Antony, smiling to himself. &ldquo;The
+murderer. Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
+killed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, how else could he have got away? He didn&rsquo;t go by the windows
+in the next room, because they were shut.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that rather odd?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I thought so at first, but&mdash;&rdquo; He pointed to the wall
+jutting out on the right. &ldquo;You see, you&rsquo;re protected from the rest
+of the house if you get out here, and you&rsquo;re quite close to the
+shrubbery. If you go out at the French windows, I imagine you&rsquo;re much
+more visible. All that part of the house&mdash;&rdquo; he waved his right
+hand&mdash;&ldquo;the west, well, north-west almost, where the kitchen parts
+are&mdash;you see, you&rsquo;re hidden from them here. Oh, yes! he knew the
+house, whoever it was, and he was quite right to come out of this window.
+He&rsquo;d be into the shrubbery at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that <i>you</i> know the house pretty
+well, considering that this is the first time you&rsquo;ve been to it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I&rsquo;m
+right, aren&rsquo;t I, about why he went out this way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I think you are.&rdquo; Cayley looked away&mdash;towards the
+shrubbery. &ldquo;Do you want to go noticing in <i>there</i> now?&rdquo; He
+nodded at
+it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think we might leave that to the police,&rdquo; said Antony gently.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s&mdash;well, there&rsquo;s no hurry.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the answer,
+and could now breathe again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Gillingham,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/>
+The Brother from Australia</h2>
+
+<p>
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason&mdash;the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
+when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted to do,
+the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little weakness of their
+host&rsquo;s, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill that they should have
+a second round in the afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea. The
+other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine, without actually saying
+that Mr. Ablett wouldn&rsquo;t like it, was firm on the point that, having
+arranged to be back by four, they should be back by four.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t think Mark wants us, you know,&rdquo; said the
+Major. Having played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the
+afternoon that he was really better than that. &ldquo;With this brother of his
+coming, he&rsquo;ll be only too glad to have us out of the way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he will, Major.&rdquo; This from Bill. &ldquo;You&rsquo;d like
+to play, wouldn&rsquo;t you, Miss Norris?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn&rsquo;t keep you
+here. Besides, it&rsquo;s so dull for you, not playing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just nine holes, mother,&rdquo; pleaded Betty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were having
+another round, and then it could come back for us,&rdquo; said Bill
+brilliantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s certainly much cooler here than I expected,&rdquo; put in the
+Major.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the golf-house, and of
+course Mark <i>would</i> be rather glad to have them out of the way. So she
+consented to nine holes; and the match having ended all-square, and everybody
+having played much better than in the morning, they drove back to the Red
+House, very well pleased with themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo,&rdquo; said Bill to himself, as they approached the house,
+&ldquo;isn&rsquo;t that old Tony?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill waved, and he
+waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in front with the chauffeur,
+jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?&rdquo; He had a
+sudden idea. &ldquo;<i>Don&rsquo;t</i> say you&rsquo;re Mark Ablett&rsquo;s
+long-lost brother from Australia, though I could quite believe it of
+you.&rdquo; He laughed boyishly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo, Bill,&rdquo; said Antony quietly. &ldquo;Will you introduce me?
+I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;ve got some bad news.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs. Calladine were
+on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in a low voice.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m going to give you rather a shock,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Robert Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett&rsquo;s brother, has been
+killed.&rdquo; He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. &ldquo;In the house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said the Major.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean that he has killed himself?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Calladine.
+&ldquo;Just now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,&rdquo;&mdash;he
+half-turned to Beverley and explained&mdash;&ldquo;I was coming to see
+<i>you</i>, Bill, and I arrived just after the&mdash;the death. Mr. Cayley and
+I found the body. Mr. Cayley being busy just now&mdash;there are police and
+doctors and so on in the house&mdash;he asked me to tell you. He says that no
+doubt you would prefer, the house-party having been broken up in this tragic
+way, to leave as soon as possible.&rdquo; He gave a pleasant apologetic little
+smile and went on, &ldquo;I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course,
+is that you must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please
+make your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish
+to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which you could go by if you
+wished it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary to
+express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had already used.
+Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying, &ldquo;<i>Who&rsquo;s</i>
+killed?&rdquo; in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was instinctively
+looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a messenger announced the
+death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain. Mrs.
+Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand,&rdquo; she said;
+&ldquo;but we can&rsquo;t just shake the dust of the place off our shoes
+because something terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can
+arrange later what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps
+we&mdash;&rdquo; she hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Major and I might be useful anyway,&rdquo; said Bill.
+&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that what you mean, Mrs. Calladine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is Mark?&rdquo; said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked back unwaveringly&mdash;and said nothing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine,
+&ldquo;that it would be better if you took Betty back to London
+to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she agreed quietly. &ldquo;You will come with us,
+Ruth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see you safely there,&rdquo; said Bill in a meek voice. He
+didn&rsquo;t quite know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the
+Red House for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London
+seemed to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony
+alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley wants you to stay, Bill. You have to go anyhow, to-morrow, Major
+Rumbold?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I&rsquo;ll come with you, Mrs. Calladine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not hesitate
+to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard any telephoning
+or telegraphing that you want done.&rdquo; He smiled again and added,
+&ldquo;Please forgive me if I seem to have taken a good deal upon myself, but I
+just happened to be handy as a mouthpiece for Cayley.&rdquo; He bowed to them
+and went into the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well!&rdquo; said Miss Norris dramatically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was just crossing
+into the library with Cayley. The latter stopped and nodded to Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait a moment, Inspector. Here&rsquo;s Mr. Gillingham. He&rsquo;d better
+come with us.&rdquo; And then to Antony, &ldquo;This is Inspector Birch.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together,&rdquo; explained Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Well, come along, and let&rsquo;s get the facts sorted out a bit. I
+like to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We all do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; He looked at Antony with interest. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you know
+where you are in this case?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know where I&rsquo;m going to be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Put through it by Inspector Birch,&rdquo; said Antony with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector laughed genially.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll spare you as much as I can. Come along.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went into the library. The inspector seated himself at a writing-table,
+and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it. Antony made himself comfortable in
+an armchair and prepared to be interested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll start with the dead man,&rdquo; said the Inspector.
+&ldquo;Robert Ablett, didn&rsquo;t you say?&rdquo; He took out his notebook.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; He began to sharpen a pencil. &ldquo;Staying in the
+house?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew about
+Robert. This was news to him. &ldquo;I see. Sent out of the country in
+disgrace. What had he done?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hardly know. I was only about twelve at the time. The sort of age when
+you&rsquo;re told not to ask questions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inconvenient questions?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you don&rsquo;t really know whether he had been merely wild
+or&mdash;or wicked?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman,&rdquo; added Cayley. &ldquo;Perhaps
+what might seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the
+world.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I daresay, Mr. Cayley,&rdquo; smiled the Inspector. &ldquo;Anyhow, it
+was more convenient to have him in Australia?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark Ablett never talked about him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and&mdash;well, very glad
+he was in Australia.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he write Mark sometimes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Asking for money?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something of the sort. I don&rsquo;t think Mark always answered them. As
+far as I know, he never sent any money.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was
+unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;d never liked each other as boys. There was never any
+affection between them. I don&rsquo;t know whose fault it was in the first
+place&mdash;if anybody&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Still, Mark might have given him a hand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; said Cayley, &ldquo;that Robert spent his whole
+life asking for hands.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know that sort. Well, now, we&rsquo;ll go on to this morning. This
+letter that Mark got&mdash;did you see it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any address?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is it now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. In Mark&rsquo;s pocket, I expect.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; He pulled at his beard. &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll come to
+that. Can you remember what it said?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As far as I remember, something like this: &lsquo;Mark, your loving
+brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you
+warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I hope, your
+pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; The inspector copied it down carefully. &ldquo;Did you notice
+the postmark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;London.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what was Mark&rsquo;s attitude?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Annoyance, disgust&mdash;&rdquo; Cayley hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Apprehension?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant interview,
+not of any unpleasant outcome for himself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that he wasn&rsquo;t afraid of violence, or blackmail, or
+anything of that sort?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t appear to be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three
+o&rsquo;clock?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, about that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who was in the house then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don&rsquo;t know which. Of
+course, you will ask them directly, no doubt.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With your permission. No guests?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They were out all day playing golf,&rdquo; explained Cayley. &ldquo;Oh,
+by the way,&rdquo; he put in, &ldquo;if I may interrupt a moment, will you want
+to see them at all? It isn&rsquo;t very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I
+suggested&mdash;&rdquo; he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. &ldquo;I
+understand that they want to go back to London this evening. There&rsquo;s no
+objection to that, I suppose?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him
+later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right, Mr. Cayley. Well, now then, let&rsquo;s go back
+to three o&rsquo;clock. Where were you when Robert arrived?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey had asked him
+where the master was, and how he had said that he had last seen him going up to
+the Temple.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She went away, and I went on with my book. There was a step on the
+stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down. He went into the office, and I
+went on with my book again. I went into the library for a moment, to refer to
+another book, and when I was in there I heard a shot. At least, it was a loud
+bang, I wasn&rsquo;t sure if it was a shot. I stood and listened. Then I came
+slowly to the door and looked out. Then I went back again, hesitated a bit, you
+know, and finally decided to go across to the office, and make sure that it was
+all right. I turned the handle of the door and found it was locked. Then I got
+frightened, and I banged at the door, and shouted, and&mdash;well, that was
+when Mr. Gillingham arrived.&rdquo; He went on to explain how they had found
+the body.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley. Mr.
+Mark, now. You thought he was in the Temple. Could he have come in, and gone up
+to his room, without your seeing him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are back stairs. He wouldn&rsquo;t have used them in the ordinary
+way, of course. But I wasn&rsquo;t in the hall all the afternoon. He might
+easily have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that you weren&rsquo;t surprised when you saw him coming down?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, not a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, did he say anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said, &lsquo;Robert&rsquo;s here?&rsquo; or something of the sort. I
+suppose he&rsquo;d heard the bell, or the voices in the hall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which way does his bedroom face? Could he have seen him coming down the
+drive?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He might have, yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, I said &lsquo;Yes,&rsquo; and he gave a sort of shrug, and
+said, &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t go too far away, I might want you&rsquo;; and then
+went in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you think he meant by that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he consults me a good deal, you know. I&rsquo;m his sort of
+unofficial solicitor in a kind of way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. That&rsquo;s how he regarded it, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. How long was it before you heard the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very soon. Two minutes, perhaps.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley thoughtfully.
+Suddenly he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is your theory of Robert&rsquo;s death?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve probably seen more than I&rsquo;ve seen,&rdquo; he
+answered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s your job. I can only speak as a layman&mdash;and
+Mark&rsquo;s friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing a
+revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get it from
+him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark lost his head,
+finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and a dead man at his feet.
+His one idea was to escape. He locked the door almost instinctively, and then,
+when he heard me hammering at it, went out of the window.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should hardly call it &lsquo;reasonable&rsquo; to lose your
+head,&rdquo; said Antony, getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you know what I mean. It explains things.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more
+complicated.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Have</i> you any other explanation?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not I.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?&mdash;anything that he left out after you arrived here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thanks. He described it all very accurately.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! Well now, about yourself. You&rsquo;re not staying in the house, I
+gather?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Did you hear the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. &ldquo;Yes. Just as I came in
+sight of the house. It didn&rsquo;t make any impression at the time, but I
+remember it now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where were you then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nobody,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re certain of that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely,&rdquo; said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could
+be suspected of a mistake.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you. You&rsquo;re at &lsquo;The George,&rsquo; if I want
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest,&rdquo; explained
+Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good. Well now, about these servants?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/>
+Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession</h2>
+
+<p>
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you won&rsquo;t want me, I suppose, inspector,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You&rsquo;ll be about, of course?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone. You
+know what they are; the more people about, the more they get alarmed. I expect
+I can get at the truth better by myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel
+rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr. Gillingham very
+kindly&mdash;&rdquo; He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the door, and left
+his sentence unfinished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, that reminds me,&rdquo; said the Inspector. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you
+say that one of your guests&mdash;Mr. Beverley was it?&mdash;a friend of Mr.
+Gillingham&rsquo;s, was staying on?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; would you like to see him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afterwards, if I may.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a
+room upstairs where I work&mdash;any of the servants will show you. Ah,
+Stevens, Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The housekeeper&rsquo;s room had heard something of the news by this time, and
+Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff exactly
+what <i>he</i> had said, and what <i>she</i> had said. The details were not
+quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that Mr.
+Mark&rsquo;s brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and that
+Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she opened the door
+to him. She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens. And Mrs. Stevens&mdash;if
+you remember, Audrey&mdash;had always said that people didn&rsquo;t go away to
+Australia except for very good reasons. Elsie agreed with both of them, but she
+had a contribution of her own to make. She had actually heard Mr. Mark in the
+office, threatening his brother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean Mr. Robert,&rdquo; said the second parlour-maid. She had been
+having a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang. In fact, it had
+woken her up&mdash;just like something going off, it was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was Mr. Mark&rsquo;s voice,&rdquo; said Elsie firmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Pleading for mercy,&rdquo; said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully
+from the door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she had
+not given her presence away. But it was hard to listen in silence when she knew
+so well from her novelettes just what happened on these occasions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind,&rdquo; said Mrs.
+Stevens. &ldquo;Well, Elsie?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, &lsquo;It&rsquo;s my turn
+now,&rsquo; he said, triumphant-like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, if you think that&rsquo;s a threat, dear, you&rsquo;re very
+particular, I must say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Audrey remembered Elsie&rsquo;s words when she was in front of Inspector
+Birch. She gave her own evidence with the readiness of one who had already
+repeated it several times, and was examined and cross-examined by the Inspector
+with considerable skill. The temptation to say, &ldquo;Never mind about what
+<i>you</i> said to <i>him</i>,&rdquo; was strong, but he resisted it, knowing
+that in this way he would discover best what <i>he</i> said to <i>her</i>. By
+this time both his words and the looks he gave her were getting their full
+value from Audrey, but the general meaning of them seemed to be
+well-established.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you didn&rsquo;t see Mr. Mark at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room. Or come in
+by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by the back.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Well, I think that&rsquo;s all that I want to know, thank you very
+much. Now what about the other servants?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together,&rdquo; said
+Audrey eagerly. &ldquo;He was saying&mdash;Mr. Mark, I mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah! Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself. Who is Elsie,
+by the way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of the housemaids. Shall I send her to you, sir?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message. It interrupted a few remarks from Mrs.
+Stevens about Elsie&rsquo;s conduct that afternoon which were (Elsie thought)
+much better interrupted. In Mrs. Stevens&rsquo; opinion any crime committed
+that afternoon in the office was as nothing to the double crime committed by
+the unhappy Elsie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have said
+nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon. She was bad at
+concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering it. Elsie knew
+perfectly well that she had no business to come down the front stairs, and it
+was no excuse to say that she happened to come out of Miss Norris&rsquo; room
+just at the head of the stairs, and didn&rsquo;t think it would matter, as
+there was nobody in the hall, and what was she doing anyhow in Miss
+Norris&rsquo; room at that time? Returning a magazine? Lent by Miss Norris,
+might she ask? Well, not exactly lent. Really, Elsie!&mdash;and this in a
+respectable house! In vain for poor Elsie to plead that a story by her
+favourite author was advertised on the cover, with a picture of the villain
+falling over the cliff. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s where <i>you&rsquo;ll</i> go to, my
+girl, if you aren&rsquo;t careful,&rdquo; said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to Inspector
+Birch. All that interested him was that she was passing through the hall, and
+heard voices in the office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And stopped to listen?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly not,&rdquo; said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody
+really understood her. &ldquo;I was just passing through the hall, just as you
+might have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets,
+didn&rsquo;t think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done.&rdquo;
+And she sniffed slightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come,&rdquo; said the Inspector soothingly, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t
+mean to suggest&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Everyone is very unkind to me,&rdquo; said Elsie between sniffs,
+&ldquo;and there&rsquo;s that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they&rsquo;d
+have been, if it had been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this
+day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense, we&rsquo;re going to be very proud of you. I shouldn&rsquo;t
+be surprised if your evidence were of very great importance. Now then, what was
+it you heard? Try to remember the exact words.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but who said it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Robert.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you know it was Mr. Robert? Had you heard his voice
+before?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance
+with Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn&rsquo;t Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr. Cayley,
+nor any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown Mr. Robert into the
+office not five minutes before&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite so,&rdquo; said the Inspector hurriedly. &ldquo;Mr. Robert,
+undoubtedly. Working in a passage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was what it sounded like, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m. Working a passage over&mdash;could that have been it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right, sir,&rdquo; said Elsie eagerly. &ldquo;He&rsquo;d
+worked his passage over.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then Mr. Mark said loudly&mdash;sort of
+triumphant-like&mdash;&lsquo;It&rsquo;s <i>my</i> turn now. You
+wait.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Triumphantly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As much as to say his chance had come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that&rsquo;s all you heard?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all, sir&mdash;not standing there listening, but just
+passing through the hall, as it might be any time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Well, that&rsquo;s really very important, Elsie. Thank you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen. She was ready for
+Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own. There was a point
+which was puzzling him. He went through the hall to the front of the house and
+stood at the open door, looking out on to the drive. He and Cayley had run
+round the house to the left. Surely it would have been quicker to have run
+round to the right? The front door was not in the middle of the house, it was
+to the end. Undoubtedly they went the longest way round. But perhaps there was
+something in the way, if one went to the right&mdash;a wall, say. He strolled
+off in that direction, followed a path round the house and came in sight of the
+office windows. Quite simple, and about half the distance of the other way. He
+went on a little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in
+windows. It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage. At the end of the
+passage was another door. He opened it and found himself in the hall again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, of course, that&rsquo;s the quickest way of the three,&rdquo; he
+said to himself. &ldquo;Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left
+and there you are. Instead of which, we ran the longest way round the house.
+Why? Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape? Only, in that
+case&mdash;why <i>run?</i> Also, how did Cayley know then that it was Mark who
+was trying to escape? If he had guessed&mdash;well, not guessed, but been
+afraid&mdash;that one had shot the other, it was much more likely that Robert
+had shot Mark. Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought. The first
+thing he had said when he turned the body over was, &lsquo;Thank God! I was
+afraid it was Mark.&rsquo; But why should he want to give <i>Robert</i> time in
+which to get away? And again&mdash;why <i>run,</i> if he did want to give him
+time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and sat down on a
+bench in view of the office windows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s go through Cayley&rsquo;s
+mind carefully, and see what we get.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office. The servant
+goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his book. Mark comes down
+the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case he is wanted, and goes to meet his
+brother. What does Cayley expect? Possibly that he won&rsquo;t be wanted at
+all; possibly that his advice may be wanted in the matter, say, of paying
+Robert&rsquo;s debts, or getting him a passage back to Australia; possibly that
+his physical assistance may be wanted to get an obstreperous Robert out of the
+house. Well, he sits there for a moment, and then goes into the library. Why
+not? He is still within reach, if wanted. Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot. A
+pistol-shot is the last noise you expect to hear in a country-house; very
+natural, then, that for the moment he would hardly realize what it was. He
+listens&mdash;and hears nothing more. Perhaps it wasn&rsquo;t a pistol-shot
+after all. After a moment or two he goes to the library door again. The
+profound silence makes him uneasy now. <i>Was</i> it a pistol-shot? Absurd!
+Still&mdash;no harm in going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure
+himself. So he tries the door&mdash;and finds it locked!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What are his emotions now? Alarm, uncertainty. Something is happening.
+Incredible though it seems, it must have been a pistol-shot. He is banging at
+the door and calling out to Mark, and there is no answer. Alarm&mdash;yes. But
+alarm for whose safety? Mark&rsquo;s, obviously. Robert is a stranger; Mark is
+an intimate friend. Robert has written a letter that morning, the letter of a
+man in a dangerous temper. Robert is the tough customer; Mark the highly
+civilized gentleman. If there has been a quarrel, it is Robert who has shot
+Mark. He bangs at the door again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley&rsquo;s conduct
+had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment, Cayley had lost his
+head. Anybody else might have done the same. But, as soon as Antony suggested
+trying the windows, Cayley saw that that was the obvious thing to do. So he
+leads the way to the windows&mdash;the longest way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why? To give the murderer time to escape? If he had thought then that Mark was
+the murderer, perhaps, yes. But he thinks that Robert is the murderer. If he is
+not hiding anything, he <i>must</i> think so. Indeed he says so, when he sees
+the body; &ldquo;I was afraid it was Mark,&rdquo; he says, when he finds that
+it is Robert who is killed. No reason, then, for wishing to gain time. On the
+contrary, every instinct would urge him to get into the room as quickly as
+possible, and seize the wicked Robert. Yet he goes the longest way round. Why?
+And then, why <i>run?</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the question,&rdquo; said Antony to himself, as he filled
+his pipe, &ldquo;and bless me if I know the answer. It may be, of course, that
+Cayley is just a coward. He was in no hurry to get close to Robert&rsquo;s
+revolver, and yet wanted me to think that he was bursting with eagerness. That
+would explain it, but then that makes Cayley out a coward. Is he? At any rate
+he pushed his face up against the window bravely enough. No, I want a better
+answer than that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking. There were one or two
+other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be taken out and looked at.
+For the moment he left them undisturbed. They would come back to him later when
+he wanted them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was wanting a new profession,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;and now
+I&rsquo;ve found it. Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound. I shall
+begin to-day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Whatever Antony Gillingham&rsquo;s other qualifications for his new profession,
+he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and quickly. And this clear
+brain of his had already told him that he was the only person in the house at
+that moment who was unhandicapped in the search for truth. The inspector had
+arrived in it to find a man dead and a man missing. It was extremely probable,
+no doubt, that the missing man had shot the dead man. But it was more than
+extremely probable, it was almost certain that the Inspector would start with
+the idea that this extremely probable solution was the one true solution, and
+that, in consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without prejudice
+any other solution. As regards all the rest of them&mdash;Cayley, the guests,
+the servants&mdash;they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark (or possibly,
+for all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against, each other; they had
+formed some previous opinion, from what had been said that morning, of the sort
+of man Robert was. No one of them could consider the matter with an unbiased
+mind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Antony could. He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about Robert. He
+had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead man was. He knew that a
+tragedy had happened before he knew that anybody was missing. Those first
+impressions, which are so vitally important, had been received solely on the
+merits of the case; they were founded on the evidence of his senses, not on the
+evidence of his emotions or of other people&rsquo;s senses. He was in a much
+better position for getting at the truth than was the Inspector.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector Birch a
+slight injustice. Birch was certainly prepared to believe that Mark had shot
+his brother. Robert had been shown into the office (witness Audrey); Mark had
+gone in to Robert (witness Cayley); Mark and Robert had been heard talking
+(witness Elsie); there was a shot (witness everybody); the room had been
+entered and Robert&rsquo;s body had been found (witness Cayley and Gillingham).
+And Mark was missing. Obviously, then, Mark had killed his brother:
+accidentally, as Cayley believed, or deliberately, as Elsie&rsquo;s evidence
+seemed to suggest. There was no point in looking for a difficult solution to a
+problem, when the easy solution had no flaw in it. But at the same time Birch
+would have preferred the difficult solution, simply because there was more
+credit attached to it. A &ldquo;sensational&rdquo; arrest of somebody in the
+house would have given him more pleasure than a commonplace pursuit of Mark
+Ablett across country. Mark must be found, guilty or not guilty. But there were
+other possibilities. It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the
+time when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector, the
+Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon the possibilities in
+connection with Mr. Gillingham. Was it only a coincidence that Mr. Gillingham
+had turned up just when he did? And Mr. Beverley&rsquo;s curious answers when
+asked for some account of his friend. An assistant in a tobacconist&rsquo;s, a
+waiter! An odd man, Mr. Gillingham, evidently. It might be as well to keep an
+eye on him.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/>
+Outside Or Inside?</h2>
+
+<p>
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different manner.
+The Major, gruff and simple: &ldquo;If you want me, command me. Anything I can
+do&mdash;Good-bye&rdquo;; Betty, silently sympathetic, with everything in her
+large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell; Mrs. Calladine, protesting
+that she did not know <i>what</i> to say, but apparently finding plenty; and
+Miss Norris, crowding so much into one despairing gesture that Cayley&rsquo;s
+unvarying &ldquo;Thank you very much&rdquo; might have been taken this time as
+gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with a special
+squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to join Antony on his
+garden seat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, this is a rum show,&rdquo; said Bill as he sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very rum, William.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you actually walked right into it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right into it,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you&rsquo;re the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn&rsquo;t keep to the
+point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but kept
+asking me questions about where I&rsquo;d met you first, and all sorts of dull
+things like that. Now, what really happened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told the
+Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate &ldquo;Good
+Lords&rdquo; and whistles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, it&rsquo;s a bit of a business, isn&rsquo;t it? Where do <i>I</i>
+come in, exactly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through it
+by that inspector as if I knew all about it&mdash;what&rsquo;s the idea?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smiled at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s nothing to worry about, you know. Naturally Birch
+wanted to see one of you so as to know what you&rsquo;d all been doing all day.
+And Cayley was nice enough to think that you&rsquo;d be company for me, as I
+knew you already. And&mdash;well, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re staying here, in the house?&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+&ldquo;Good man. That&rsquo;s splendid.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It reconciles you to the departure of&mdash;some of the others?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway,&rdquo; he murmured.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I congratulate you. I liked her looks. And that grey dress. A nice
+comfortable sort of woman&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You fool, that&rsquo;s her mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon. But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she does
+just now. So try and put up with me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, do you really?&rdquo; said Bill, rather flattered. He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. You see, things are going to happen here soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inquests and that sort of thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, perhaps something before that. Hallo, here comes Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big, heavy-shouldered man,
+with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly faces which can never quite be
+called plain. &ldquo;Bad luck on Cayley,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;I say, ought
+I to tell him how sorry I am and all that sort of thing? It seems so dashed
+inadequate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t bother,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can make room for you,&rdquo; said Bill, getting up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t bother, thanks. I just came to say,&rdquo; he went on to
+Antony, &ldquo;that naturally they&rsquo;ve rather lost their heads in the
+kitchen, and dinner won&rsquo;t be till half-past eight. Do just as you like
+about dressing, of course. And what about your luggage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see about
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the
+station.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow,
+to pack up and pay my bill. Besides, it&rsquo;s a good evening for a walk. If
+you wouldn&rsquo;t mind it, Bill?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should love it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I&rsquo;ll send the car round
+for it later.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little awkwardly, as
+if not sure whether to go or to stay. Antony wondered whether he wanted to talk
+about the afternoon&rsquo;s happenings, or whether it was the one subject he
+wished to avoid. To break the silence he asked carelessly if the Inspector had
+gone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley nodded. Then he said abruptly, &ldquo;He&rsquo;s getting a warrant for
+Mark&rsquo;s arrest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug of the
+shoulders, &ldquo;Well, he was bound to do that, wasn&rsquo;t he? It
+doesn&rsquo;t follow that&mdash;well, it doesn&rsquo;t mean anything. They
+naturally want to get hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?&rdquo; said Cayley, looking at
+him steadily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark? It&rsquo;s absurd,&rdquo; said Bill impetuously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bill&rsquo;s loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. So perhaps I might be too frank.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the seat, and
+sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his hands, gazing at
+the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want you to be quite frank,&rdquo; he said at last. &ldquo;Naturally I
+am prejudiced where Mark is concerned. So I want to know how my suggestion
+strikes you&mdash;who have no prejudices either way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your suggestion?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely
+accidental&mdash;as I told the Inspector.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked up with interest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that Robert did the hold-up business,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;and there was a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then
+Mark lost his head and bolted? That sort of idea?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that seems all right.&rdquo; He turned to Antony.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing wrong with that, is there? It&rsquo;s the most
+natural explanation to anyone who knows Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose it is,&rdquo; he said slowly. &ldquo;But there&rsquo;s one
+thing that worries me rather.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; Bill and Cayley asked the question
+simultaneously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The key.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The key?&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony. &ldquo;What about the key?&rdquo;
+he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered. Suppose Robert was
+killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought of nothing but
+getting away before anyone could see him. Well, very likely he&rsquo;d lock the
+door and put the key in his pocket. He&rsquo;d do it without thinking, just to
+gain a moment&rsquo;s time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s what I suggest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems sound enough,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;Sort of thing
+you&rsquo;d do without thinking. Besides, if you are going to run away, it
+gives you more of a chance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s all right if the key is there. But suppose it
+isn&rsquo;t there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact, startled them
+both. They looked at him wonderingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; said Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s just a question of where people happen to keep their
+keys. You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your door in case
+anybody comes wandering in when you&rsquo;ve only got one sock and a pair of
+braces on. Well, that&rsquo;s natural enough. And if you look round the
+bedrooms of almost any house, you&rsquo;ll find the keys all ready, so that you
+can lock yourself in at a moment&rsquo;s notice. But downstairs people
+don&rsquo;t lock themselves in. It&rsquo;s really never done at all. Bill, for
+instance, has never locked himself into the dining-room in order to be alone
+with the sherry. On the other hand, all women, and particularly servants, have
+a horror of burglars. And if a burglar gets in by the window, they like to
+limit his activities to that particular room. So they keep the keys on the
+<i>out</i>side of the doors, and lock the doors when they go to bed.&rdquo; He
+knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and added, &ldquo;At least, my mother always
+used to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; said Bill excitedly, &ldquo;that the key was on the
+outside of the door when Mark went into the room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I was just wondering.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you noticed the other rooms&mdash;the billiard-room, and library,
+and so on?&rdquo; said Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve only just thought about it while I&rsquo;ve been sitting out
+here. You live here&mdash;haven&rsquo;t you ever noticed them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can&rsquo;t say that I
+have.&rdquo; He turned to Bill. &ldquo;Have you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord, no. I should never worry about a thing like that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you wouldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; laughed Antony. &ldquo;Well,
+we can have a look when we go in. If the other keys are outside, then this one
+was probably outside too, and in that case&mdash;well, it makes it more
+interesting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley said nothing. Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said, &ldquo;Does
+it make much difference?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there. Take your
+accidental theory and see where you get to. No instinctive turning of the key
+now, is there? He&rsquo;s got to open the door to get it, and opening the door
+means showing his head to anybody in the hall&mdash;his cousin, for instance,
+whom he left there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark&rsquo;s state of mind,
+frightened to death lest he should be found with the body, going to do anything
+so foolhardy as that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He needn&rsquo;t have been afraid of <i>me</i>,&rdquo; said Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then why didn&rsquo;t he call for you? He knew you were about. You could
+have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice. But the whole theory of
+Mark&rsquo;s escape is that he was afraid of you and of everybody else, and
+that he had no other idea but to get out of the room himself, and prevent you
+or the servants from coming into it. If the key had been on the inside, he
+would probably have locked the door. If it were on the outside, he almost
+certainly wouldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I expect you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; said Bill thoughtfully.
+&ldquo;Unless he took the key in with him, and locked the door at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. But in that case you have to build up a new theory
+entirely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; that, certainly. But it also seems to make Mark out an absolute
+idiot. Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons which neither of you
+know anything about, he had wished to get rid of his brother. Would he have
+done it like that? Just killed him and then run away? Why, that&rsquo;s
+practically suicide&mdash;suicide whilst of unsound mind. No. If you really
+wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a little bit more
+cleverly than that. You&rsquo;d begin by treating him as a friend, so as to
+avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at last, you would try to make it
+look like an accident, or suicide, or the work of some other man.
+Wouldn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean you&rsquo;d give yourself a bit of a run for your money?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s what I mean. If you were going to do it deliberately,
+that is to say&mdash;and lock yourself in before you began.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea. With his eyes
+still on the ground, he said now: &ldquo;I hold to my opinion that it was
+purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head and ran away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what about the key?&rdquo; asked Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t know yet that the keys were outside. I don&rsquo;t at all
+agree with Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms are always
+outside the doors. Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I think we shall probably
+find that these are inside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory is
+probably the correct one. Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered&mdash;that&rsquo;s all. You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and
+tell you what I thought. But no doubt you&rsquo;re right, and we shall find
+them inside, as you say.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Even if the key was outside,&rdquo; went on Cayley stubbornly, &ldquo;I
+still think it might have been accidental. He might have taken it in with him,
+knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and not wishing to be
+interrupted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out? Besides, I should think that if a man were going to
+have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation, the last thing he
+would do would be to barricade himself in with him. He would want to open all
+the doors and say, &lsquo;Get out of it!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate. Antony gave a little
+apologetic laugh and stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, come on, Bill,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;we ought to be
+stepping.&rdquo; He held out a hand and pulled his friend up. Then, turning to
+Cayley, he went on, &ldquo;You must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on
+rather. Of course, I was considering the matter purely as an outsider; just as
+a problem, I mean, which didn&rsquo;t concern the happiness of any of my
+friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right, Mr. Gillingham,&rdquo; said Cayley, standing up
+too. &ldquo;It is for you to make allowances for <i>me</i>. I&rsquo;m sure you
+will. You say that you&rsquo;re going up to the inn now about your bag?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland
+stretching about the house. &ldquo;Let me see; it&rsquo;s over in <i>that</i>
+direction, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; He pointed southwards. &ldquo;Can we get to
+the village that way, or must we go by the road?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you, my boy,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bill will show you. The park reaches almost as far as the village. Then
+I&rsquo;ll send the car round in about half an hour.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house. Antony took hold of Bill&rsquo;s
+arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/>
+Portrait of a Gentleman</h2>
+
+<p>
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and gardens
+well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park dipped and then
+rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A thick belt of trees on the
+left divided them from the main road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ever been here before?&rdquo; said Antony suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rather. Dozens of times.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I meant just here&mdash;where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and
+play billiards all the time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh Lord, no!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks never by
+any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the dusty road think
+how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine them doing all sorts of
+jolly things inside.&rdquo; He pointed to the right. &ldquo;Ever been over
+there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, not very much. I&rsquo;ve often been along here, of course,
+because it&rsquo;s the short way to the village.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of things?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners for Men, and tell
+me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying with him, and how many rows
+your little house-party has had this week, and how you get on with Cayley, and
+all the rest of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, are you being the complete detective?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I wanted a new profession,&rdquo; smiled the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What fun! I mean,&rdquo; he corrected himself apologetically, &ldquo;one
+oughtn&rsquo;t to say that, when there&rsquo;s a man dead in the house, and
+one&rsquo;s host&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off a little uncertainly, and then
+rounded off his period by saying again, &ldquo;By Jove, what a rum show it is.
+Good Lord!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;Carry on, Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do I think of him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had never
+formed themselves very definitely in his own mind. What <i>did</i> he think of
+Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken down
+by the reporters, so you needn&rsquo;t bother about a split infinitive or two.
+Talk about anything you like, how you like. Well, I&rsquo;ll give you a start.
+Which do you enjoy more&mdash;a week-end here or at the Barrington&rsquo;s,
+say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well; of course, that would depend&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take it that she was there in both cases.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ass,&rdquo; said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony&rsquo;s ribs.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a little difficult to say,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;Of
+course they do you awfully well here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I don&rsquo;t think I know any house where things are so
+comfortable. One&rsquo;s room&mdash;the
+food&mdash;drinks&mdash;cigars&mdash;the way everything&rsquo;s arranged. All
+that sort of thing. They look after you awfully well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a
+new idea: &ldquo;They look after you awfully well. Well, that&rsquo;s just what
+it is about Mark. That&rsquo;s one of his little ways. Weaknesses. Looking
+after you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arranging things for you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Of course, it&rsquo;s a delightful house, and there&rsquo;s plenty
+to do, and opportunities for every game or sport that&rsquo;s ever been
+invented, and, as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony,
+there&rsquo;s a faint sort of feeling that&mdash;well, that one is on parade,
+as it were. You&rsquo;ve got to do as you&rsquo;re told.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
+things, and it&rsquo;s understood that the guests fall in with the arrangement.
+For instance, Betty&mdash;Miss Calladine&mdash;and I were going to play a
+single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She&rsquo;s frightfully hot
+stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I&rsquo;m rather
+erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us what we
+were going to do. Well, he&rsquo;d got up a little tournament for us after
+tea&mdash;handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out neatly in red
+and black ink&mdash;prizes and all&mdash;quite decent ones, you know.
+He&rsquo;d had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course Betty
+and I wouldn&rsquo;t have spoilt the court, and we&rsquo;d have been quite
+ready to play again after tea&mdash;I had to give her half-fifteen according to
+his handicap&mdash;but somehow&mdash;&rdquo; Bill stopped and shrugged his
+shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It didn&rsquo;t quite fit in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just a
+little, I suppose he felt. So we didn&rsquo;t play.&rdquo; He laughed, and
+added, &ldquo;It would have been as much as our place was worth to have
+played.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean you wouldn&rsquo;t have been asked here again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably. Well, I don&rsquo;t know. Not for some time, anyway.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Really, Bill?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rather! He&rsquo;s a devil for taking offence. That Miss
+Norris&mdash;did you see her&mdash;<i>she&rsquo;s</i> done for herself. I
+don&rsquo;t mind betting what you like that <i>she never</i> comes here
+again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were all in it, really&mdash;at least, Betty and I were.
+There&rsquo;s supposed to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten.
+Ever heard of her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea of
+there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn&rsquo;t
+believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and yet he
+was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in ghosts at all. Rum
+chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris&mdash;she&rsquo;s an actress, some actress
+too&mdash;dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And poor Mark was
+frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about the others?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I&rsquo;d told her&mdash;Miss Norris I
+mean&mdash;not to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn&rsquo;t
+there&mdash;Betty wouldn&rsquo;t let her be. As for the Major, I don&rsquo;t
+believe anything would frighten <i>him</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did the ghost appear?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Down by the bowling-green. That&rsquo;s supposed to be its haunt, you
+know. We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
+you know the bowling-green?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show it to you after dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he&rsquo;s just like
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was he angry with all of you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;sulky, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This morning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no. He got over it&mdash;he generally does. He&rsquo;s just like a
+child. That&rsquo;s really it, Tony; he&rsquo;s like a child in some ways. As a
+matter of fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And
+yesterday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yesterday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather. We all said we&rsquo;d never seen him in such form.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is he generally in form?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
+He&rsquo;s rather vain and childish&mdash;well, like I&rsquo;ve been telling
+you&mdash;and self-important; but quite amusing in his way,
+and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Bill broke off suddenly. &ldquo;I say, you know, it
+really is the limit, talking about your host like this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected
+murderer with a warrant out against him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! but that&rsquo;s all rot, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the fact, Bill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but I mean, he didn&rsquo;t do it. He wouldn&rsquo;t murder
+anybody. It&rsquo;s a funny thing to say, but&mdash;well, he&rsquo;s not big
+enough for it. He&rsquo;s got his faults, like all of us, but they aren&rsquo;t
+on that scale.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. &ldquo;All the same,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I
+mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
+run away?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill considered for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
+the ghost. Of course, that&rsquo;s different, rather.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t know. In each case it&rsquo;s a question of obeying
+your instinct instead of your reason.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the bordering
+trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped behind, and further
+conversation was postponed until they were outside the boundary fence and in
+the high road. The road sloped gently down to the village of Woodham&mdash;a
+few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of a church showing above the
+green.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now,&rdquo; said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly,
+&ldquo;what about Cayley?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean, what about him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You
+were wonderful. Now let&rsquo;s have Cayley&rsquo;s character. Cayley from
+within.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a blooming
+novelist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Besides,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;Mark&rsquo;s easy. Cayley&rsquo;s one
+of these heavy, quiet people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives
+himself away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some women like that type of ugliness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true. Between ourselves, I think there&rsquo;s one
+here who does. Rather a pretty girl at Jallands&rdquo;&mdash;he waved his left
+hand&mdash;&ldquo;down that way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s Jallands?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it&rsquo;s a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss
+Norbury&mdash;the girl&mdash;has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to
+prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn&rsquo;t much time for
+that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she&rsquo;s been to
+any theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark kept him busy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something
+for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily enough,
+Cayley seemed lost without Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was fond of him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He&rsquo;d sized Mark
+up, of course&mdash;his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all
+the rest of it&mdash;but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to manage
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests&mdash;you and Miss
+Norris and all of them?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself. We
+didn&rsquo;t see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to enjoy
+ourselves, and&mdash;well, <i>he</i> wasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He wasn&rsquo;t there when the ghost walked?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I
+expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls will be
+girls....&mdash;Hallo, here we are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to the landlady,
+Antony went upstairs to his room. It appeared that he had not very much packing
+to do, after all. He returned his brushes to his bag, glanced round to see that
+nothing else had been taken out, and went down again to settle his bill. He had
+decided to keep on his room for a few days; partly to save the landlord and his
+wife the disappointment of losing a guest so suddenly, partly in case he found
+it undesirable later on to remain at the Red House. For he was taking himself
+seriously as a detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while getting all
+the fun out of it which was possible) at every new profession he adopted; and
+he felt that there might come a time&mdash;after the inquest&mdash;say when he
+could not decently remain at the Red House as a guest, a friend of
+Bill&rsquo;s, enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley, whichever was to be
+regarded as his host, without forfeiting his independent attitude towards the
+events of that afternoon. At present he was staying in the house merely as a
+necessary witness, and, since he was there, Cayley could not object to him
+using his eyes; but if, after the inquest, it appeared that there was still
+work for a pair of independent and very keen eyes to do, then he must
+investigate, either with his host&rsquo;s approval or from beneath the roof of
+some other host; the landlord of &lsquo;The George,&rsquo; for instance, who
+had no feelings in the matter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For of one thing Antony was certain. Cayley knew more than he professed to
+know. That is to say, he knew more than he wanted other people to know he knew.
+Antony was one of the &ldquo;other people&rdquo;; if, therefore, he was for
+trying to find out what it was that Cayley knew, he could hardly expect
+Cayley&rsquo;s approval of his labours. It would be &lsquo;The George,&rsquo;
+then, for Antony after the inquest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was the truth? Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even though he
+were hiding something. All that could be said against him at the moment was
+that he had gone the longest way round to get into the locked office&mdash;and
+that this did not fit in with what he had told the Inspector. But it did fit in
+with the theory that he had been an accessory after the event, and that he
+wanted (while appearing to be in a hurry) to give his cousin as much time as
+possible in which to escape. That might not be the true solution, but it was at
+least a workable one. The theory which he had suggested to the Inspector was
+not.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which Antony could
+consider all these matters from within The Red House. The car was at the door.
+He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on the front seat next to the
+chauffeur, and they drove back.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/>
+&ldquo;Do You Follow Me, Watson?&rdquo;</h2>
+
+<p>
+Antony&rsquo;s bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner, and at
+various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the window, sometimes
+smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned over in his mind all the
+strange things that he had seen that day. He was sitting on his bed, in shirt
+and trousers, absently smoothing down his thick black hair with his brushes,
+when Bill shouted an &ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; through the door, and came in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, buck up, old boy, I&rsquo;m hungry,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Mark?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark? You mean Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. &ldquo;Yes, I mean Cayley. Is he
+down? I say, I shan&rsquo;t be a moment, Bill.&rdquo; He got up from the bed
+and went on briskly with his dressing. &ldquo;Oh, by the way,&rdquo; said Bill,
+taking his place on the bed, &ldquo;your idea about the keys is a
+wash-out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, how do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
+thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the others
+are inside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did, Bill,&rdquo; said Antony apologetically.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bother! I hoped you&rsquo;d forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on
+the head, doesn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never had a theory. I only said that <i>if</i> they were outside, it
+would probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that case
+Cayley&rsquo;s theory was knocked on the head.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now, it isn&rsquo;t, and we don&rsquo;t know anything. Some were
+outside and some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting.
+When you were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the idea
+of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to be exciting enough,&rdquo; said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s come down; I&rsquo;m ready now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry as to the
+guest&rsquo;s comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual conversation
+about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were quite right about the keys,&rdquo; said Bill, during a pause.
+He was less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than they,
+to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds of them all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Keys?&rdquo; said Cayley blankly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were wondering whether they were outside or inside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! oh, yes!&rdquo; He looked slowly round the hall, at the different
+doors, and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony. &ldquo;We both seem to have
+been right, Mr. Gillingham. So we don&rsquo;t get much farther.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo; He gave a shrug. &ldquo;I just wondered, you know. I thought
+it was worth mentioning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, quite. Not that you would have convinced me, you know. Just as
+Elsie&rsquo;s evidence doesn&rsquo;t convince me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Elsie?&rdquo; said Bill excitedly. Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of the housemaids,&rdquo; explained Cayley. &ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t
+hear what she told the Inspector? Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that
+class make things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it?&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door that
+afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were in the library then, of course,&rdquo; said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other. &ldquo;She might have gone through the hall without
+your hearing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;ve no doubt she was there, and heard voices. Perhaps heard
+those very words. But&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off, and then added impatiently,
+&ldquo;It was accidental. I know it was accidental. What&rsquo;s the good of
+talking as if Mark was a murderer?&rdquo; Dinner was announced at that moment,
+and as they went in, he added, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of talking about it
+at all, if it comes to that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, indeed?&rdquo; said Antony, and to Bill&rsquo;s great
+disappointment they talked of books and politics during the meal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were alight. He
+had business to attend to, as was natural. Bill would look after his friend.
+Bill was only too willing. He offered to beat Antony at billiards, to play him
+at piquet, to show him the garden by moonlight, or indeed to do anything else
+with him that he required.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank the Lord you&rsquo;re here,&rdquo; he said piously. &ldquo;I
+couldn&rsquo;t have stood it alone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go outside,&rdquo; suggested Antony. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite
+warm. Somewhere where we can sit down, right away from the house. I want to
+talk to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good man. What about the bowling-green?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren&rsquo;t you? Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather. The ideal place. You&rsquo;ll see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left. Coming from
+Woodham, Antony had approached the house that afternoon from the other side.
+The way they were going now would take them out at the opposite end of the
+park, on the high road to Stanton, a country town some three miles away. They
+passed by a gate and a gardener&rsquo;s lodge, which marked the limit of what
+auctioneers like to call &ldquo;the ornamental grounds of the estate,&rdquo;
+and then the open park was before them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure we haven&rsquo;t missed it?&rdquo; said Antony. The park lay
+quietly in the moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way
+ahead of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rum, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;An absurd place for a
+bowling green, but I suppose it was always here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but always where? It&rsquo;s short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but&mdash;Hallo!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had come to the place. The road bent round to the right, but they kept
+straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and there in front of
+them was the green. A dry ditch, ten feet wide and six feet deep, surrounded
+it, except in the one place where the path went forward. Two or three grass
+steps led down to the green, on which there was a long wooden bench for the
+benefit of spectators.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it hides itself very nicely,&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;Where do
+you keep the bowls?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In a sort of summer house place. Round here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it&mdash;a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m. Jolly view.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nobody sits there. It&rsquo;s just for keeping things out of the
+rain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They finished their circuit of the green&mdash;&ldquo;Just in case
+anybody&rsquo;s in the ditch,&rdquo; said Antony&mdash;and then sat down on the
+bench.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;We are alone. Fire ahead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little. Then he took his pipe out of his mouth
+and turned to his friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watson?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one. Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me chances of
+scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your own two or three days
+after I have made them myself&mdash;all that kind of thing? Because it all
+helps.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tony,&rdquo; said Bill delightedly, &ldquo;need you ask?&rdquo;
+Antony said nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, &ldquo;I perceive
+from the strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert. Holmes, you astonish me. Tut, tut, you know my methods. Where is the
+tobacco? The tobacco is in the Persian slipper. Can I leave my practice for a
+week? I can.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smiled and went on smoking. After waiting hopefully for a minute or two,
+Bill said in a firm voice:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced anything.
+Also whom do you suspect?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony began to talk.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you remember,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;one of Holmes&rsquo;s little
+scores over Watson about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging?
+Poor old Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he had never
+thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them as a matter of
+course, and knew that there were seventeen. And that was supposed to be the
+difference between observation and non-observation. Watson was crushed again,
+and Holmes appeared to him more amazing than ever. Now, it always seemed to me
+that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and Watson the sensible person. What on
+earth is the point of keeping in your head an unnecessary fact like that? If
+you really want to know at any time the number of steps to your lodging, you
+can ring up your landlady and ask her. I&rsquo;ve been up and down the steps of
+the club a thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how
+many steps there are I couldn&rsquo;t do it. Could you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I certainly couldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But if you really wanted to know,&rdquo; said Antony casually, with a
+sudden change of voice, &ldquo;I could find out for you without even bothering
+to ring up the hall-porter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps, but he felt
+it his duty to say that he did want to know how many they were.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll find out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He closed his eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m walking up St. James&rsquo; Street,&rdquo; he said slowly.
+&ldquo;Now I&rsquo;ve come to the club and I&rsquo;m going past the
+smoking-room&mdash;windows&mdash;one&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;four. Now
+I&rsquo;m at the steps. I turn in and begin going up them.
+One&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;four&mdash;five&mdash;six, then a broad step;
+six&mdash;seven&mdash;eight&mdash;nine, another broad step;
+nine&mdash;ten&mdash;eleven. Eleven&mdash;I&rsquo;m inside. Good morning,
+Rogers. Fine day again.&rdquo; With a little start he opened his eyes and came
+back again to his present surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile.
+&ldquo;Eleven,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Count them the next time you&rsquo;re
+there. Eleven and now I hope I shall forget it again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s rather hot,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Expound.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I can&rsquo;t explain it, whether it&rsquo;s something in the
+actual eye, or something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an
+uncanny habit of recording things unconsciously. You know that game where you
+look at a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then turn away and
+try to make a list of them. It means a devil of a lot of concentration for the
+ordinary person, if he wants to get his list complete, but in some odd way I
+manage to do it without concentration at all. I mean that my eyes seem to do it
+without the brain consciously taking any part. I could look at the tray, for
+instance, and talk to you about golf at the same time, and still get my list
+right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should think that&rsquo;s rather a useful gift for an amateur
+detective. You ought to have gone into the profession before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it is rather useful. It&rsquo;s rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger. Let&rsquo;s surprise Cayley with it, shall we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s ask him&mdash;&rdquo; Antony stopped and looked at
+Bill comically, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s ask him what he&rsquo;s going to do with the
+key of the office.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Key of the office?&rdquo; he said vaguely. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t
+mean&mdash;Tony! What do you mean? Good God! do you mean that Cayley&mdash;But
+what about Mark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where Mark is&mdash;that&rsquo;s another thing I want
+to know&mdash;but I&rsquo;m quite certain that he hasn&rsquo;t got the key of
+the office with him. Because Cayley&rsquo;s got it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you sure?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; he said, almost pleadingly, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t tell me
+that you can see into people&rsquo;s pockets and all that sort of
+thing&mdash;as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then how do you know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the perfect Watson, Bill. You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn&rsquo;t to explain till the last chapter, but I
+always think that that&rsquo;s so unfair. So here goes. Of course, I
+don&rsquo;t really know that he&rsquo;s got it, but I do know that he had it. I
+know that when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked the door and
+put the key in his pocket.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean you saw him at the time, but that you&rsquo;ve only just
+remembered it&mdash;reconstructed it&mdash;in the way you were explaining just
+now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I didn&rsquo;t see him. But I did see something. I saw the key of
+the billiard-room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Outside the billiard-room door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Out</i>side? But it was inside when we looked just now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who put it there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Obviously Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go back to this afternoon. I don&rsquo;t remember noticing
+the billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit. Something like
+that, I daresay. Well, when I was sitting out by myself on that seat just
+before you came along, I went over the whole scene in my mind, and I suddenly
+saw the billiard-room key there&mdash;outside. And I began to wonder if the
+office-key had been outside too. When Cayley came up, I told you my idea and
+you were both interested. But Cayley was just a shade too interested. I daresay
+you didn&rsquo;t notice it, but he was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn&rsquo;t
+really prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other keys were,
+Mark might have locked his own private room from the inside sometimes. But I
+piled it on, and pretended that it was enormously important, and quite altered
+the case altogether, and having got Cayley thoroughly anxious about it, I told
+him that we should be well out of the way for the next hour or so, and that he
+would be alone in the house to do what he liked about it. And, as I expected,
+he couldn&rsquo;t resist it. He altered the keys and gave himself away
+entirely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But the library key was still outside. Why didn&rsquo;t he alter
+that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because he&rsquo;s a clever devil. For one thing, the Inspector had been
+in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already. And for
+another&mdash;&rdquo; Antony hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s only guesswork. But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset
+about the key business. He suddenly realized that he had been careless, and he
+hadn&rsquo;t got time to think it all over. So he didn&rsquo;t want to commit
+himself definitely to the statement that the key was either outside or inside.
+He wanted to leave it vague. It was safest that way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Bill slowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But his mind was elsewhere. He was wondering suddenly about Cayley. Cayley was
+just an ordinary man&mdash;like himself. Bill had had little jokes with him
+sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at joking. Bill had helped him to
+sausages, played tennis with him, borrowed his tobacco, lent him a putter....
+and here was Antony saying that he was&mdash;what? Well, not an ordinary man,
+anyway. A man with a secret. Perhaps a&mdash;a murderer. No, not a murderer;
+not Cayley. That was rot, anyway. Why, they had played tennis together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then, Watson,&rdquo; said Antony suddenly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s time
+you said something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Tony, do you really mean it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mean what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean what I said, Bill. No more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what does it amount to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and that
+Cayley knows exactly how he died. That&rsquo;s all. It doesn&rsquo;t follow
+that Cayley killed him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. No, of course it doesn&rsquo;t.&rdquo; Bill gave a sigh of relief.
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s just shielding Mark, what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, isn&rsquo;t that the simplest explanation?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the simplest if you&rsquo;re a friend of Cayley and want to
+let him down lightly. But then I&rsquo;m not, you see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why isn&rsquo;t it simple, anyhow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s have the explanation then, and I&rsquo;ll undertake to
+give you a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember&mdash;the key is on the
+outside of the door to start with.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; well, I don&rsquo;t mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and
+they quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley hears
+the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the door, puts the
+key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the door, and that he
+can&rsquo;t get in. How&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hopeless, Watson, hopeless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
+other way round?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Bill, rather upset. &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He thought for a
+moment, &ldquo;All right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and
+seen Robert on the ground.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, there you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what does he say to Mark? That it&rsquo;s a fine afternoon; and
+could he lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what&rsquo;s
+happened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened,&rdquo; said Bill
+reluctantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what does Mark say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a
+struggle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whereupon Cayley shields him by&mdash;by doing what, Bill? Encouraging
+him to do the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do&mdash;confess
+his guilt by running away!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, that&rsquo;s rather hopeless, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; Bill thought
+again. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said reluctantly, &ldquo;suppose Mark confessed
+that he&rsquo;d murdered his brother?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s better, Bill. Don&rsquo;t be afraid of getting away from
+the accident idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley
+that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
+committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to escape.
+Is that right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as I
+said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic murder&mdash;a
+murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck? Secondly, if Cayley
+is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway, now),
+wouldn&rsquo;t it be simpler for him to say that he was in the office all the
+time, and that Robert&rsquo;s death was accidental?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Now
+let&rsquo;s have yours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
+different.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/>
+Possibilities of a Croquet Set</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; said Bill sharply.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve thought of something suddenly,&rdquo; said Bill.
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Watson,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you aren&rsquo;t supposed to be
+as clever as this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you can&rsquo;t take <i>me</i> in!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
+to me&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, <i>that!</i>&rdquo; Bill was profoundly disappointed. &ldquo;What on
+earth has the ghost got to do with it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; said Antony apologetically. &ldquo;I
+don&rsquo;t know what anything has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You
+shouldn&rsquo;t have brought me here if you hadn&rsquo;t wanted me to think
+about the ghost. This is where she appeared, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Bill was distinctly short about it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said, &lsquo;How?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How? How <i>do</i> ghosts appear? I don&rsquo;t know. They just
+appear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Over four or five hundred yards of open park?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one&mdash;Lady Anne, you know&mdash;was supposed to walk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did Miss
+Norris appear suddenly&mdash;over five hundred yards of bare park?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he stammered. &ldquo;We never thought
+of that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You would have seen her long before, wouldn&rsquo;t you, if she had come
+the way we came?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course we should.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that would have spoilt it rather. You would have had time to
+recognize her walk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was interested now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s rather funny, you know, Tony. We none of us thought of
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re sure she didn&rsquo;t come across the park when none of you
+were looking?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite. Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we kept
+looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be playing with our
+backs to her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You and Miss Calladine were playing together?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, however do you know that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brilliant deductive reasoning. Well, then you suddenly saw her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn.&rdquo; He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She couldn&rsquo;t have been hiding in the ditch? Do you call it the
+moat, by the way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark does. We don&rsquo;t among ourselves. No, she couldn&rsquo;t. Betty
+and I were here before the others, and walked round a bit. We should have seen
+her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then she must have been hiding in the shed. Or do you call it the
+summer-house?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We had to go there for the bowls, of course. She couldn&rsquo;t have
+been there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s dashed funny,&rdquo; said Bill, after an interval for
+thought. &ldquo;But it doesn&rsquo;t matter, does it? It has nothing to do with
+Robert.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, <i>has</i> it?&rdquo; said Bill, getting excited again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. We don&rsquo;t know what has, or what hasn&rsquo;t.
+But it <i>has</i> got something to do with Miss Norris. And Miss
+Norris&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you&rsquo;re all in it in a kind of way. And if something
+unaccountable happens to one of you a day or two before something unaccountable
+happens to the whole house, one is&mdash;well, interested.&rdquo; It was a good
+enough reason, but it wasn&rsquo;t the reason he had been on the point of
+giving.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, let&rsquo;s find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! Do you mean there&rsquo;s a secret passage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A secluded passage, anyway. There must be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, what fun! I love secret passages. Good Lord, and this afternoon I
+was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant! What a life! Secret
+passages!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They made their way down into the ditch. If an opening was to be found which
+led to the house, it would probably be on the house side of the green, and on
+the outside of the ditch. The most obvious place at which to begin the search
+was the shed where the bowls were kept. It was a tidy place&mdash;as anything
+in Mark&rsquo;s establishment would be. There were two boxes of croquet things,
+one of them with the lid open, as if the balls and mallets and hoops (neatly
+enough put away, though) had been recently used; a box of bowls, a small
+lawn-mower, a roller and so forth. A seat ran along the back of it, whereon the
+bowls-players could sit when it rained.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn&rsquo;t sound very
+hollow, does it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It needn&rsquo;t begin here at all, need it?&rdquo; said Bill, walking
+round with bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too tall to
+stand upright in the shed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one reason why it should, and that is that it would
+save us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark didn&rsquo;t
+let you play croquet on his bowling-green?&rdquo; He pointed to the croquet
+things.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather
+keen about it. There&rsquo;s really nowhere else to play. Personally I hate the
+game. He wasn&rsquo;t very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked calling it the
+bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I love you on Mark,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+priceless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then suddenly
+stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment he stood listening, with his
+head on one side, holding up a finger to bid Bill listen too.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; whispered Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very quietly he went down
+on his knees, and listened again. Then he put his ear to the floor. He got up
+and dusted himself quickly, walked across to Bill and whispered in his ear:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and stepped firmly
+across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to himself. He took the bowls out,
+dropped one with a loud bang on the floor, said, &ldquo;Oh, Lord!&rdquo; and
+went on:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, Bill, I don&rsquo;t think I want to play bowls, after all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, why did you say you did?&rdquo; grumbled Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don&rsquo;t want
+to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then what <i>do</i> you want to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Talk.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, right-<i>o!</i>&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a seat on the lawn&mdash;I saw it. Let&rsquo;s bring these
+things along in case we want to play, after all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right-o!&rdquo; said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Got a match?&rdquo; he said loudly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, &ldquo;There&rsquo;ll be
+somebody listening to us. You take the Cayley view,&rdquo; and then went on in
+his ordinary voice, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think much of your matches,
+Bill,&rdquo; and struck another. They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What a heavenly night!&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ripping.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a rum business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You agree with Cayley&mdash;that it was an accident?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. You see, I know Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;H&rsquo;m.&rdquo; Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and
+began to write on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked. He said that he
+thought Mark had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley knew, or
+anyhow guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a chance of getting away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mind you, I think he&rsquo;s right. I think it&rsquo;s what any of us
+would do. I shan&rsquo;t give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or
+two little things which make me think that Mark really did shoot his
+brother&mdash;I mean other than accidentally.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Murdered him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it&rsquo;s not
+my business.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why do you think so? Because of the keys?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of mine,
+wasn&rsquo;t it? And it would have been rather a score for me if they
+<i>had</i> all been outside.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill. In the
+clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily be read:
+</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND AS IF
+I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you don&rsquo;t agree with me,&rdquo; Antony went on as Bill
+read, &ldquo;but you&rsquo;ll see that I&rsquo;m right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and Betty and all the
+other things which had made up his world lately. This was the real thing. This
+was life. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he began deliberately, &ldquo;the whole point is
+that I know Mark. Now, Mark&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into the ditch. His
+intention was to crawl round it until the shed came in sight. The footsteps
+which he had heard seemed to be underneath the shed; probably there was a
+trap-door of some kind in the floor. Whoever it was would have heard their
+voices, and would probably think it worth while to listen to what they were
+saying. He might do this merely by opening the door a little without showing
+himself, in which case Antony would have found the entrance to the passage
+without any trouble to himself. But when Bill turned his head and talked over
+the back of the seat, it was probable that the listener would find it necessary
+to put his head outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able to
+discover who it was. Moreover, if he should venture out of his hiding-place
+altogether and peep at them over the top of the bank, the fact that Bill was
+talking over the back of the seat would mislead the watcher into thinking that
+Antony was still there, sitting on the grass, no doubt, behind the seat,
+swinging his legs over the side of the ditch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the bowling-green
+to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and then went even more carefully
+along the width of it to the second corner. He could hear Bill hard at it,
+arguing from his knowledge of Mark&rsquo;s character that this, that and the
+other must have happened, and he smiled appreciatively to himself. Bill was a
+great conspirator worth a hundred Watsons. As he approached the second corner
+he slowed down, and did the last few yards on hands and knees. Then, lying at
+full length, inch by inch his head went round the corner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of the ditch.
+From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it. Everything seemed to
+be as they left it. The bowls-box, the lawn-mower, the roller, the open
+croquet-box, the&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; said Antony to himself, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s neat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too. Bill was turning round now; his
+voice became more difficult to hear. &ldquo;You see what I mean,&rdquo; he was
+saying. &ldquo;If Cayley&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley&rsquo;s black head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony wanted to shout his applause. It was neat, devilish neat. For a moment
+he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of croquet-ball which had
+appeared so dramatically out of the box, and then reluctantly wriggled himself
+back. There was nothing to be gained by staying there, and a good deal to be
+lost, for Bill showed signs of running down. As quickly as he could Antony
+hurried round the ditch and took up his place at the back of the seat. Then he
+stood up with a yawn, stretched himself and said carelessly, &ldquo;Well,
+don&rsquo;t worry yourself about it, Bill, old man. I daresay you&rsquo;re
+right. You know Mark, and I don&rsquo;t; and that&rsquo;s the difference. Shall
+we have a game or shall we go to bed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, &ldquo;Oh, just
+let&rsquo;s have one game, shall we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very seriously.
+Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing but bowls. He
+played with great deliberation for ten minutes, and then announced that he was
+going to bed. Bill looked at him anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; laughed Antony. &ldquo;You can talk if you
+want to. Just let&rsquo;s put &rsquo;em away first, though.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting the bowls
+away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box. As he expected, it was
+locked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said Bill, as they were walking back to the house
+again, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m simply bursting to know. Who was it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord! Where?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Inside one of the croquet-boxes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be an ass.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s quite true, Bill.&rdquo; He told the other what he had seen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But aren&rsquo;t we going to have a look at it?&rdquo; asked Bill, in
+great disappointment. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m longing to explore. Aren&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow. We shall see Cayley coming along
+this way directly. Besides, I want to get in from the other end, if I can. I
+doubt very much if we can do it this end without giving ourselves away. Look,
+there&rsquo;s Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them. When they were a little
+closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wondered where you were,&rdquo; he said, as he got up to them.
+&ldquo;I rather thought you might be along this way. What about bed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bed it is,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve been playing bowls,&rdquo; added Bill, &ldquo;and talking,
+and&mdash;and playing bowls. Ripping night, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to the house,
+to Antony. He wanted to think. There seemed to be no doubt now that Cayley was
+a villain. Bill had never been familiar with a villain before. It didn&rsquo;t
+seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking rather a mean advantage of
+his friends. Lot of funny people there were in the world&mdash;funny people
+with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time he had met him in a
+tobacconist&rsquo;s shop. Anybody would have thought he was a
+tobacconist&rsquo;s assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought that
+Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person. And Mark. Dash it! one could
+never be sure of anybody. Now, Robert was different. Everybody had always said
+that Robert was a shady fellow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it? What had Miss Norris got
+to do with it? This was a question which Antony had already asked himself that
+afternoon, and it seemed to him now that he had found the answer. As he lay in
+bed that night he reassembled his ideas, and looked at them in the new light
+which the events of the evening threw upon the dark corners in his brain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his guests as
+soon as the tragedy was discovered. He would want this for their own sake as
+well as for his. But he had been a little too quick about suggesting it, and
+about seeing the suggestion carried out. They had been bustled off as soon as
+they could be packed. The suggestion that they were in his hands, to go or stay
+as he wished, could have been left safely to them. As it was, they had been
+given no alternative, and Miss Norris, who had proposed to catch an
+after-dinner train at the junction, in the obvious hope that she might have in
+this way a dramatic cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed detective,
+was encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the earlier train with
+the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the tragedy which had suddenly
+befallen the house, ought to have been equally indifferent to her presence or
+absence. But he was not; and Antony assumed from this that Cayley was very much
+alive to the necessity for her absence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand. But the fact that it was
+so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for this reason that he had
+followed up so alertly Bill&rsquo;s casual mention of her in connection with
+the dressing-up business. He felt that he wanted to know a little more about
+Miss Norris and the part she had played in the Red House circle. By sheer luck,
+as it seemed to him, he had stumbled on the answer to his question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert&rsquo;s
+death. Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic appearance as
+the ghost. Possibly she had discovered it for herself; possibly Mark had
+revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing that she would make so
+unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley, having been let into the joke of
+the dressing-up, had shown her how she could make her appearance on the
+bowling-green even more mysterious and supernatural. One way or another, she
+knew about the secret passage. So she must be hurried away.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why? Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent mention of
+it. And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Why, again? Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge of its
+existence, might provide a clue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if Mark&rsquo;s hiding there,&rdquo; thought Antony; and he
+went to sleep.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/>
+Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense</h2>
+
+<p>
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and found
+that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters and nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any word of Mr. Ablett&mdash;of Mark?&rdquo; said Antony, as he poured
+out his coffee.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Is there a lake?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley&rsquo;s face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s really a pond,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but it was called
+&lsquo;the lake.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Mark,&rdquo; thought Antony. Aloud he said, &ldquo;What do they
+expect to find?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They think that Mark&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off and shrugged his
+shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn&rsquo;t get away? And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; I suppose so,&rdquo; said Cayley slowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for his
+money. After all, he had a revolver. If he was determined not to be taken
+alive, he could always have prevented that. Couldn&rsquo;t he have caught a
+train to London before the police knew anything about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He might just have managed it. There <i>was</i> a train. They would have
+noticed him at Woodham, of course, but he might have managed it at Stanton.
+He&rsquo;s not so well-known there, naturally. The inspector has been
+inquiring. Nobody seems to have seen him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on. There was
+never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who swear to have seen
+him at a dozen different places at the same time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. That&rsquo;s true. Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first.&rdquo;
+He added dryly, &ldquo;From what I&rsquo;ve read of detective stories,
+inspectors always do want to drag the pond first.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it deep?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite deep enough,&rdquo; said Cayley as he got up. On his way to the
+door he stopped, and looked at Antony. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so sorry that
+we&rsquo;re keeping you here like this, but it will only be until to-morrow.
+The inquest is to-morrow afternoon. Do amuse yourself how you like till then.
+Beverley will look after you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors liked
+dragging ponds, but the question was, did Cayleys like having them dragged? Was
+Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He certainly did not seem to be
+anxious, but he could hide his feelings very easily beneath that heavy, solid
+face, and it was not often that the real Cayley peeped out. Just a little too
+eager once or twice, perhaps, but there was nothing to be learnt from it this
+morning. Perhaps he knew that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all,
+inspectors were always dragging ponds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill came in noisily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill&rsquo;s face was an open book. Excitement was written all over it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the
+meal, &ldquo;what are we going to do this morning?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not talk so loudly, for one thing,&rdquo; said Antony. Bill looked about
+him apprehensively. Was Cayley under the table, for example? After last night
+one never knew.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is&mdash;er&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He raised his eyebrows.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. But one doesn&rsquo;t want to shout. One should modulate the voice,
+my dear William, while breathing gently from the hips. Thus one avoids those
+chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret. In other words, pass the
+toast.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You seem bright this morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, &lsquo;Were it not
+that I have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee. Fain
+would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little hills. But the
+waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch tarries outside with his
+shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will attend thee anon. Farewell, a
+long farewell to all&mdash;thy grape-nuts.&rsquo; He then left up-centre. Enter
+W. Beverley, R.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you often like this at breakfast?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. Exit W. Beverley,
+L.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a touch of the sun, I suppose,&rdquo; said Bill, shaking his
+head sadly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do you know
+anything about Orion&rsquo;s Belt, for instance? And why isn&rsquo;t there a
+star called Beverley&rsquo;s Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Re-enter W.
+Beverley through trap-door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Talking about trap-doors&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Antony, getting up. &ldquo;Some talk of
+Alexander and some of Hercules, but nobody talks about&mdash;what&rsquo;s the
+Latin for trap-door?&mdash;<i>Mensa</i>&mdash;a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr.
+Beverley,&rdquo;&mdash;and he slapped him heartily on the back as he went past
+him&mdash;&ldquo;I shall see you later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but
+so far you have not made me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing when
+you have finished your breakfast. But don&rsquo;t hurry. Let the upper
+mandibles have time to do the work.&rdquo; With those words Mr. Gillingham then
+left the spacious apartment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not know
+that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind him; not
+listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within sight of Antony,
+who was not going to take any risks. So he went on with his breakfast,
+reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if he had dreamed only
+of the amazing things which had happened the day before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by a
+housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he remembered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it Elsie?&rdquo; he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it
+was that she had achieved such notoriety.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn&rsquo;t it? I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, thank you, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;It&rsquo;s <i>my</i> turn now. You wait,&rsquo;&rdquo; murmured
+Antony to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what I heard, sir. Truly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I wonder. I wonder why.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why what, sir?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she stopped
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes. To-morrow, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course. There&rsquo;s nothing to be frightened of.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did hear it, sir. Truly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, of course you did. Who says you didn&rsquo;t?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some of the others, sir&mdash;Mrs. Stevens and all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s just because they&rsquo;re jealous,&rdquo; said Antony
+with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once the
+immense importance of her evidence. To the Inspector no doubt it had seemed
+only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have adopted something of a
+threatening attitude towards his brother. To Antony it had much more
+significance. It was the only trustworthy evidence that Mark had been in the
+office at all that afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For who saw Mark go into the office? Only Cayley. And if Cayley had been hiding
+the truth about the keys, why should he not be hiding the truth about
+Mark&rsquo;s entry into the office? Obviously all Cayley&rsquo;s evidence went
+for nothing. Some of it no doubt was true; but he was giving it, both truth and
+falsehood, with a purpose. What the purpose was Antony did not know as
+yet&mdash;to shield Mark, to shield himself&mdash;even to betray Mark&mdash;it
+might be any of these. But since his evidence was given for his own ends, it
+was impossible that it could be treated as the evidence of an impartial and
+trustworthy onlooker. Such, for instance, as Elsie appeared to be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Elsie&rsquo;s evidence, however, seemed to settle the point. Mark had gone into
+the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both talking; and then
+Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert.... and the Inspector was going
+to drag the pond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But certainly Elsie&rsquo;s evidence did not prove anything more than the mere
+presence of Mark in the room. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s my turn now; you wait.&rdquo;
+That was not an immediate threat;&mdash;it was a threat for the future. If Mark
+had shot his brother immediately afterwards it must have been an accident, the
+result of a struggle, say, provoked by that &ldquo;nasty-like&rdquo; tone of
+voice. Nobody would say &ldquo;You wait&rdquo; to a man who was just going to
+be shot. &ldquo;You wait&rdquo; meant &ldquo;You wait, and see what&rsquo;s
+going to happen to you later on.&rdquo; The owner of the Red House had had
+enough of his brother&rsquo;s sponging, his brother&rsquo;s blackmail; now it
+was Mark&rsquo;s turn to get a bit of his own back. Let Robert just wait a bit,
+and he would see. The conversation which Elsie had overheard might have meant
+something like this. It couldn&rsquo;t have meant murder. Anyway not murder of
+Robert by Mark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a funny business,&rdquo; thought Antony. &ldquo;The one
+obvious solution is so easy and yet so wrong. And I&rsquo;ve got a hundred
+things in my head, and I can&rsquo;t fit them together. And this afternoon will
+make a hundred and one. I mustn&rsquo;t forget this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll. Bill was only too ready.
+&ldquo;Where do you want to go?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t mind much. Show me the park.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked out together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Watson, old man,&rdquo; said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, &ldquo;you really mustn&rsquo;t talk so loudly indoors. There was a
+gentleman outside, just behind you, all the time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I say,&rdquo; said Bill, going pink. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m awfully sorry.
+So that&rsquo;s why you were talking such rot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Partly, yes. And partly because I do feel rather bright this morning.
+We&rsquo;re going to have a busy day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are we really? What are we going to do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re going to drag the pond&mdash;beg its pardon, the lake.
+Where is the lake?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re on the way to it now, if you&rsquo;d like to see it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We may as well look at it. Do you haunt the lake much in the ordinary
+way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, rather not. There&rsquo;s nothing to do there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can&rsquo;t bathe?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I shouldn&rsquo;t care to. Too dirty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn&rsquo;t it? The way to
+the village?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. We go off a bit to the right directly. What are they dragging it
+for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rot,&rdquo; said Bill uneasily. He was silent for a little, and
+then, forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance of the
+exciting times they were having, said eagerly, &ldquo;I say, when are we going
+to look for that passage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t do very much while Cayley&rsquo;s in the house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about this afternoon when they&rsquo;re dragging the pond?
+He&rsquo;s sure to be there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s something I <i>must</i> do this afternoon,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Of course we might have time for both.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I think he ought to be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, is it anything rather exciting?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. It might be rather interesting. I daresay I could do
+it at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o&rsquo;clock, somehow.
+I&rsquo;ve been specially keeping it back for then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, what fun! You <i>do</i> want me, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I do. Only, Bill don&rsquo;t talk about things <i>in</i>side
+the house, unless I begin. There&rsquo;s a good Watson.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I won&rsquo;t. I swear I won&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had come to the pond&mdash;Mark&rsquo;s lake&mdash;and they walked
+silently round it. When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the grass,
+and relit his pipe. Bill followed his example.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Mark isn&rsquo;t there,&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;At least, I don&rsquo;t quite see why you
+know he isn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t &lsquo;knowing,&rsquo; it&rsquo;s
+&lsquo;guessing,&rsquo;&rdquo; said Antony rapidly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s much
+easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark had wanted to
+shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not letting the body be found,
+he&rsquo;d have put big stones in his pockets, and the only big stones are near
+the water&rsquo;s edge, and they would have left marks, and they haven&rsquo;t,
+and therefore he didn&rsquo;t, and&mdash;oh, bother the pond; that can wait
+till this afternoon. Bill, where does the secret passage begin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what we&rsquo;ve got to find out, isn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. You see, my idea is this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage was
+concerned in some way with the secret of Robert&rsquo;s death, and went on:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago&mdash;the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet. The passage came out into the floor
+of the shed, and probably it was Cayley&rsquo;s idea to put a croquet-box over
+the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely. You know, when once
+you&rsquo;ve discovered a secret yourself, it always seems as if it must be so
+obvious to everybody else. I can imagine that Mark loved having this little
+secret all to himself&mdash;and to Cayley, of course, but Cayley wouldn&rsquo;t
+count&mdash;and they must have had great fun fixing it up, and making it more
+difficult for other people to find out. Well then, when Miss Norris was going
+to dress-up, Cayley gave it away. Probably he told her that she could never get
+down to the bowling-green without being discovered, and then perhaps showed
+that he knew there was one way in which she could do it, and she wormed the
+secret out of him somehow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But this was two or three days before Robert turned up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about the
+passage in the first place. It was just a little private bit of romance and
+adventure for Mark, three days ago. He didn&rsquo;t even know that Robert was
+coming. But somehow the passage has been used since, in connection with Robert.
+Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps he&rsquo;s hiding there now. And if so,
+then the only person who could give him away was Miss Norris. And she of course
+would only do it innocently&mdash;not knowing that the passage had anything to
+do with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So it was safer to have her out of the way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about <i>this</i> end of
+it? We can always get in at the bowling-green end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly. It will mean
+breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we&rsquo;ve done it. You
+see, Bill, if we don&rsquo;t find anything out for ourselves in the next day or
+two, we&rsquo;ve got to tell the police what we <i>have</i> found out, and then
+they can explore the passage for themselves. But I don&rsquo;t want to do that
+yet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather not.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So we&rsquo;ve got to carry on secretly for a bit. It&rsquo;s the only
+way.&rdquo; He smiled and added, &ldquo;And it&rsquo;s much more fun.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather!&rdquo; Bill chuckled to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well. Where does the secret passage begin?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/>
+The Reverend Theodore Ussher</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one thing, which we have got to realize at once,&rdquo;
+said Antony, &ldquo;and that is that if we don&rsquo;t find it easily, we
+shan&rsquo;t find it at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean that we shan&rsquo;t have time?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a
+lazy person like me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But it makes it much harder, if we can&rsquo;t really look
+properly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley&rsquo;s bedroom. Well, now we know that it
+doesn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We don&rsquo;t know anything of the sort,&rdquo; protested Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We know for the purposes of our search. Obviously we can&rsquo;t go
+tailing into Cayley&rsquo;s bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and obviously,
+therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must assume that it
+doesn&rsquo;t begin there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I see.&rdquo; Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully.
+&ldquo;Anyhow, it wouldn&rsquo;t begin on an upstairs floor, would it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably not. Well, we&rsquo;re getting on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house,&rdquo; said
+Bill, after more thought. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t go there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right. And the cellars, if there are any.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that doesn&rsquo;t leave us much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Of course it&rsquo;s only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it,
+but what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of the few
+places in which we can look safely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All it amounts to,&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;is the living-rooms
+downstairs&mdash;dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office
+rooms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, the office is the most likely, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Except for one thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s on the wrong side of the house. One would expect the
+passage to start from the nearest place to which it is going. Why make it
+longer by going under the house first?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true. Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And the library for choice. I mean for <i>our</i> choice. There are
+always servants going into dining-rooms. We shouldn&rsquo;t have much of a
+chance of exploring properly in there. Besides, there&rsquo;s another thing to
+remember. Mark has kept this a secret for a year. Could he have kept it a
+secret in the dining-room? Could Miss Norris have got into the dining-room and
+used the secret door just after dinner without being seen? It would have been
+much too risky.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill got up eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come along,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s try the library. If
+Cayley comes in, we can always pretend we&rsquo;re choosing a book.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages. Antony could never
+resist another person&rsquo;s bookshelves. As soon as he went into the room, he
+found himself wandering round it to see what books the owner read, or (more
+likely) did not read, but kept for the air which they lent to the house. Mark
+had prided himself on his library. It was a mixed collection of books. Books
+which he had inherited both from his father and from his patron; books which he
+had bought because he was interested in them or, if not in them, in the authors
+to whom he wished to lend his patronage; books which he had ordered in
+beautifully bound editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves,
+lending a noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture should
+ever be without them; old editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap
+books&mdash;a library in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure of
+finding something to suit him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And which is <i>your</i> particular fancy, Bill?&rdquo; said Antony,
+looking from one shelf to another. &ldquo;Or are you always playing
+billiards?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have a look at &lsquo;Badminton&rsquo; sometimes,&rdquo; said Bill.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s over in that corner there.&rdquo; He waved a hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Over here?&rdquo; said Antony, going to it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He corrected himself suddenly. &ldquo;Oh, no, it&rsquo;s
+not. It&rsquo;s over there on the right now. Mark had a grand re-arrangement of
+his library about a year ago. It took him more than a week, he told us.
+He&rsquo;s got such a frightful lot, hasn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now that&rsquo;s very interesting,&rdquo; said Antony, and he sat down
+and filled his pipe again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was indeed a &ldquo;frightful lot&rdquo; of books. The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only where the
+door and the two windows insisted on living their own life, even though an
+illiterate one. To Bill it seemed the most hopeless room of any in which to
+look for a secret opening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall have to take every blessed book down,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;before we can be certain that we haven&rsquo;t missed it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyway,&rdquo; said Antony, &ldquo;if we take them down one at a time,
+nobody can suspect us of sinister designs. After all, what does one go into a
+library for, except to take books down?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But there&rsquo;s such a frightful lot.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony&rsquo;s pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s have a look,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and see if they
+are so very frightful. Hallo, here&rsquo;s your &lsquo;Badminton.&rsquo; You
+often read that, you say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I read anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He looked down and up the shelf. &ldquo;Sport and Travel
+chiefly. I like books of travel, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re pretty dull as a rule.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, anyhow, some people like them very much,&rdquo; said Antony,
+reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. &ldquo;The Drama. The
+Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well remark,
+many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson&mdash;I like reading
+plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do are usually
+very keen. Let us pass on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, we haven&rsquo;t too much time,&rdquo; said Bill restlessly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t. That&rsquo;s why we aren&rsquo;t wasting any. Poetry.
+Who reads poetry nowadays? Bill, when did you last read &lsquo;Paradise
+Lost&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read &lsquo;The
+Excursion&rsquo; aloud to you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a matter of fact, Betty&mdash;Miss Calladine&mdash;happens to be
+jolly keen on&mdash;what&rsquo;s the beggar&rsquo;s name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Biography. Oh, lots of it. I love biographies. Are you a member of the
+Johnson Club? I bet Mark is. &lsquo;Memories of Many
+Courts&rsquo;&mdash;I&rsquo;m sure Mrs. Calladine reads that. Anyway,
+biographies are just as interesting as most novels, so why linger? We pass
+on.&rdquo; He went to the next shelf, and then gave a sudden whistle.
+&ldquo;Hallo, hallo!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; said Bill rather peevishly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stand back there. Keep the crowd back, Bill. We are getting amongst it.
+Sermons, as I live. Sermons. Was Mark&rsquo;s father a clergyman, or does Mark
+take to them naturally?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His father was a parson, I believe. Oh, yes, I know he was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, then these are Father&rsquo;s books. &lsquo;Half-Hours with the
+Infinite&rsquo;&mdash;I must order that from the library when I get back.
+&lsquo;The Lost Sheep,&rsquo; &lsquo;Jones on the Trinity,&rsquo; &lsquo;The
+Epistles of St. Paul Explained.&rsquo; Oh, Bill, we&rsquo;re amongst it.
+&lsquo;The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore
+Ussher&rsquo;&mdash;hal-<i>lo</i>!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What <i>is</i> the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;William, I am inspired. Stand by.&rdquo; He took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher&rsquo;s classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for a
+moment, and then gave it to Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here, hold Ussher for a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill took the book obediently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, give it me back. Just go out into the hall, and see if you can hear
+Cayley anywhere. Say &lsquo;Hallo&rsquo; loudly, if you do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good.&rdquo; He took the book out of its shelf again. &ldquo;Now then,
+you can hold Ussher. Hold him in the left hand&mdash;so. With the right or
+dexter hand, grasp this shelf firmly&mdash;so. Now, when I say
+&lsquo;Pull,&rsquo; pull gradually. Got that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good.&rdquo; Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout
+Ussher, and fingered the back of the shelf. &ldquo;Pull,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill pulled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now just go on pulling like that. I shall get it directly. Not hard, you
+know, but just keeping up the strain.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom, swung gently
+open towards them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill&rsquo;s fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa and
+deposited him in it. Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Child&rsquo;s play, Watson,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;child&rsquo;s
+play.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t really want it explained,&rdquo; he said, smacking him
+on the knee; &ldquo;you&rsquo;re just being Watsonish. It&rsquo;s very nice of
+you, of course, and I appreciate it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, but really, Tony.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my dear Bill!&rdquo; He smoked silently for a little, and then went
+on, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s what I was saying just now&mdash;a secret is a secret
+until you have discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder
+why everybody else isn&rsquo;t discovering it, and how it could ever have been
+a secret at all. This passage has been here for years, with an opening at one
+end into the library, and at the other end into the shed. Then Mark discovered
+it, and immediately he felt that everybody else must discover it. So he made
+the shed end more difficult by putting the croquet-box there, and this end more
+difficult by&mdash;&rdquo; he stopped and looked at the other &ldquo;by what,
+Bill?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Obviously by re-arranging his books. He happened to take out &lsquo;The
+Life of Nelson&rsquo; or &lsquo;Three Men in a Boat,&rsquo; or whatever it was,
+and by the merest chance discovered the secret. Naturally he felt that
+everybody else would be taking down &lsquo;The Life of Nelson&rsquo; or
+&lsquo;Three Men in a Boat.&rsquo; Naturally he felt that the secret would be
+safer if nobody ever interfered with that shelf at all. When you said that the
+books had been re-arranged a year ago&mdash;just about the time the croquet-box
+came into existence&mdash;of course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the
+dullest books I could find, the books nobody ever read. Obviously the
+collection of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we
+wanted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I see. But why were you so certain of the particular place?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he had to mark the particular place by <i>some</i> book. I thought
+that the joke of putting &lsquo;The Narrow Way&rsquo; just over the entrance to
+the passage might appeal to him. Apparently it did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times. &ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s
+very neat,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a clever devil, Tony.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, come on, then,&rdquo; said Bill, and he got up, and held out a
+hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come on where?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To explore the passage, of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why ever not?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what do you expect to find there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. But you seemed to think that we might find something
+that would help.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose we find Mark?&rdquo; said Antony quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, do you really think he&rsquo;s there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose he is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, there we are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his pipe, and
+turned back to Bill. He looked at him gravely without speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you going to say to him?&rdquo; he said at last.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;well, of course, I&mdash;&rdquo; began Bill, stammering,
+and then ended lamely, &ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly. We&rsquo;ve got to make up our minds, haven&rsquo;t we?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill didn&rsquo;t answer. Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked restlessly
+about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and then at the newly
+discovered door and looking at it as if he were trying to learn what lay behind
+it. Which side was he on, if it came to choosing sides&mdash;Mark&rsquo;s or
+the Law&rsquo;s?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know, you can&rsquo;t just say,
+&lsquo;Oh&mdash;er&mdash;hallo!&rsquo; to him,&rdquo; said Antony, breaking
+rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor,&rdquo; went on Antony, &ldquo;can you say, &lsquo;This is my friend
+Mr. Gillingham, who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of
+bowls.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s dashed difficult. I don&rsquo;t know what to say.
+I&rsquo;ve been rather forgetting about Mark.&rdquo; He wandered over to the
+window and looked out on to the lawns. There was a gardener clipping the grass
+edges. No reason why the lawn should be untidy just because the master of the
+house had disappeared. It was going to be a hot day again. Dash it, of course
+he had forgotten Mark. How could he think of him as an escaped murderer, a
+fugitive from justice, when everything was going on just as it did yesterday,
+and the sun was shining just as it did when they all drove off to their golf,
+only twenty-four hours ago? How could he help feeling that this was not real
+tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of detective game that he and Antony were
+playing?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned back to his friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All the same,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you wanted to find the passage, and
+now you&rsquo;ve found it. Aren&rsquo;t you going into it at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony took his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s go outside again,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t go
+into it now, anyhow. It&rsquo;s too risky, with Cayley about. Bill, I feel like
+you&mdash;just a little bit frightened. But what I&rsquo;m frightened of I
+don&rsquo;t quite know. Anyway, you want to go on with it, don&rsquo;t
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bill firmly. &ldquo;We must.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we&rsquo;ll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the
+chance. And if we don&rsquo;t get the chance, then we&rsquo;ll try it
+to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?&rdquo; asked Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s possible,&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;Either Mark
+or&mdash;&rdquo; He pulled himself up quickly. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he murmured to
+himself, &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t let myself think that&mdash;not yet, anyway.
+It&rsquo;s too horrible.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/>
+A Shadow on the Wall</h2>
+
+<p>
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been busy. He had
+telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in the brown flannel suit
+which he had last been seen wearing; he had made inquiries at Stanton as to
+whether anybody answering to this description had been seen leaving by the
+4.20; and though the evidence which had been volunteered to him had been
+inconclusive, it made it possible that Mark had indeed caught that train, and
+had arrived in London before the police at the other end had been ready to
+receive him. But the fact that it was market-day at Stanton, and that the
+little town would be more full than usual of visitors, made it less likely that
+either the departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of Robert by the 2.10
+earlier in the afternoon, would have been particularly noticed. As Antony had
+said to Cayley, there would always be somebody ready to hand the police a
+circumstantial story of the movements of any man in whom the police were
+interested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain. To find out more about
+him in time for the inquest would be difficult. All that was known about him in
+the village where he and Mark had lived as boys bore out the evidence of
+Cayley. He was an unsatisfactory son, and he had been hurried off to Australia;
+nor had he been seen since in the village. Whether there were any more
+substantial grounds of quarrel between the two brothers than that the younger
+one was at home and well-to-do, while the elder was poor and an exile, was not
+known, nor, as far as the inspector could see, was it likely to be known until
+Mark was captured.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately. Dragging the pond
+might not help towards this, but it would certainly give the impression in
+court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling the case with zeal. And if
+only the revolver with which the deed was done was brought to the surface, his
+trouble would be well repaid. &ldquo;Inspector Birch produces the weapon&rdquo;
+would make an excellent headline in the local paper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked to the
+pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the mood for a little
+pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend, Mr. Beverley. He gave them a
+cheerful &ldquo;Good afternoon,&rdquo; and added with a smile, &ldquo;Coming to
+help us?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t really want us,&rdquo; said Antony, smiling back at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can come if you like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You can tell me afterwards what you find,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;By the
+way,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;I hope the landlord at &lsquo;The George&rsquo;
+gave me a good character?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now how on earth do you know anything about that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the
+Force.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The inspector laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham. You got a clean bill. But
+I had to make certain about you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course you did. Well, I wish you luck. But I don&rsquo;t think
+you&rsquo;ll find much at the pond. It&rsquo;s rather out of the way,
+isn&rsquo;t it, for anybody running away?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to
+the pond. However, we shan&rsquo;t do any harm by looking. It&rsquo;s the
+unexpected that&rsquo;s the most likely in this sort of case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite right, Inspector. Well, we mustn&rsquo;t keep you.
+Good afternoon,&rdquo; and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good afternoon, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good afternoon,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent for so long
+that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him rather crossly what was
+the matter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know; really I don&rsquo;t know. It&rsquo;s too devilish
+what I keep thinking. He can&rsquo;t be as cold-blooded as that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on which they had
+been sitting. He sat there with his head in his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I hope they find something,&rdquo; he murmured. &ldquo;Oh, I hope
+they do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the pond?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything, Bill; anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was annoyed. &ldquo;I say, Tony, this won&rsquo;t do. You really
+mustn&rsquo;t be so damn mysterious. What&rsquo;s happened to you
+suddenly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you hear what he said?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What, particularly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That it was Cayley&rsquo;s idea to drag the pond.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh! Oh, I say!&rdquo; Bill was rather excited again. &ldquo;You mean
+that he&rsquo;s hidden something there? Some false clue which he wants the
+police to find?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; said Antony earnestly, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;m
+afraid&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped short.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afraid of what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Afraid that he hasn&rsquo;t hidden anything there. Afraid
+that&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the safest place in which to hide anything very
+important?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhere where nobody will look.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a better place than that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Somewhere where everybody has already looked.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! You mean that as soon as the pond <i>has</i> been dragged,
+Cayley will hide something there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;m afraid so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why afraid?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn&rsquo;t easily be hidden anywhere else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; asked Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m not going to talk about it yet. We can wait and see what
+the Inspector finds. He may find something&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know
+what&mdash;something that Cayley has put there for him to find. But if he
+doesn&rsquo;t, then it will be because Cayley is going to hide something there
+to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; asked Bill again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will see what, Bill,&rdquo; said Antony; &ldquo;because we shall be
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are we going to watch him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s good,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as to which
+side he was taking. Previous to the tragedy of yesterday he had got on well
+enough with both of the cousins, without being in the least intimate with
+either. Indeed, of the two he preferred, perhaps, the silent, solid Cayley to
+the more volatile Mark. Cayley&rsquo;s qualities, as they appeared to Bill, may
+have been chiefly negative; but even if this merit lay in the fact that he
+never exposed whatever weaknesses he may have had, this is an excellent quality
+in a fellow-guest (or, if you like, fellow-host) in a house where one is
+continually visiting. Mark&rsquo;s weaknesses, on the other hand, were very
+plain to the eye, and Bill had seen a good deal of them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in regard to
+Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of the Law against
+Cayley. Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but Cayley had committed an
+unforgivable offence. Cayley had listened secretly to a private conversation
+between himself and Tony. Let Cayley hang, if the Law demanded it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come along,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s time for that job I spoke
+about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The passage?&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, of course. What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was three o&rsquo;clock, and at three o&rsquo;clock yesterday Antony and
+Cayley had found the body. At a few minutes after three, he had been looking
+out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been surprised suddenly to
+find the door open and Cayley behind him. He had vaguely wondered at the time
+why he had expected the door to be shut, but he had had no time then to worry
+the thing out, and he had promised himself to look into it at his leisure
+afterwards. Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if it meant anything, he could
+have found out its meaning by a visit to the office that morning. But he had
+felt that he would be more likely to recapture the impressions of yesterday if
+he chose as far as possible the same conditions for his experiment. So he had
+decided that three o&rsquo;clock that afternoon should find him once more in
+the office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a shock that
+there was now no body of Robert lying there between the two doors. But there
+was a dark stain which showed where the dead man&rsquo;s head had been, and
+Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt twenty-four hours before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to go through it again,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You must be
+Cayley. Cayley said he would get some water. I remember thinking that water
+wasn&rsquo;t much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too glad to
+do anything rather than nothing. He came back with a wet sponge and a
+handkerchief. I suppose he got the handkerchief from the chest of drawers. Wait
+a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled open a
+drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back to the office.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top right-hand
+drawer. Now then, Bill, just pretend you&rsquo;re Cayley. You&rsquo;ve just
+said something about water, and you get up.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling beside
+his friend, got up and walked out. Antony, as he had done on the previous day,
+looked up after him as he went. Bill turned into the room on the right, opened
+the drawer and got the handkerchief, damped the sponge and came back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he said wonderingly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all different,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;For one thing, you made
+a devil of a noise and Cayley didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps you weren&rsquo;t listening when Cayley went in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t. But I should have heard him if I could have heard him,
+and I should have remembered afterwards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought. It wasn&rsquo;t anything which
+he had heard, but something which he had seen. He tried desperately hard to see
+it again.... He saw Cayley getting up, opening the door from the office,
+leaving it open and walking into the passage, turning to the door on the right,
+opening it, going in, and then&mdash;What did his eyes see after that? If they
+would only tell him again!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. &ldquo;Bill, I&rsquo;ve got it!&rdquo;
+he cried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
+ass, and ten times ass!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed to the
+wall of the passage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at the sunlight on it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s because
+you&rsquo;ve left the door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through
+the windows. Now, I&rsquo;m going to shut the door. Look! D&rsquo;you see how
+the shadow moves across? That&rsquo;s what I saw&mdash;the shadow moving across
+as the door shut behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind
+you&mdash;quite naturally. Quick!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought so!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I knew it couldn&rsquo;t have been
+that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What happened?&rdquo; said Bill, coming back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved back
+again&mdash;all in one movement.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what happened yesterday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
+and there was no noise of the door being shut.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
+afterthought&mdash;and very quietly&mdash;so that you couldn&rsquo;t
+hear?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into the
+room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with springs on
+them close?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very slowly
+they swing to&mdash; well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort of
+door. By Jove!&rdquo; He got up, and dusted his knees. &ldquo;Now, Bill, just
+to make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you know;
+and very quietly, so that I don&rsquo;t hear the click of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what had
+happened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was it,&rdquo; said Antony, with absolute conviction. &ldquo;That
+was just what I saw yesterday.&rdquo; He came out of the office, and joined
+Bill in the little room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s try and find out what it was
+that Mr. Cayley was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that
+his friend Mr. Gillingham didn&rsquo;t overhear him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/>
+The Open Window</h2>
+
+<p>
+Anthony&rsquo;s first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something,
+perhaps, which he had found by the body, and&mdash;but that was absurd. In the
+time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a drawer,
+where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if he had kept it
+in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by this time, and hidden it
+in some more secret place. Besides, why in this case bother about shutting the
+door?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it any good going through these, do you think?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why did he keep clothes here at all?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Did he ever
+change down here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
+kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I go from
+London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark never did. In
+his flat in London he had everything all over again which he has here. It was a
+hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he&rsquo;d had half a dozen houses, they
+would all have been full of a complete gentleman&rsquo;s town and country
+outfit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the next
+room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more comfortable
+coat.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. Yes.&rdquo; He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
+lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and glanced
+in. &ldquo;He seems to have come in here for a collar lately.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I daresay he would,&rdquo; he agreed. &ldquo;If he suddenly found
+that the one he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or
+something. He was very finicking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It must have been uncomfortable this time,&rdquo; he said, after
+examining it carefully. &ldquo;It couldn&rsquo;t very well be cleaner.&rdquo;
+He dropped it back again. &ldquo;Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes, rather.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did he want to shut the door for?&rdquo; said Bill.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what I don&rsquo;t understand. You couldn&rsquo;t have seen
+him, anyhow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
+something which he didn&rsquo;t want me to hear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove, that&rsquo;s it!&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s have some air, anyway,&rdquo; he said at last,
+exhausted by the effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out.
+Then, struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, &ldquo;Do you think
+I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they&rsquo;re still at it?
+Because&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony&rsquo;s face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, idiot, idiot!&rdquo; Antony cried. &ldquo;Oh, most super-excellent
+of Watsons! Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable
+ass!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The window, the window!&rdquo; cried Antony, pointing to it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it said
+nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was opening the window!&rdquo; cried Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley, of course.&rdquo; Very gravely and slowly he expounded.
+&ldquo;He came in here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I
+shouldn&rsquo;t hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here
+and found the window open. I said, &lsquo;This window is open. My amazing
+powers of analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this
+window.&rsquo; &lsquo;Oh,&rsquo; said Cayley, raising his eyebrows.
+&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;I suppose you must be right.&rsquo; Said I
+proudly, &lsquo;I am. For the window is open,&rsquo; I said. Oh, you
+incomparable ass!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He tried to put himself in Cayley&rsquo;s place&mdash;Cayley, when Antony had
+first discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, &ldquo;Let me
+in!&rdquo; Whatever had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert,
+Cayley knew all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not
+escaped by the window. But it was necessary to Cayley&rsquo;s plans&mdash;to
+Mark&rsquo;s plans if they were acting in concert&mdash;that he should be
+thought so to have escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key
+in his pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered&mdash;with
+what a shock!&mdash;that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left
+open!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. <i>Was</i> the
+office window open? Surely it was open! <i>Was</i> it?.... Would he have time
+now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip out again?
+No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky. Fatal, if he were
+discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get the windows safely open
+while they were crowding round the body. They wouldn&rsquo;t notice. He could
+do it somehow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then Antony&rsquo;s sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And Antony
+suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was just what he
+wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest way
+round and yet <i>run</i>. It was Cayley&rsquo;s only chance of getting a start
+on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open somehow before
+Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he must get there first,
+just to make sure. Perhaps they <i>were</i> open. He must get away from Antony
+and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he must have a moment to
+himself, a moment in which to think of some other plan, and avoid the ruin
+which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the window
+together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet. There was the
+dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn&rsquo;t hear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Antony didn&rsquo;t hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
+Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had carefully
+explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular window in preference to
+the office window. And Cayley had agreed that probably that was the reason. How
+he must have chuckled to himself! But he was still a little afraid. Afraid that
+Antony would examine the shrubbery. Why? Obviously because there was no trace
+of anyone having broken through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the
+necessary traces since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even
+gone as far as footmarks&mdash;in Mark&rsquo;s shoes? But the ground was very
+hard. Perhaps footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he thought of the
+big Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark&rsquo;s shoes. Cayley
+must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or two. But
+quietly, quietly. Antony mustn&rsquo;t hear. And Antony had not heard.... But
+he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
+listening open-mouthed to his friend&rsquo;s theory of yesterday&rsquo;s
+happenings. It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them any
+further. It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark. Where&rsquo;s Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then
+where is he now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must
+have gone. Elsie heard him.&rdquo; He stopped and repeated slowly, &ldquo;She
+heard him&mdash;at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out
+again by the door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but where does that lead you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where it led Mark. The passage.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you mean that he&rsquo;s been hiding there all the time?&rdquo;
+Antony was silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort
+he came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I
+don&rsquo;t know if it is the right one&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know, Bill;
+I&rsquo;m rather frightened. Frightened of what may have happened, of what may
+be going to happen. However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any
+fault with it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay back on
+the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him, and just as if he
+saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted over again, he described
+them slowly to Bill as they happened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an
+accident; probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a panic,
+naturally. But he doesn&rsquo;t lock the door and run away. For one thing, the
+key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not quite such a fool as
+that. But he is in a horrible position. He is known to be on bad terms with his
+brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him, which may possibly
+have been overheard. What is he to do? He does the natural thing, the thing
+which Mark would always do in such circumstances. He consults Cayley, the
+invaluable, inevitable Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
+tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see what is
+the matter. He explains rapidly. &lsquo;What&rsquo;s to be done, Cay?
+What&rsquo;s to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
+threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn&rsquo;t. Think of something,
+quick!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley has thought of something. &lsquo;Leave it to me,&rsquo; he says.
+&lsquo;You clear out altogether. <i>I</i> shot him, if you like. I&rsquo;ll do
+all the explaining. Get away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage,
+quick. I&rsquo;ll come to you there as soon as I can.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark&rsquo;s courage comes back. Cayley
+will explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an accident.
+He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley&mdash;Cayley has no
+quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage and tell him
+that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other end, and saunter slowly
+back to the house. He will be told the news by one of the servants. Robert
+accidentally shot? Good Heavens!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
+the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door and
+shouts, &lsquo;Let me in!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Tony, but that doesn&rsquo;t make sense. What&rsquo;s the point of
+Cayley behaving like that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what has happened to Mark since?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re ready to go?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite,&rdquo; said Bill, surprised.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite ready for what we may find?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re being dashed mysterious, old boy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I am.&rdquo; He gave a little laugh, and went on, &ldquo;Perhaps
+I&rsquo;m being an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am.&rdquo; He
+looked at his watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s safe, is it? They&rsquo;re still busy at the pond?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;d better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound,
+Bill&mdash;one of those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean,
+could you get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
+without letting him see you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather!&rdquo; He got up eagerly. &ldquo;You wait.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony&rsquo;s head shot up suddenly. &ldquo;Why, that was what Mark
+said,&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. What Elsie heard him say.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes I suppose she couldn&rsquo;t have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
+him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She couldn&rsquo;t have mistaken his voice, if that&rsquo;s what you
+mean.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather high-pitched, you know, and&mdash;well, one can&rsquo;t explain,
+but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything.&rdquo; He
+rattled these words off in Mark&rsquo;s rather monotonous, high-pitched voice,
+and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, &ldquo;I say, that was really
+rather good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded quickly. &ldquo;That was like it?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; He got up and squeezed Bill&rsquo;s arm. &ldquo;Well just go
+and see about Cayley, and then we&rsquo;ll get moving. I shall be in the
+library.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was glorious fun;
+this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be bettered. First of all
+he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little copse above the level of the
+pond, and about a hundred yards away from it. He would come into this from the
+back, creep cautiously through it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then,
+drawing himself on his stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him.
+People were always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled
+with a hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it himself.
+What fun!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported to Antony,
+they were going to explore the secret passage! Again, what fun! Unfortunately
+there seemed to be no chance of buried treasure, but there might be buried
+clues. Even if you found nothing, you couldn&rsquo;t get away from the fact
+that a secret passage was a secret passage, and anything might happen in it.
+But even that wasn&rsquo;t the end of this exciting day. They were going to
+watch the pond that night; they were going to watch Cayley under the moonlight,
+watch him as he threw into the silence of the pond&mdash;what? The revolver?
+Well, anyhow, they were going to watch him. What fun!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they were
+getting, it did not seem fun. But it was amazingly interesting. He saw so much,
+and yet somehow it was all out of focus. It was like looking at an opal, and
+discovering with every movement of it some new colour, some new gleam of light
+reflected, and yet never really seeing the opal as a whole. He was too near it,
+or too far away; he strained his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good.
+His brain could not get hold of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned away from it.
+He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never seen murder before, and
+this which was in his mind now, and to which he was afraid to listen, was not
+just the hot-blooded killing which any man may come to if he lose control. It
+was something much more horrible. Too horrible to be true. Then let him look
+again for the truth. He looked again&mdash;but it was all out of focus.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will <i>not</i> look again,&rdquo; he said aloud, as he began to walk
+towards the house. &ldquo;Not yet, anyway.&rdquo; He would go on collecting
+facts and impressions. Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/>
+Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage</h2>
+
+<p>
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley was still
+at the pond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t think they&rsquo;re getting up much except mud,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I ran most of the way back so as to give us as much time as
+possible.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, come along, then,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The sooner, the
+quicker.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher&rsquo;s famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill pulled.
+The shelves swung open towards them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;it is a narrow way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had something
+the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two feet from the
+ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the floor of it was
+emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and flashed it down into the
+blackness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look,&rdquo; he whispered to the eager Bill. &ldquo;The steps begin down
+there. Six feet down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of large
+iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You swing off from there,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;At least, I suppose
+you do. I wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley helped her, I should think.... It&rsquo;s funny.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I go first?&rdquo; asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony
+shook his head with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think I will, if you don&rsquo;t mind very much, Bill. Just in
+case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In case of what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, in case.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to wonder what
+Antony meant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Go on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ll just make sure we can get back again, first. It really
+wouldn&rsquo;t be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the rest
+of our lives. He&rsquo;s got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if he has to
+find you and me as well&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can always get out at the other end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;re not certain yet. I think I&rsquo;d better just go down
+and back. I promise faithfully not to explore.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat there for
+a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the darkness again, so
+as to make sure where the steps began; then returned it to his pocket, seized
+the staple in front of him and swung himself down. His feet touched the steps
+beneath him, and he let go.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it all right?&rdquo; said Bill anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. I&rsquo;ll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back.
+Stay there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For a little
+while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint splashes of light,
+and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a little longer he could fancy
+that he saw and heard them; then he was alone....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; said Bill, turning round with a start,
+&ldquo;Cayley!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in action.
+Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely but noiselessly,
+to make sure that the books were in the right places, to move away to another
+row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in &ldquo;Badminton&rdquo; or
+&ldquo;Baedeker&rdquo; or whomever the kind gods should send to his
+aid&mdash;the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in
+five seconds rather than in six.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, there you are,&rdquo; said Cayley from the doorway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume
+of &ldquo;The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.&rdquo; &ldquo;Have
+they finished?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Finished what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The pond,&rdquo; said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on
+such a fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason....
+verifying a quotation&mdash;an argument with Antony&mdash;that would do. But
+<i>what</i> quotation?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no. They&rsquo;re still at it. Where&rsquo;s Gillingham?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&lsquo;The Ancient Mariner&rsquo;&mdash;water, water, everywhere&mdash;or was
+that something else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tony? Oh, he&rsquo;s about somewhere. We&rsquo;re just going down to the
+village. They aren&rsquo;t finding anything at the pond, are they?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can say
+they&rsquo;ve done it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and went back to
+it again. He was just getting to the place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the book?&rdquo; said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the
+corner of his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that
+glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was just looking up a quotation,&rdquo; he drawled. &ldquo;Tony and I
+had a bet about it. You know that thing about&mdash;er&mdash;water, water
+everywhere, and&mdash;er&mdash;not a drop to drink.&rdquo; (But what on earth,
+he wondered to himself, were they betting about?)
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Nor any drop to drink,&rsquo; to be accurate.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite sure?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you&rsquo;ve saved me a lot of trouble. That&rsquo;s what the bet
+was about.&rdquo; He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf, and
+began to feel for his pipe and tobacco. &ldquo;I was a fool to bet with
+Tony,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;He always knows that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So far, so good. But here was Cayley still in the library, and there was
+Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage. When Antony came back he would not be
+surprised to find the door closed, because the whole object of his going had
+been to see if he could open it easily from the inside. At any moment, then,
+the bookshelf might swing back and show Antony&rsquo;s head in the gap. A nice
+surprise for Cayley!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come with us?&rdquo; he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
+anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got to go into Stanton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered also a
+heartfelt sigh of relief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, a pity. You&rsquo;re driving, I suppose?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. The car will be here directly. There&rsquo;s a letter I must write
+first.&rdquo; He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any moment now
+it might open.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned. Obviously. But
+how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code. Did Antony know it?
+Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He had picked up a bit in the
+Army&mdash;not enough to send a message, of course. But a message was
+impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It wouldn&rsquo;t do
+to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know? And what letter
+would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at his pipe, his eyes wandering
+from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What
+letter?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was just worth
+trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that
+right? C&mdash;yes, that was C. He was sure of that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming vaguely to
+himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it might be his
+friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk or something. He
+wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley, and began to tap
+absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the titles.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first; he
+couldn&rsquo;t get the rhythm of it....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Umpt</i>-y-iddy-<i>umpt</i>-y-iddy. That was better. He was back at Samuel
+Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin to hear him soon.
+<i>Umpt</i>-y-iddy-<i>umpt</i>-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a man who is
+wondering what book he will take out with him to read on the lawn. Would Antony
+hear? One always heard the man in the next flat knocking out his pipe. Would
+Antony understand? <i>Umpt</i>-y-iddy-<i>umpt</i>-y-iddy. C. for Cayley,
+Antony. Cayley&rsquo;s here. For God&rsquo;s sake, wait.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord! Sermons!&rdquo; said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(<i>Umpt</i>-y-iddy-<i>umpt</i>-y-iddy) &ldquo;Ever read &rsquo;em,
+Cayley?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo; Cayley looked up suddenly. Bill&rsquo;s back moved slowly
+along, his fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Er&mdash;no,&rdquo; said Cayley, with a little laugh. An awkward,
+uncomfortable little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor do I.&rdquo; He was past the sermons now&mdash;past the secret
+door&mdash;but still tapping in the same aimless way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, for God&rsquo;s sake sit down,&rdquo; burst out Cayley. &ldquo;Or go
+outside if you want to walk about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo, what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry, Bill,&rdquo; he apologized. &ldquo;My nerves are on edge. Your
+constant tapping and fidgeting about&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tapping?&rdquo; said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear old chap, I&rsquo;m awfully sorry. I&rsquo;ll go out in the
+hall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Cayley, and went on with his letter.
+Bill sat down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there
+was nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. &ldquo;And if you ask
+me,&rdquo; said Bill to himself, much pleased, &ldquo;I ought to be on the
+stage. That&rsquo;s where I ought to be. The complete actor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now. Antony
+had guessed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is the car there?&rdquo; asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; and went out to
+talk to the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hallo,&rdquo; said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and
+saw Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said casually enough
+that it was all right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I must be off,&rdquo; said Cayley. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re going down
+to the village?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the idea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if you&rsquo;d take this letter to Jallands for me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much. Well, I shall see you later.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded and got into the car.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he said excitedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come into the library.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must give me a moment,&rdquo; he panted. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been
+running.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Running?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, of course. How do you think I got back here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t mean you went out at the other end?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, did you hear me tapping?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did, indeed. Bill, you&rsquo;re a genius.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew you&rsquo;d understand,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You guessed that I
+meant Cayley?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant. You
+must have had rather an exciting time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for a life
+on the stage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good man,&rdquo; said Antony at the end of it. &ldquo;You are the most
+perfect Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad,&rdquo; he went on dramatically,
+rising and taking Bill&rsquo;s hand in both of his, &ldquo;There is nothing
+that you and I could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Silly old ass.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what you always say when I&rsquo;m being serious. Well,
+anyway, thanks awfully. You really saved us this time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you coming back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
+tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of course the
+whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the other side, but I
+felt somehow that you wouldn&rsquo;t shut it until the last possible
+moment&mdash;until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the taps, and I
+knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C began to come along I
+said, &lsquo;Cayley, b&rsquo;Jove&rsquo;&mdash;bright, aren&rsquo;t
+I?&mdash;and I simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was
+worth. And hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather
+involved in explanations&mdash;about where I was, and so on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t see Mark, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. Nor his&mdash;No, I didn&rsquo;t see anything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nor what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw
+a door in the wall, a cupboard. And it&rsquo;s locked. So if there&rsquo;s
+anything we want to find, that&rsquo;s where it is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Could Mark be hiding there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I called through the keyhole&mdash;in a whisper&mdash;&lsquo;Mark, are
+you there?&rsquo;&mdash;he would have thought it was Cayley. There was no
+answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s go down and try again. We might be able to get the
+door open.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aren&rsquo;t I going at all?&rdquo; said Bill in great disappointment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can Cayley drive a car?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose so&mdash;if he wanted to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Antony got up. &ldquo;Well, look here, as we said we were
+going into the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost think
+we&rsquo;d better do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!.... Oh, very well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jallands. What were you telling me about that? Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter. The
+letter&rsquo;s for her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; well, let&rsquo;s take it. Just to be on the safe side.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?&rdquo;
+asked Bill fretfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing to see, really, I promise you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re very mysterious. What&rsquo;s upset you? You did see
+something down there, I&rsquo;m certain of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did and I&rsquo;ve told you about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, you haven&rsquo;t. You only told me about the door in the
+wall.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it, Bill. And it&rsquo;s locked. And I&rsquo;m frightened
+of what&rsquo;s behind it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then we shall never know what&rsquo;s there if we aren&rsquo;t going
+to look.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall know to-night,&rdquo; said Antony, taking Bill&rsquo;s arm and
+leading him to the hall, &ldquo;when we watch our dear friend Cayley dropping
+it into the pond.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/>
+Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham</h2>
+
+<p>
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped gently
+downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is difficult to
+keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length of time, Bill had
+dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed to himself, hit at thistles in
+the grass with his stick and made uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he
+noticed that his companion kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he
+wanted to remember for a future occasion the way by which they were coming. Yet
+there was no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time in view of the
+road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall which bordered its further
+side stood out clearly against the sky.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the joke?&rdquo; said Bill, glad of the more social
+atmosphere.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley. Didn&rsquo;t you see?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The car. Going past on the road there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So <i>that&rsquo;s</i> what you were looking for. You&rsquo;ve got jolly
+good eyes, my boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing
+it twice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I <i>have</i> got jolly good eyes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought he was going to Stanton.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He hoped you&rsquo;d think so&mdash;obviously.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then where is he going?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After making quite
+sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really <i>were</i> going to
+Jallands, as they said.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, do you think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient for
+him, hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when we&rsquo;re
+definitely somewhere else, must be very useful to him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Useful for what?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he&rsquo;s
+mixed up in this business; we know he&rsquo;s hiding a secret or two. Even if
+he doesn&rsquo;t suspect that we&rsquo;re on his tracks, he must feel that at
+any moment we might stumble on something.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about to-night?&rdquo; he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Try a piece of grass,&rdquo; said Antony, offering it to him. Bill
+pushed it through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+better,&rdquo; and returned the pipe to his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that wants thinking over. It&rsquo;s going to be difficult. I wish
+we were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any chance?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old thatched
+farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up to a new world, and had
+forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however, of so discreet a growth that they had
+not brought with them any obvious change of character, and Jallands even with a
+bathroom was still Jallands. To the outward view, at any rate. Inside, it was
+more clearly Mrs. Norbury&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes&mdash;Angela Norbury,&rdquo; murmured Bill. &ldquo;Not bad-looking,
+is she?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something more than
+&ldquo;not bad-looking,&rdquo; but in this matter Bill was keeping his
+superlatives for another. In Bill&rsquo;s eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine. To Antony,
+unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed, quite simply,
+beautiful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cayley asked us to bring a letter along,&rdquo; explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over. &ldquo;Here you are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will tell him, won&rsquo;t you, how dreadfully sorry I am
+about&mdash;about what has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so
+hopeless even to believe it. If it is true what we&rsquo;ve heard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn&rsquo;t been found yet?&rdquo; She shook her
+head in distress. &ldquo;It still seems to have happened to somebody else;
+somebody we didn&rsquo;t know at all.&rdquo; Then, with a sudden grave smile
+which included both of them, &ldquo;But you must come and have some tea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s awfully decent of you,&rdquo; said Bill awkwardly, &ldquo;but
+we&mdash;er&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will, won&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; she said to Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you very much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any man in her
+house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility. When her life-work
+was completed, and summed up in those beautiful words: &ldquo;A marriage has
+been arranged, and will shortly take place, between Angela, daughter of the
+late John Norbury....&rdquo; then she would utter a grateful <i>Nunc
+dimittis</i> and depart in peace&mdash;to a better world, if Heaven insisted,
+but preferably to her new son-in-law&rsquo;s more dignified establishment. For
+there was no doubt that eligibility meant not only eligibility as a husband.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But it was not as &ldquo;eligibles&rdquo; that the visitors from the Red House
+were received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special smile for
+&ldquo;possibles&rdquo; was there, it was instinctive rather than reasoned. All
+that she wanted at this moment was news&mdash;news of Mark. For she was
+bringing it off at last; and, if the engagement columns of the &ldquo;Morning
+Post&rdquo; were preceded, as in the case of its obituary columns, by a
+premonitory bulletin, the announcement of yesterday would have cried
+triumphantly to the world, or to such part of the world as mattered: &ldquo;A
+marriage has very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly
+take place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John Norbury, and Mark
+Ablett of the Red House.&rdquo; And, coming across it on his way to the
+sporting page, Bill would have been surprised. For he had thought that, if
+anybody, it was Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To the girl it was neither. She was often amused by her mother&rsquo;s ways;
+sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them. The Mark Ablett affair
+had seemed to her particularly distressing, for Mark was so obviously in league
+with her mother against her. Other suitors, upon whom her mother had smiled,
+had been embarrassed by that championship; Mark appeared to depend on it as
+much as on his own attractions; great though he thought these to be. They went
+a-wooing together. It was a pleasure to turn to Cayley, that hopeless
+ineligible.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But alas! Cayley had misunderstood her. She could not imagine Cayley in
+love&mdash;until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it. That was four
+days ago. She had not seen him since, and now here was this letter. She dreaded
+opening it. It was a relief to feel that at least she had an excuse for not
+doing so while her guests were in the house.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the more
+sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and Angela had been
+dispatched to the garden with the promptness and efficiency of the expert, dear
+Mr. Gillingham found himself on the sofa beside her, listening to many things
+which were of even greater interest to him than she could possibly have hoped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is terrible, terrible,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And to suggest that
+dear Mr. Ablett&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony made suitable noises.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve seen Mr. Ablett for yourself. A kinder, more warmhearted
+man&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course, yes, I was forgetting. But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham, you
+can trust a woman&rsquo;s intuition in these matters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think of my feelings as a mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury&rsquo;s feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed with a
+stranger. Yet what could he do? What, indeed, did he want to do except listen,
+in the hope of learning? Mark engaged, or about to be engaged! Had that any
+bearing on the events of yesterday? What, for instance, would Mrs. Norbury have
+thought of brother Robert, that family skeleton? Was this another reason for
+wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never liked him, never!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never liked&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo; said Antony, bewildered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That cousin of his&mdash;Mr. Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my little
+girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you wouldn&rsquo;t, Mrs. Norbury.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never liked him,&rdquo; said Mrs. Norbury firmly. &ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+However, thought Antony to himself, that didn&rsquo;t quite prove that Cayley
+was a murderer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did Miss Norbury get on with him?&rdquo; he asked cautiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was <i>nothing</i> in that at all,&rdquo; said Miss
+Norbury&rsquo;s mother emphatically. &ldquo;<i>Nothing</i>. I would say so to
+anybody.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I beg your pardon. I never meant&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nothing. I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence. Whether
+<i>he</i> made advances&mdash;&rdquo; She broke off with a shrug of her plump
+shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony waited eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naturally they met. Possibly he might have&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know. But
+my duty as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told him quite frankly that&mdash;how shall I put it?&mdash;that he
+was trespassing. Tactfully, of <i>course</i>. But frankly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean,&rdquo; said Antony, trying to speak calmly, &ldquo;that you
+told him that&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Ablett and your daughter&mdash;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly, Mr. Gillingham. I had my duty as a mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing your
+duty. But it must have been disagreeable. Particularly if you weren&rsquo;t
+quite sure&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham. Obviously attracted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who would not be?&rdquo; said Antony, with a charming smile. &ldquo;It
+must have been something of a shock to him to&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken. I saw at once
+that I had not spoken a moment too soon.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next
+meeting,&rdquo; suggested Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naturally, he has not been here since. No doubt they would have been
+bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&mdash;this was only quite lately?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Last week, Mr. Gillingham. I spoke just in time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; said Antony, under his breath. He had been waiting for it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have thought over
+the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably, to have changed partners
+for a little while with Bill. Miss Norbury would hardly be ready to confide in
+a stranger with the readiness of a mother, but he might have learnt something
+by listening to her. For which of them had she the greater feeling&mdash;Cayley
+or Mark? Was she really prepared to marry Mark? Did she love him&mdash;or the
+other&mdash;or neither? Mrs. Norbury was only a trustworthy witness in regard
+to her own actions and thoughts; he had learnt all that was necessary of those,
+and only the daughter now had anything left to tell him. But Mrs. Norbury was
+still talking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham,&rdquo; she was saying. &ldquo;It
+is fortunate that they have mothers to guide them. It was so obvious to me from
+the beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband for my little girl. You
+never knew him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular
+Velasquez&mdash;I should say Van Dyck. Angela would have it that she could
+never marry a man with a beard. As if <i>that</i> mattered, when&mdash;&rdquo;
+She broke off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Red House is certainly charming,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Charming. Quite charming. And it is not as if Mr. Ablett&rsquo;s
+appearance were in any way undistinguished. Quite the contrary. I&rsquo;m sure
+you agree with me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world. So
+desirable in every way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little. Antony was about
+to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs. Norbury began again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then there&rsquo;s this scapegrace brother of his. He was perfectly
+frank with me, Mr. Gillingham. He would be. He told me of this brother, and I
+told him that I was quite certain it would make no difference to my
+daughter&rsquo;s feelings for him.... After all, the brother was in
+Australia.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When was this? Yesterday?&rdquo; Antony felt that, if Mark had only
+mentioned it after his brother&rsquo;s announcement of a personal call at the
+Red House, this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom behind it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It couldn&rsquo;t have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham.
+Yesterday&mdash;&rdquo; she shuddered, and shook her head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no! There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too devoted a
+lover. Not in the morning, no. We both agreed that dear Angela&mdash;Oh, no.
+No; the day before yesterday, when he happened to drop in about
+tea-time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her opening
+statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically engaged. She was now
+admitting that dear Angela was not to be rushed, that dear Angela had, indeed,
+no heart for the match at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The day before yesterday. As it happened, dear Angela was out. Not that
+it mattered. He was driving to Middleston. He hardly had time for a cup of tea,
+so that even if she had been in&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded absently. This was something new. Why did Mark go to Middleston
+the day before yesterday? But, after all, why shouldn&rsquo;t he? A hundred
+reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might have taken him there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He got up to go. He wanted to be alone&mdash;alone, at least, with Bill. Mrs.
+Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great outstanding fact
+which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason to hate Mark,&mdash;Mrs.
+Norbury had given him that reason. To hate? Well, to be jealous, anyhow. But
+that was enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You see,&rdquo; he said to Bill, as they walked back, &ldquo;we know
+that Cayley is perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and
+that must be for one of two reasons. Either to save Mark or to endanger him.
+That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly against
+him. Well, now we know that he is against him, definitely against him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, I say, you know,&rdquo; protested Bill, &ldquo;one doesn&rsquo;t
+necessarily try to ruin one&rsquo;s rival in love.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t one?&rdquo; said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mightn&rsquo;t try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn&rsquo;t perjure
+yourself in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lord! no.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them from the road,
+and having gone through it, they turned round and leant against it, resting for
+a moment, and looking down at the house which they had left.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jolly little place, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very. But rather mysterious.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In what way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, where&rsquo;s the front door?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The front door? Why, you&rsquo;ve just come out of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But isn&rsquo;t there a drive, or a road or anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; that&rsquo;s the beauty of it to some people. And that&rsquo;s why
+it&rsquo;s so cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect.
+They&rsquo;re not too well off.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, there&rsquo;s a cart-track, but motor-cars can&rsquo;t come any
+nearer than the road&rdquo;&mdash;he turned round and pointed&mdash;&ldquo;up
+there. So the week-end millionaire people don&rsquo;t take it. At least,
+they&rsquo;d have to build a road and a garage and all the rest of it, if they
+did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and
+continued their walk up to the road. But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/>
+Getting Ready for the Night</h2>
+
+<p>
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night? Antony
+thought that he knew now. It was Mark&rsquo;s body.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back from it.
+For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded killing. Was Cayley
+equal to it? Bill would have said &ldquo;No,&rdquo; but that was because he had
+had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and dinner with him; had ragged
+him and played games with him. Bill would have said &ldquo;No,&rdquo; because
+Bill wouldn&rsquo;t have killed anybody in cold blood himself, and because he
+took it for granted that other people behaved pretty much as he did. But Antony
+had no such illusions. Murders were done; murder had actually been done here,
+for there was Robert&rsquo;s dead body. Why not another murder?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon? The only evidence (other
+than Cayley&rsquo;s, which obviously did not count) was Elsie&rsquo;s. Elsie
+was quite certain that she had heard his voice. But then Bill had said that it
+was a very characteristic voice&mdash;an easy voice, therefore, to imitate. If
+Bill could imitate it so successfully, why not Cayley?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all. Suppose
+Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over the girl whom they
+were both wooing. Suppose Cayley had killed Mark, either purposely, in sudden
+passion, or accidentally, meaning only to knock him down. Suppose that this had
+happened in the passage, say about two o&rsquo;clock, either because Cayley had
+deliberately led him there, or because Mark had casually suggested a visit to
+it. (One could imagine Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.)
+Suppose Cayley there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round
+his neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search for a way of
+escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly he remembers that Robert is
+coming to the house at three o&rsquo;clock that afternoon&mdash;automatically
+he looks at his watch&mdash;in half an hour&rsquo;s time.... In half an
+hour&rsquo;s time. He must think of something quickly, quickly. Shall he bury
+the body in the passage and let it be thought that Mark ran away, frightened at
+the mere thought of his brother&rsquo;s arrival? But there was the evidence of
+the breakfast table. Mark had seemed annoyed at this resurrection of the black
+sheep, but certainly not frightened. No; that was much too thin a story. But
+suppose Mark had actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose
+it could be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over the dead body
+of his cousin, and working it out. How could Robert be made to seem the
+murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it? But suppose Robert were dead, too?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looks at his watch again. (Only twenty-five minutes now.) Suppose Robert
+were dead, too? Robert dead in the office, and Mark dead in the
+passage&mdash;how does that help? Madness! But if the bodies were brought
+together somehow and Robert&rsquo;s death looked like suicide?.... Was it
+possible?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Madness again. Too difficult. (Only twenty minutes now.) Too difficult to
+arrange in twenty minutes. Can&rsquo;t arrange a suicide. Too difficult....
+Only nineteen minutes....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then the sudden inspiration! Robert dead in the office, Mark&rsquo;s body
+hidden in the passage&mdash;impossible to make Robert seem the murderer, but
+how easy to make Mark! Robert dead and Mark missing; why, it jumped to the eye
+at once. Mark had killed Robert&mdash;accidentally; yes, that would be more
+likely&mdash;and then had run away. Sudden panic.... (He looks at his watch
+again. Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now. The thing arranges itself.)
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered. It seemed to fit in with the facts as
+they knew them; but then, so did that other theory which he had suggested to
+Bill in the morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which one?&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting in the copse
+above the pond, from which the Inspector and his fishermen had now withdrawn.
+Bill had listened with open mouth to Antony&rsquo;s theory, and save for an
+occasional &ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; had listened in silence. &ldquo;Smart man,
+Cayley,&rdquo; had been his only comment at the end.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which other theory?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the office door
+from the outside and hammered on it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that. I asked you what the
+point of it was, and you wouldn&rsquo;t say anything.&rdquo; He thought for a
+little, and then went on, &ldquo;I suppose you meant that Cayley deliberately
+betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like a murderer?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the passage,
+alive or dead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now you don&rsquo;t think so?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now I think that his dead body is there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards&mdash;after you
+had come, after the police had come?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what I shrink from, Bill. It&rsquo;s so horribly
+cold-blooded. Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough. According to
+you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with whom he has no
+quarrel, whom he hasn&rsquo;t seen for fifteen years!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is
+that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in sudden
+passion. Anything that happened after that would be self-defense. I don&rsquo;t
+mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it. And I think that Mark&rsquo;s
+dead body is in the passage now, and has been there since, say, half-past two
+yesterday afternoon. And to-night Cayley is going to hide it in the
+pond.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful or two,
+and said slowly, &ldquo;You may be right, but it&rsquo;s all guess-work, you
+know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord, of course it is,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And to-night we shall
+know if it&rsquo;s a good guess or a bad one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-night,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I say, to-night&rsquo;s going to be
+rather fun. How do we work it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was silent for a little.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;we ought to inform the police,
+so that they can come here and watch the pond to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; grinned Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories before
+them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think perhaps it is,&rdquo; said Bill solemnly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bill, you old bounder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, dash it, it&rsquo;s our show. I don&rsquo;t see why we
+shouldn&rsquo;t get our little bit of fun out of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Neither do I. All right, then, we&rsquo;ll do without the police
+to-night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall miss them,&rdquo; said Bill sadly, &ldquo;but &rsquo;tis better
+so.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of getting out of
+the house without being discovered by Cayley, and secondly, the problem of
+recovering whatever it was which Cayley dropped into the pond that night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s look at it from Cayley&rsquo;s point of view,&rdquo; said
+Antony. &ldquo;He may not know that we&rsquo;re on his track, but he
+can&rsquo;t help being suspicious of us. He&rsquo;s bound to be suspicious of
+everybody in the house, and more particularly of us, because we&rsquo;re
+presumably more intelligent than the others.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the opportunity of
+looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he&rsquo;s going to take
+good care that we aren&rsquo;t watching him. Well, what will he do?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See that we are asleep first, before he starts out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Come and tuck us up, and see that we&rsquo;re nice and
+comfortable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s awkward,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;But we could lock
+our doors, and then he wouldn&rsquo;t know that we weren&rsquo;t there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you ever locked your door?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he&rsquo;d bang on
+it, and you wouldn&rsquo;t answer, and then what would he think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I don&rsquo;t see how we&rsquo;re going to do it,&rdquo; he said,
+after deep thought. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll obviously come to us just before he
+starts out, and that doesn&rsquo;t give us time to get to the pond in front of
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s put ourselves in his place,&rdquo; said Antony, puffing
+slowly at his pipe. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got the body, or whatever it is, in the
+passage. He won&rsquo;t come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look
+in at our doors to see if we&rsquo;re awake. He&rsquo;ll have to make sure
+about us first, and then go down for the body afterwards. So that gives us a
+little time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-yes,&rdquo; said Bill thoughtfully. &ldquo;We might just do it, but
+it&rsquo;ll be a bit of a rush.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But wait. When he&rsquo;s gone down to the passage and got the body,
+what will he do next?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come out again,&rdquo; said Bill helpfully.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes; but which end?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill sat up with a start.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you think so? Just imagine him walking across the lawn in
+full view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms. Think of the
+awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering if anybody, any
+restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to wander to the window and look
+out into the night. There&rsquo;s still plenty of moonlight, Bill. Is he going
+to walk across the park in the moonlight, with all those windows staring at
+him? Not if he can help it. But he can get out by the bowling green, and then
+come to the pond without ever being in sight of the house, at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right. And that will just about give us time. Good. Now,
+what&rsquo;s the next thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he
+drops&mdash;whatever he drops.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So that we can fish it out again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If we can see what it is, we shan&rsquo;t want to. The police can have a
+go at it to-morrow. But if it&rsquo;s something we can&rsquo;t identify from a
+distance, then we must try and get it out. To see whether it&rsquo;s worth
+telling the police about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-yes,&rdquo; said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. &ldquo;Of course, the
+trouble with water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I
+don&rsquo;t know if that had occurred to you.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It had,&rdquo; smiled Antony. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s come and have a look at
+it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence, looking at
+the pond beneath them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See anything?&rdquo; said Antony at last.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The fence on the other side.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s rather useful, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically,&rdquo; added Bill. &ldquo;A moment
+later, his friend Watson had hurled him into the pond.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I love being Sherlocky,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s very unfair of
+you not to play up to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?&rdquo; said Bill obediently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because you can take a bearing on it. You see&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, you needn&rsquo;t stop to explain to me what a bearing is.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t going to. But you&rsquo;re lying here&rdquo;&mdash;he
+looked up&mdash;&ldquo;underneath this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old
+boat and drops his parcel in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and
+mark it off on the fence there. Say it&rsquo;s the fifth post from the end.
+Well, then I take a line from <i>my</i> tree&mdash;we&rsquo;ll find one for me
+directly&mdash;and it comes on to the twentieth post, say. And where the two
+lines meet, there shall the eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I
+almost forgot to remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous
+diving act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, really? It&rsquo;s beastly dirty water, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of
+Jasher.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped&mdash;oh,
+well, it&rsquo;s a warm night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just the night for a bathe,&rdquo; agreed Antony, getting up.
+&ldquo;Well now, let&rsquo;s have a look for my tree.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill&rsquo;s
+tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet nearer to
+heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the other end of the
+copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally conspicuous.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s where I shall be,&rdquo; said Antony, pointing to it.
+&ldquo;Now, for the Lord&rsquo;s sake, count your posts accurately.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake,&rdquo; said Bill
+with feeling. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to spend the whole night diving.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then
+count backwards to the beginning of the fence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s how you will have to do the last part of it,&rdquo;
+said Antony with a smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They started
+to walk back to the house together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one thing which worries me rather,&rdquo; said Antony.
+&ldquo;Where does Cayley sleep?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Next door to me. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s just possible that he might have another look at you
+after he&rsquo;s come back from the pond. I don&rsquo;t think he&rsquo;d bother
+about it in the ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think
+he might glance in.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking
+up mud.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked
+vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it, and one
+arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for the head. You
+know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to feel that you were still
+sleeping peacefully.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather. I&rsquo;m awfully good at that. I&rsquo;ll make him up something
+really good. But what about you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m at the other end of the house; he&rsquo;s hardly likely to
+bother about me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first
+visit. Still, I may as well&mdash;to be on the safe side.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He nodded,
+and took out his watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Time to change?&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Just about,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t forget my letter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not. In fact, we had tea there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; He looked away and said carelessly, &ldquo;How were they
+all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and&mdash;and all
+that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing was coming, he
+turned round, said, &ldquo;Come on, Tony,&rdquo; and led the way upstairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Got all you want?&rdquo; he said at the top of the stairs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so. Come and see me before you go down.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window. He
+pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over the door at
+the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which projected out into
+the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his left. He could step out on to
+the top of the door, and from there drop easily to the ground. Getting back
+would be little more difficult. There was a convenient water-pipe which would
+help.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. &ldquo;Final
+instructions?&rdquo; he asked, sitting down on the bed. &ldquo;By the way, how
+are we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Billiards?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto. Anything you like.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t talk too loud,&rdquo; said Antony in a lower voice.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re more or less over the hall, and Cayley may be there.&rdquo;
+He led the way to the window. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll go out this way to-night.
+Going downstairs is too risky. It&rsquo;s easy enough; better put on
+tennis-shoes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right. I say, in case I don&rsquo;t get another chance alone with
+you&mdash;what do I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he
+just knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don&rsquo;t overdo the snoring.
+But if he makes a hell of a noise, you&rsquo;ll have to wake up and rub your
+eyes, and wonder what on earth he&rsquo;s doing in your room at all. You know
+the sort of thing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right. And about the dummy figure. I&rsquo;ll make it up directly we
+come upstairs, and hide it under the bed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... I think we&rsquo;d better go completely to bed ourselves. We
+shan&rsquo;t take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get
+safely into the passage. Then come into my room.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right.... Are you ready?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went downstairs together.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/>
+Mr. Beverley Takes the Water</h2>
+
+<p>
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he suggested
+a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front of the house,
+saying very little to each other, until Bill could stand it no longer. For the
+last twenty turns he had been slowing down hopefully each time they came to the
+door, but the hint had always been lost on his companions, and each time
+another turn had been taken. But in the end he had been firm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about a little billiards?&rdquo; he said, shaking himself free from
+the others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will you play?&rdquo; said Antony to Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll watch you,&rdquo; he said, and he had watched them resolutely
+until the game, and then another game after that, had been played.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, thank heaven for bed,&rdquo; said Bill; putting down his glass.
+&ldquo;Are you coming?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve just got one or two little things to do,&rdquo; said Cayley.
+&ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t be long following you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, good night, then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good night,&rdquo; called Bill from half-way up the stairs. &ldquo;Good
+night, Tony.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything
+happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what to wear
+on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and a dark coat;
+perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse for some time.
+And&mdash;good idea&mdash;a towel. He would want it later on, and meanwhile he
+could wear it round his waist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tennis-shoes.... There. Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy figure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen. How long
+to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and then, standing by
+the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the new
+darkness.... He could only just make out the bed in the corner of the room.
+Cayley would want more light than that if he were to satisfy himself from the
+door that the bed was occupied. He pulled the curtains a little way back. That
+was about right. He could have another look later on, when he had the dummy
+figure in the bed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn&rsquo;t that he wanted his
+friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his
+business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were safely
+in their bedrooms. Cayley&rsquo;s business would make no noise, give no sign,
+to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as the household
+was really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure himself about his
+guests, he would have to wait until they were far enough on their way to sleep
+not to be disturbed by him as he came up to reassure himself. So it amounted to
+the same thing, really. He would wait until they were asleep.... until they
+were asleep.... asleep....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering thoughts and
+came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal if he went to
+sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep .... And then, in an instant, he was
+intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at all!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone upstairs, he
+had dived down into the passage and set about his business. Suppose, even now,
+he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of his. Good heavens, what
+fools they had been! How could Antony have taken such a risk? Put yourself in
+Cayley&rsquo;s place, he had said. But how was it possible? They weren&rsquo;t
+Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would never know what he had dropped
+into it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Listen!</i>.... Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now.
+Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.... The door was opening.
+He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord, suppose Cayley really
+<i>was</i> a murderer! Why, even now he might be&mdash;no, he mustn&rsquo;t
+think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round. He
+mustn&rsquo;t turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why
+didn&rsquo;t the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his
+hand&mdash;no, he mustn&rsquo;t think of that. He was asleep. But why
+didn&rsquo;t the door shut?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed, a sigh of
+relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very natural sound&mdash;a
+deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one to it to make it seem
+more natural. The door was shut.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up. As quickly and as noiselessly as
+possible he dressed himself in the dark. He put the dummy figure in the bed,
+arranged the clothes so that just enough but not too much of it was showing,
+and stood by the door looking at it. For a casual glance the room was just
+about light enough. Then very quietly, very slowly he opened the door. All was
+still. There was no light from beneath the door of Cayley&rsquo;s room. Very
+quietly, very carefully he crept along the passage to Antony&rsquo;s room. He
+opened the door and went in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony was still in bed. Bill walked across to wake him up, and then stopped
+rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs. There was somebody else in the
+room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right, Bill,&rdquo; said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out
+from the curtains.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather good, isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; said Antony, coming closer and
+pointing to the bed. &ldquo;Come on; the sooner we get out now, the
+better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him. They reached
+the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across the lawn and so, over
+the fence, into the park. It was not until they were out of sight of the house
+that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I quite thought it was you in bed,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hoped you would. I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley
+doesn&rsquo;t call again. It&rsquo;s a pity to waste it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He came all right just now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rather. What about you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There wouldn&rsquo;t have been much point in his killing you,&rdquo;
+said Antony prosaically. &ldquo;Besides being too risky.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Bill. And then, &ldquo;I <i>had</i> rather hoped that it
+was his love for me which restrained him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I doubt it.... You didn&rsquo;t turn up your light when you
+dressed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on
+anything together.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees which
+crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously silent. It
+seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s your tree, there&rsquo;s mine. As long as you don&rsquo;t
+move, there&rsquo;s no chance of his seeing you. After he&rsquo;s gone,
+don&rsquo;t come out till I do. He won&rsquo;t be here for a quarter of an hour
+or so, so don&rsquo;t be impatient.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto,&rdquo; whispered Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The minutes went by slowly. To Antony, lying hidden in the undergrowth at the
+foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting itself. Suppose Cayley had to
+make more than one journey that night? He might come back to find them in the
+boat; one of them, indeed, in the water. And if they decided to wait in hiding,
+on the chance of Cayley coming back again, what was the least time they could
+safely allow? Perhaps it would be better to go round to the front of the house
+and watch for his return there, the light in his bedroom, before conducting
+their experiments at the pond. But then they might miss his second visit in
+this way, if he made a second visit. It was difficult.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and suddenly, as
+if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by the boat. In his hand was
+a small brown bag.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using an oar as a
+punt-pole, pushed slowly off. Then, very silently, he rowed towards the middle
+of the pond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had stopped. The oars rested on the water. He picked up the bag from between
+his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and rested it lightly on the water
+for a moment. Then he let go. It sank slowly. He waited there, watching;
+afraid, perhaps, that it might rise again. Antony began to count....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place. He tied up the boat, looked
+carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him, and then turned
+to the water again. For a long time, as it seemed to the watchers, he stood
+there, very big, very silent, in the moonlight. At last he seemed satisfied.
+Whatever his secret was, he had hidden it; and so with a gentle sigh, as
+unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard it, Cayley turned away and vanished
+again as quietly as he had come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees. He waited there
+for Bill to join him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Six,&rdquo; whispered Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going round to the front of the house. You get back to your
+tree and watch, in case Cayley comes again. Your bedroom is the left-hand end
+one, and Cayley&rsquo;s the end but one? Is that right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right. Wait in hiding till I come back. I don&rsquo;t know how long I
+shall be, but don&rsquo;t be impatient. It will seem longer than it is.&rdquo;
+He patted Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod of the head he left
+him there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was in the bag? What could Cayley want to hide other than a key or a
+revolver? Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need to put them in a bag
+first. What was in the bag? Something which wouldn&rsquo;t sink of itself;
+something which needed to be helped with stones before it would hide itself
+safely in the mud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Well, they would find that out. There was no object in worrying about it now.
+Bill had a dirty night&rsquo;s work in front of him. But where was the body
+which Antony had expected so confidently or, if there were no body, where was
+Mark?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley? As quickly as he could Antony had
+got to the front of the house and was now lying in the shrubbery which bordered
+the lawn, waiting for the light to go up in Cayley&rsquo;s window. If it went
+up in Bill&rsquo;s window, then they were discovered. It would mean that Cayley
+had glanced into Bill&rsquo;s room, had been suspicious of the dummy figure in
+the bed, and had turned up the light to make sure. After that, it was war
+between them. But if it went up in Cayley&rsquo;s room&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a light. Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement. It was in
+Bill&rsquo;s room. War!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up, blowing the
+moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest of the house. Bill had
+left his curtains undrawn. It was careless of him; the first stupid thing he
+had done, but&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the bushes.
+There was another window beyond Cayley&rsquo;s, and there was no light in it.
+The declaration of war was postponed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed. After all it was only polite to
+return Cayley&rsquo;s own solicitude earlier in the night. Politeness demanded
+that one should not disport oneself on the pond until one&rsquo;s friends were
+comfortably tucked up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he might
+spoil everything by forgetting the number &ldquo;six.&rdquo; It was the sixth
+post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These he
+arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond, counted up
+to the sixth post, and murmured &ldquo;six&rdquo; to himself again. Then he
+looked down at his twigs.
+One&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;four&mdash;five&mdash;six&mdash;seven.
+<i>Seven!</i> Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit
+which had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said
+&ldquo;six&rdquo; to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all
+right. Six. He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six
+together. Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of a tall
+man&mdash;well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to remember it.
+Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about the bag, and what
+Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of the water and of the mud at
+the bottom; and was still so wondering, and saying, &ldquo;Good Lord, what a
+life!&rdquo; to himself, when Antony reappeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Six,&rdquo; he said firmly. &ldquo;Sixth post from the end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; smiled Antony. &ldquo;Mine was the eighteenth&mdash;a
+little way past it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you go off for?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To see Cayley into bed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it all right?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall see it
+more easily. I&rsquo;ll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to undress
+here or in the boat?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some here, and some in the boat. You&rsquo;re quite sure that you
+wouldn&rsquo;t like to do the diving yourself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite, thanks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the sixth post
+of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position, and then finished
+his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the eighteenth post. When they
+were ready, they got into the boat, Antony taking the oars.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I&rsquo;m in a line with your two
+marks.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re about there now,&rdquo; said Bill at last.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s pretty well right.&rdquo; He turned the boat&rsquo;s
+nose round until it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain.
+&ldquo;You see my tree and the other coat?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right. Now then, I&rsquo;m going to row gently along this line until
+we&rsquo;re dead in between the two. Get it as exact as you can&mdash;for your
+own sake.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Steady!&rdquo; said Bill warningly. &ldquo;Back a little.... a little
+more .... a little more forward again.... Right.&rdquo; Antony left the oars on
+the water and looked around. As far as he could tell, they were in an exact
+line with each pair of landmarks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then, Bill, in you go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t dive from the boat, old boy,&rdquo; said Antony
+hastily. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll shift its position. Slide in gently.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s it like?&rdquo; said Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cold. Well, here&rsquo;s luck to it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was gone. Antony
+steadied the boat, and took another look at his landmarks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s pretty
+muddy,&rdquo; he protested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Weeds?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thank the Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, try again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared. Again Antony coaxed the boat back into
+position, and again Bill popped up, this time in front of him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I feel that if I threw you a sardine,&rdquo; said Antony, with a smile,
+&ldquo;you&rsquo;d catch it in your mouth quite prettily.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s awfully easy to be funny from where you are. How much longer
+have I got to go on doing this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked at his watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About three hours. We must get back before daylight. But be quicker if
+you can, because it&rsquo;s rather cold for me sitting here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again. He was under for
+almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on his face when it was visible
+again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got it, but it&rsquo;s devilish hard to get up. I&rsquo;m not
+sure that it isn&rsquo;t too heavy for me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Antony. He brought out a ball of
+thick string from his pocket. &ldquo;Get this through the handle if you can,
+and then we can both pull.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good man.&rdquo; He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again. &ldquo;Now then.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat. Bill clambered in after it,
+and Antony rowed back. &ldquo;Well done, Watson,&rdquo; he said quietly, as
+they landed. He fetched their two coats, and then waited, the bag in his hand,
+while Bill dried and dressed himself. As soon as the latter was ready, he took
+his arm and led him into the copse. He put the bag down and felt in his
+pockets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall light a pipe before I open it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What about
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes. Bill&rsquo;s hand was a little
+unsteady. Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ready?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed the catch
+and opened it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Clothes!&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out. It was a wet brown flannel
+coat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you recognize it?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark&rsquo;s brown flannel suit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The one he is advertised as having run away in?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It looks like it. Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters. He
+considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose I&rsquo;d better read them,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I mean,
+just to see&mdash;&rdquo; He looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded. Antony
+turned on his torch and glanced at them. Bill waited anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Mark.... Hallo!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about. From Robert.
+&lsquo;Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you&mdash;&rsquo; Yes, I
+suppose I had better keep this. Well, that&rsquo;s his coat. Let&rsquo;s have
+out the rest of it.&rdquo; He took the remaining clothes from the bag and
+spread them out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re all here,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;Shirt, tie, socks,
+underclothes, shoes&mdash;yes, all of them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All that he was wearing yesterday?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you make of it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it what you expected?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s too absurd,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I expected&mdash;well, you
+know what I expected. A body. A body in a suit of clothes. Well, perhaps it
+would be safer to hide them separately. The body here, and the clothes in the
+passage, where they would never betray themselves. And now he takes a great
+deal of trouble to hide the clothes here, and doesn&rsquo;t bother about the
+body at all.&rdquo; He shook his head. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a bit lost for the
+moment, Bill, and that&rsquo;s the fact.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anything else there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony felt in the bag.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stones and&mdash;yes, there&rsquo;s something else.&rdquo; He took it
+out and held it up. &ldquo;There we are, Bill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the office key.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By Jove, you were right.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down on the
+grass. A dozen large stones fell out&mdash;and something else. He flashed down
+his torch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another key,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in silence,
+thinking. Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt his thoughts, but at
+last he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I put these things back?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked up with a start.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What? Oh, yes. No, I&rsquo;ll put them back. You give me a light, will
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag, pausing as he
+took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed to Bill, that it had
+something to tell him if only he could read it. When the last of them was
+inside, he still waited there on his knees, thinking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s the lot,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s the lot,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and that&rsquo;s the
+funny thing about it. You&rsquo;re sure it is the lot?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me the torch a moment.&rdquo; He took it and flashed it over the
+ground between them. &ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s the lot. It&rsquo;s funny.&rdquo;
+He stood up, the bag in his hands. &ldquo;Now let&rsquo;s find a hiding-place
+for these, and then&mdash;&rdquo; He said no more, but stepped off through the
+trees, Bill following him meekly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of the copse,
+Antony became more communicative. He took the two keys out of his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key of
+the passage cupboard. So I thought that perhaps we might have a look at the
+cupboard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, do you really think it is?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t see what else it can be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why should he want to throw it away?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to wash
+his hands of the passage. He&rsquo;d throw the passage away if he could. I
+don&rsquo;t think it matters much one way or another, and I don&rsquo;t suppose
+there&rsquo;s anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel that we must
+look.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you still think Mark&rsquo;s body might be there?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. And yet where else can it be? Unless I&rsquo;m hopelessly wrong, and
+Cayley never killed him at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know you&rsquo;ll think me an ass&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Bill, I&rsquo;m such an obvious ass myself that I should be
+delighted to think you are too.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him to
+escape, just as we thought at first. I know you proved afterwards that it was
+impossible, but suppose it happened in a way we don&rsquo;t know about and for
+reasons we don&rsquo;t know about. I mean, there are such a lot of funny things
+about the whole show that&mdash;well, almost anything might have
+happened.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re quite right. Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, this clothes business. Doesn&rsquo;t that seem rather to
+bear out the escaping theory? Mark&rsquo;s brown suit was known to the police.
+Couldn&rsquo;t Cayley have brought him another one in the passage, to escape
+in, and then have had the brown one on his hands? And thought it safest to hide
+it in the pond?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Anthony thoughtfully. Then: &ldquo;Go on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill went on eagerly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It all seems to fit in, you know. I mean even with your first
+theory&mdash;that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley for
+help. Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he&rsquo;d have told Mark that he
+had nothing to be afraid of. But he isn&rsquo;t playing fair; he wants to get
+Mark out of the way because of the girl. Well, this is his chance. He makes
+Mark as frightened as possible, and tells him that his only hope is to run
+away. Well, naturally, he does all he can to get him well away, because if Mark
+is caught, the whole story of Cayley&rsquo;s treachery comes out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. But isn&rsquo;t it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything? It wastes a good deal of time, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; in great disappointment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, it&rsquo;s not as bad as that, Bill,&rdquo; said Antony with a
+smile. &ldquo;I daresay the underclothes could be explained. But here&rsquo;s
+the difficulty. Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or whatever it
+was, when Cayley was the only person who saw him in brown?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, because Cayley told the police. You see, even if Mark had had lunch
+in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley could always have
+pretended that he had changed into blue after lunch, because only Cayley saw
+him afterwards. So if Cayley had told the Inspector that he was wearing blue,
+Mark could have escaped quite comfortably in his brown, without needing to
+change at all.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But that&rsquo;s just what he did do,&rdquo; cried Bill triumphantly.
+&ldquo;What fools we are!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes!&rdquo; insisted Bill. &ldquo;Of course! Don&rsquo;t you see?
+Mark did change after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting away,
+Cayley lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in which the servants
+had seen him. Well, then he was afraid that the police might examine
+Mark&rsquo;s clothes and find the brown suit still there, so he hid it, and
+then dropped it in the pond afterwards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing. Bill began to speak
+again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t say anything more, old boy; you&rsquo;ve given me quite
+enough to think about. Don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s bother about it to-night.
+We&rsquo;ll just have a look at this cupboard and then get to bed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night. It was empty save for a
+few old bottles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s that,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to search for
+something.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What are you looking for?&rdquo; asked Bill at last.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Something that isn&rsquo;t there,&rdquo; said Antony, getting up and
+dusting his trousers. And he locked the door again.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>
+Guess-work</h2>
+
+<p>
+The inquest was at three o&rsquo;clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim
+on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o&rsquo;clock his bag was packed,
+and waiting to be taken to &lsquo;The George.&rsquo; To Bill, coming upstairs
+after a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little
+surprising.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the hurry?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;None. But we don&rsquo;t want to come back here after the inquest. Get
+your packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto.&rdquo; He turned to go to his room, and then came back again.
+&ldquo;I say, are we going to tell Cayley that we&rsquo;re staying at
+&lsquo;The George&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not staying at &lsquo;The George,&rsquo; Bill. Not
+officially. You&rsquo;re going back to London.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for you
+when you catch a train there after the inquest. You can tell him that
+you&rsquo;ve got to see the Bishop of London at once. The fact that you are
+hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it seem more natural that I
+should resume my interrupted solitude at &lsquo;The George&rsquo; as soon as
+you have gone.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then where do I sleep to-night?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect, in my
+bed, unless they&rsquo;ve got another spare room at &lsquo;The George.&rsquo;
+I&rsquo;ve put your confirmation robe&mdash;I mean your pyjamas and brushes and
+things&mdash;in my bag, ready for you. Is there anything else you want to know?
+No? Then go and pack. And meet me at ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in
+the hall or somewhere. I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my
+Watson.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good,&rdquo; said Bill, and went off to his room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley, they
+wandered out together into the park.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree.
+&ldquo;Talk away.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning,&rdquo; began Antony.
+&ldquo;The brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and working
+at this thing from the wrong end altogether.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s helpful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course it&rsquo;s very hampering being a detective, when you
+don&rsquo;t know anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that
+you&rsquo;re doing detection, and you can&rsquo;t have people up to
+cross-examine them, and you have neither the energy nor the means to make
+proper inquiries; and, in short, when you&rsquo;re doing the whole thing in a
+thoroughly amateur, haphazard way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For amateurs I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;re doing at all badly,&rdquo;
+protested Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No; not for amateurs. But if we had been professionals, I believe we
+should have gone at it from the other end. The Robert end. We&rsquo;ve been
+wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time. Now let&rsquo;s wonder about
+Robert for a bit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We know so little about him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s see what we do know. First of all, then, we know
+vaguely that he was a bad lot&mdash;the sort of brother who is hushed up in
+front of other people.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a rather
+unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And then we know rather a curious thing. We know that Mark told you all
+that this black sheep was coming. Now, why did he tell you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; he said slowly, &ldquo;that he knew we were bound to
+see him, and thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But were you bound to see him? You were all away playing golf.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, then. That&rsquo;s one thing we&rsquo;ve discovered. Mark
+knew that Robert was staying in the house that night. Or shall we put it this
+way&mdash;he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert out of the house
+at once.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;This is getting interesting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He also knew something else,&rdquo; went on Antony. &ldquo;He knew that
+Robert was bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him. He
+couldn&rsquo;t pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the
+Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once, because
+you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. That&rsquo;s sound enough.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now, doesn&rsquo;t it strike you that Mark made up his mind about
+all that rather quickly?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read it
+he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second he thought
+out the whole business and came to a decision&mdash;to two decisions. He
+considered the possibility of getting Robert out of the way before you came
+back, and decided that it was impossible. He considered the possibility of
+Robert&rsquo;s behaving like an ordinary decent person in public, and decided
+that it was very unlikely. He came to those two decisions instantaneously, as
+he was reading the letter. Isn&rsquo;t that rather quick work?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s the explanation?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before answering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the explanation? Well, let&rsquo;s leave it for a moment
+and take another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs.
+Norbury.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mrs. Norbury?&rdquo; said Bill, surprised.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a blot
+upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things. Either keep it
+from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come out, tell them himself
+before the news came to them indirectly. Well, he told them. But the funny
+thing is that he told them the day before Robert&rsquo;s letter came. Robert
+came, and was killed, the day before yesterday&mdash;Tuesday. Mark told Mrs.
+Norbury about him on Monday. What do you make of that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Coincidence,&rdquo; said Bill, after careful thought. &ldquo;He&rsquo;d
+always meant to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was
+finally settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got
+Robert&rsquo;s letter, and felt jolly glad that he&rsquo;d told her in
+time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it might be that, but it&rsquo;s rather a curious coincidence. And
+here is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred to me in
+the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it&rsquo;s
+this&mdash;he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the
+car.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry, Tony; I&rsquo;m dense this morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About six hundred yards.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark stops
+the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says, &lsquo;Oh, by
+the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don&rsquo;t think I ever told you that I have a shady
+brother called Robert,&rsquo; walks six hundred yards up the hill again, gets
+into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that likely?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill frowned heavily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but I don&rsquo;t see what you&rsquo;re getting at. Likely or not
+likely, we know he did do it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong reason
+for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is that he knew on
+that morning&mdash;Monday morning, not Tuesday&mdash;that Robert was coming to
+see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And that would explain the other point&mdash;his instantaneous decision
+at breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn&rsquo;t instantaneous.
+He knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you would all
+have to know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then how do you explain the letter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s have a look at it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass between
+them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>&ldquo;Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way
+from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal your
+surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or
+thereabouts.&rdquo;</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No date mentioned, you see,&rdquo; said Antony. &ldquo;Just
+to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But he got this on Tuesday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes! he read it out to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the back of
+it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about the postmark?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t got the envelope, unfortunately.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you think that he got this letter on Monday.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think&mdash;I feel
+almost certain&mdash;that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that going to help us much?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. It makes it more difficult. There&rsquo;s something rather uncanny
+about it all. I don&rsquo;t understand it.&rdquo; He was silent for a little,
+and then added, &ldquo;I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What about last night? I&rsquo;m longing to hear what you make of that.
+Have you been thinking it out at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Last night,&rdquo; said Antony thoughtfully to himself. &ldquo;Yes, last
+night wants some explaining.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had Antony been
+looking for in the cupboard?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; began Antony slowly, &ldquo;that after last night we
+must give up the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I
+don&rsquo;t believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of
+clothes when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more
+important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that Cayley had
+to hide.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why not have kept them in the passage?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark&rsquo;s. For all you or
+I or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had, I
+should think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably. But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley. The brown suit hid
+a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden. We all know that in
+theory the safest hiding-place is the most obvious, but in practice very few
+people have the nerve to risk it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we just come back to where we were,&rdquo; he complained.
+&ldquo;Mark killed his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the
+passage; either in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way
+out of it. And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bad luck, Bill,&rdquo; he said sympathetically. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+only one murder, after all. I&rsquo;m awfully sorry about it. It was my fault
+for&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shut up, you ass. You know I didn&rsquo;t mean that.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you seemed awfully disappointed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh confessed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was so exciting yesterday,&rdquo; he said apologetically, &ldquo;and
+we seemed to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful things,
+and now&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s so much more ordinary.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ordinary!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Ordinary! Well, I&rsquo;m dashed!
+Ordinary! If only <i>one</i> thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do
+something, but <i>everything</i> is ridiculous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill brightened up again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ridiculous? How?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Every way. Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night. You can
+explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes. You can explain the
+underclothes in some absurd way, if you like&mdash;you can say that Mark always
+changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed anybody from
+Australia&mdash;but why, in that case, my dear Watson, <i>why</i> didn&rsquo;t
+he change his collar?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His collar?&rdquo; said Bill in amazement.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His collar, Watson.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And it&rsquo;s all so ordinary,&rdquo; scoffed Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry, Tony, I didn&rsquo;t mean that. Tell me about the collar.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all. There was no collar in the bag last night.
+Shirt, socks, tie&mdash;everything except a collar. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?&rdquo; said Bill
+eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course. &lsquo;Why no collar?&rsquo; I said. For some reason Cayley
+considered it necessary to hide all Mark&rsquo;s clothes; not just the suit,
+but everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing, at the time of
+the murder. But he hadn&rsquo;t hidden the collar. Why? Had he left it out by
+mistake? So I looked in the cupboard. It wasn&rsquo;t there. Had he left it out
+on purpose? If so, why?&mdash;and where was it? Naturally I began to say to
+myself, &lsquo;Where have I seen a collar lately? A collar all by
+itself?&rsquo; And I remembered&mdash;what, Bill?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t ask me, Tony. I can&rsquo;t&mdash;By Jove!&rdquo; He threw
+up his head, &ldquo;In the basket in the office bedroom!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Exactly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But is that the one?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The one that goes with the rest of the clothes? I don&rsquo;t know.
+Where else can it be? But if so, why send the collar quite casually to the wash
+in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide everything else? Why,
+why, why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow,&rdquo; said Antony, getting up restlessly, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
+certain of one thing. Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming
+here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/>
+The Inquest</h2>
+
+<p>
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible nature of
+the tragedy which they had come to investigate that afternoon, proceeded to
+outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would be called to identify the
+deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the owner of the Red House, Mark
+Ablett. It would be shown that he was something of a ne&rsquo;er-do-well, who
+had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he had announced, in what
+might almost be called a threatening letter, his intention of visiting his
+brother that afternoon. There would be evidence of his arrival, of his being
+shown into the scene of the tragedy&mdash;a room in the Red House, commonly
+called &ldquo;the office&rdquo;&mdash;and of his brother&rsquo;s entrance into
+that room. The jury would have to form their own opinion as to what happened
+there. But whatever happened, happened almost instantaneously. Within two
+minutes of Mark Ablett&rsquo;s entrance, as would be shown in the evidence, a
+shot was heard, and when&mdash;perhaps five minutes later&mdash;the room was
+forced open, the dead body of Robert Ablett was found stretched upon the floor.
+As regards Mark Ablett, nobody had seen him from the moment of his going into
+the room, but evidence would be called to show that he had enough money on him
+at the time to take him to any other part of the country, and that a man
+answering to his description had been observed on the platform of Stanton
+station, apparently waiting to catch the 3.55 up train to London. As the jury
+would realize, such evidence of identity was not always reliable. Missing men
+had a way of being seen in a dozen different places at once. In any case, there
+was no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had disappeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Seems a sound man,&rdquo; whispered Antony to Bill. &ldquo;Doesn&rsquo;t
+talk too much.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence&mdash;he knew the facts
+of the case so well by now&mdash;but he wondered if Inspector Birch had
+developed any new theories. If so, they would appear in the Coroner&rsquo;s
+examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been coached by the police as
+to the important facts to be extracted from each witness. Bill was the first to
+be put through it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?&rdquo; he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over. &ldquo;Did you see it at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t see the actual writing. I saw the back of it. Mark was
+holding it up when he told us about his brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know what was in it, then?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill had a sudden shock. He had read the letter only that morning. He knew
+quite well what was in it. But it wouldn&rsquo;t do to admit this. And then,
+just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered: Antony had heard Cayley
+telling the Inspector.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I knew afterwards. I was told. But Mark didn&rsquo;t read it out at
+breakfast.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not frightened. Sort of bitter&mdash;and resigned. Sort of &lsquo;Oh,
+Lord, here we are again!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a titter here and there. The Coroner smiled, and tried to pretend
+that he hadn&rsquo;t.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Beverley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and Antony looked up
+with interest, wondering who he was.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He lives at the inner lodge,&rdquo; whispered Bill to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his lodge at a
+little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to him. He had seen the body
+and recognized it as the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did he say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Is this right for the Red House?&rsquo; or something like that,
+sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said, &lsquo;This is the Red House. Who do you want to see?&rsquo; He
+was a bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn&rsquo;t know what he was
+doing there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, he said, &lsquo;Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?&rsquo; It
+doesn&rsquo;t sound much put like that, sir, but I didn&rsquo;t care about the
+way he said it. So I got in front of him like, and said, &lsquo;What do you
+want, eh?&rsquo; and he gave a sort of chuckle and said, &lsquo;I want to see
+my dear brother Mark.&rsquo; Well, then I took a closer look at him, and I see
+that p&rsquo;raps he might be his brother, so I said, &lsquo;If you&rsquo;ll
+follow the drive, sir, you&rsquo;ll come to the house. Of course I can&rsquo;t
+say if Mr. Ablett&rsquo;s at home.&rsquo; And he gave a sort of nasty laugh
+again, and said, &lsquo;Fine place Mister Mark Ablett&rsquo;s got here. Plenty
+of money to spend, eh?&rsquo; Well, then I had another look at him, sir,
+because gentlemen don&rsquo;t talk like that, and if he was Mr. Ablett&rsquo;s
+brother&mdash;but before I could make up my mind, he laughed and went on.
+That&rsquo;s all I can tell you, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room, nor did Antony
+take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos intended to remain there
+until the inquest was over.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;s Amos talking to now?&rdquo; he whispered to Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Parsons. One of the gardeners. He&rsquo;s at the outside lodge on the
+Stanton road. They&rsquo;re all here to-day. Sort of holiday for
+&rsquo;em.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if he&rsquo;s giving evidence too,&rdquo; thought Antony. He
+was. He followed Amos. He had been at work on the lawn in front of the house,
+and had seen Robert Ablett arrive. He didn&rsquo;t hear the shot&mdash;not to
+notice. He was a little hard of hearing. He had seen a gentleman arrive about
+five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you see him in court now?&rdquo; asked the Coroner. Parsons looked
+round slowly. Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s him,&rdquo; said Parsons, pointing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was about five minutes afterwards?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About that, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman&rsquo;s
+arrival?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir. That is to say I didn&rsquo;t see &rsquo;em.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Stevens followed. She gave her evidence much as she had given it to the
+Inspector. Nothing new was brought out by her examination. Then came Elsie. As
+the reporters scribbled down what she had overheard, they added in brackets
+&ldquo;<i>Sensation</i>&rdquo; for the first time that afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?&rdquo; asked the
+Coroner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Almost at once, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A minute?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t really say, sir. It was so quick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you still in the hall?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, sir. I was just outside Mrs. Stevens&rsquo; room. The
+housekeeper, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t think of going back to the hall to see what had
+happened?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, no, sir. I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, &lsquo;Oh,
+what was that?&rsquo; frightened-like. And I said, &lsquo;That was in the
+house, Mrs. Stevens, that was.&rsquo; Just like something going off, it
+was.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; said the Coroner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went into the
+witness-box; not &ldquo;<i>Sensation</i>&rdquo; this time, but an eager and, as
+it seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest. Now they were getting to grips with
+the drama.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally&mdash;the lies with the same slow
+deliberation as the truth. Antony watched him intently, wondering what it was
+about him which had this odd sort of attractiveness. For Antony, who knew that
+he was lying, and lying (as he believed) not for Mark&rsquo;s sake but his own,
+yet could not help sharing some of that general sympathy with him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?&rdquo; asked the Coroner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not to my knowledge. I think I should have known if he had been.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were alone with him all that morning. Did he talk about this visit
+of Robert&rsquo;s at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t see very much of him in the morning. I was at work in my
+room, and outside, and so on. We lunched together and he talked of it then a
+little.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In what terms?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo; he hesitated, and then went on. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t
+think of a better word than &lsquo;peevishly.&rsquo; Occasionally he said,
+&lsquo;What do you think he wants?&rsquo; or &lsquo;Why couldn&rsquo;t he have
+stayed where he was?&rsquo; or &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t like the tone of his
+letter. Do you think he means trouble?&rsquo; He talked rather in that kind of
+way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in
+England?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... You didn&rsquo;t hear any conversation between the brothers when
+they were in the office together?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No. I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone in, and I
+was there all the time.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was the library door open?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you see or hear the last witness at all?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think so. Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hasty-tempered, yes,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But not
+violent-tempered.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was he fairly athletic? Active and quick?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Active and quick, yes. Not particularly strong.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.... One question more. Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. He always had one £100 note on him, and perhaps ten or twenty
+pounds as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Cayley.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat. &ldquo;Damn it,&rdquo; said Antony to
+himself, &ldquo;why do I like the fellow?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Antony Gillingham!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt. Who was this stranger who
+had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He explained how he came to be staying at &lsquo;The George&rsquo; at Woodham,
+how he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how he had walked
+over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just after the tragedy.
+Thinking it over afterwards he was fairly certain that he had heard the shot,
+but it had not made any impression on him at the time. He had come to the house
+from the Woodham end and consequently had seen nothing of Robert Ablett, who
+had been a few minutes in front of him. From this point his evidence coincided
+with Cayley&rsquo;s.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You and the last witness reached the French windows together and found
+them shut?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You pushed them in and came to the body. Of course you had no idea whose
+body it was?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did Mr. Cayley say anything?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he saw it,
+he said, &lsquo;Thank God.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again the reporters wrote &ldquo;<i>Sensation</i>.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you understand what he meant by that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett. Then he
+explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with whom he
+lived&mdash;Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Did he seem upset?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very much so at first. Less when he found that it wasn&rsquo;t
+Mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at the back of
+the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared sternly in the
+direction from which it came. The nervous gentleman hastily decided that the
+time had come to do up his bootlace. The Coroner put down his glasses and
+continued.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the
+drive?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thank you, Mr. Gillingham.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was followed by Inspector Birch. The Inspector, realizing that this was his
+afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon him, produced a plan of the
+house and explained the situation of the different rooms. The plan was then
+handed to the jury.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House at 4.42
+p.m. on the afternoon in question. He had been received by Mr. Matthew Cayley,
+who had made a short statement to him, and he had then proceeded to examine the
+scene of the crime. The French windows had been forced from outside. The door
+leading into the hall was locked; he had searched the room thoroughly and had
+found no trace of a key. In the bedroom leading out of the office he had found
+an open window. There were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and,
+as he found from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching it with
+the boots. A few yards outside the window a shrubbery began. There were no
+recent footmarks outside the window, but the ground was in a very hard
+condition owing to the absence of rain. In the shrubbery, however, he found
+several twigs on the ground, recently broken off, together with other evidence
+that some body had been forcing its way through. He had questioned everybody
+connected with the estate, and none of them had been into the shrubbery
+recently. By forcing a way through the shrubbery it was possible for a person
+to make a detour of the house and get to the Stanton end of the park without
+ever being in sight of the house itself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had made inquiries about the deceased. Deceased had left for Australia some
+fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble at home. Deceased was not
+well spoken of in the village from which he and his brother had come. Deceased
+and his brother had never been on good terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had
+come into money had been a cause of great bitterness between them. It was
+shortly after this that Robert had left for Australia.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station. It had been market-day at Stanton and
+the station had been more full of arrivals than usual. Nobody had particularly
+noticed the arrival of Robert Ablett; there had been a good many passengers by
+the 2.10 train that afternoon, the train by which Robert had undoubtedly come
+from London. A witness, however, would state that he noticed a man resembling
+Mark Ablett at the station at 3.53 p.m. that afternoon, and this man caught the
+3.55 up train to town.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House. He had dragged this, but
+without result....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all the time.
+Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be got from that. He felt
+so close to the truth; at any moment something might give his brain the one
+little hint which it wanted. Inspector Birch was just pursuing the ordinary.
+Whatever else this case was, it was not ordinary. There was something uncanny
+about it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+John Borden was giving evidence. He was on the up platform seeing a friend off
+by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon. He had noticed a man on the platform with
+coat collar turned up and a scarf round his chin. He had wondered why the man
+should do this on such a hot day. The man seemed to be trying to escape
+observation. Directly the train came in, he hurried into a carriage. And so on.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s always a John Borden at every murder case,&rdquo; said
+Antony to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Once or twice, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it he?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar turned
+up and the scarf and all. But directly I heard of the sad affair, and that Mr.
+Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden, &lsquo;Now I wonder if that was Mr.
+Ablett I saw at the station?&rsquo; So then we talked it over and decided that
+I ought to come and tell Inspector Birch. It was just Mr. Ablett&rsquo;s
+height, sir.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony went on with his thoughts....
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Coroner was summing up. The jury, he said, had now heard all the evidence
+and would have to decide what had happened in that room between the two
+brothers. How had the deceased met his death? The medical evidence would
+probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett had died from the effects of a
+bullet-wound in the head. Who had fired that bullet? If Robert Ablett had fired
+it himself, no doubt they would bring in a verdict of suicide, but if this had
+been so, where was the revolver which had fired it, and what had become of Mark
+Ablett? If they disbelieved in this possibility of suicide, what remained?
+Accidental death, justifiable homicide, and murder. Could the deceased have
+been killed accidentally? It was possible, but then would Mark Ablett have run
+away? The evidence that he had run away from the scene of the crime was strong.
+His cousin had seen him go into the room, the servant Elsie Wood had heard him
+quarrelling with his brother in the room, the door had been locked from the
+inside, and there were signs that outside the open window some one had pushed
+his way very recently through the shrubbery. Who, if not Mark? They would have
+then to consider whether he would have run away if he had been guiltless of his
+brother&rsquo;s death. No doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes. It
+was possible that if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had shot his
+brother, it might also be proved that he was justified in so doing, and that
+when he ran away from his brother&rsquo;s corpse he had really nothing to fear
+at the hands of the Law. In this connection he need hardly remind the jury that
+they were not the final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett guilty of
+murder it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when he was
+apprehended.... The jury could consider their verdict.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They considered it. They announced that the deceased had died as the result of
+a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired by his brother Mark Ablett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side. But Antony was gone. Across the room
+he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the door together, and Antony was
+between them.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/>
+Mr. Beverley is Tactful</h2>
+
+<p>
+The inquest had been held at the &ldquo;Lamb&rdquo; at Stanton; at Stanton
+Robert Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his
+friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would be
+coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley would be a
+little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at the back of the inn, lit
+a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and weather-beaten poster on the stable
+wall. &ldquo;GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER&rdquo; it announced, to take place on
+&ldquo;Wednesday, Decem.&rdquo; Bill smiled to himself as he looked at it, for
+the part of Joe, a loquacious postman, had been played by &ldquo;William B.
+Beverl,&rdquo; as the remnants of the poster still maintained, and he had been
+much less loquacious than the author had intended, having forgotten his words
+completely, but it had all been great fun. And then he stopped smiling, for
+there would be no more fun now at the Red House.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry to keep you waiting,&rdquo; said the voice of Antony behind him.
+&ldquo;My old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill&rsquo;s arm, and smiled happily at
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why were you so keen about them?&rdquo; asked Bill a little resentfully.
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t think where on earth you had got to.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony didn&rsquo;t say anything. He was staring at the poster.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When did this happen?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony waved to the poster.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that? Last Christmas. It was rather fun.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were you good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rotten. I don&rsquo;t profess to be an actor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mark good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rather. He loves it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rev. Henry Stutters&mdash;Mr. Matthew Cay,&rdquo; read Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was that our friend Cayley?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any good?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, much better than I expected. He wasn&rsquo;t keen, but Mark made
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Miss Norris wasn&rsquo;t playing, I see.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Tony, she&rsquo;s a professional. Of course she
+wasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A great success, was it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, rather!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a fool, and a damned fool,&rdquo; Antony announced solemnly.
+&ldquo;And a damned fool,&rdquo; he said again under his breath, as he led Bill
+away from the poster, and out of the yard into the road. &ldquo;And a damned
+fool. Even now&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off and then asked suddenly, &ldquo;Did
+Mark ever have much trouble with his teeth?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He went to his dentist a good deal. But what on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed a third time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What luck!&rdquo; he chuckled. &ldquo;But how do you know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me. Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cartwright in Wimpole Street,&rdquo; repeated Antony thoughtfully.
+&ldquo;Yes, I can remember that. Cartwright in Wimpole Street. Did Cayley go to
+him too, by any chance?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I expect so. Oh, yes, I know he did. But what on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was Mark&rsquo;s general health like? Did he see a doctor
+much?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hardly at all, I should think. He did a lot of early morning exercises
+which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at breakfast. They
+didn&rsquo;t do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty fit. Tony, I wish
+you&rsquo;d&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One last question,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Was Mark fond of
+swimming?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, he hated it. I don&rsquo;t believe he <i>could</i> swim. Tony, are
+you mad, or am I? Or is this a new game?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear old Bill,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a game. What a game!
+And the answer is Cartwright in Wimpole Street.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to Woodham. Bill
+tried two or three times to get his friend to talk, but Antony had only grunted
+in reply. He was just going to make another attempt, when Antony came to a
+sudden stop and turned to him anxiously.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder if you&rsquo;d do something for me,&rdquo; he said, looking at
+him with some doubt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What sort of thing?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s really dashed important. It&rsquo;s just the one thing
+I want now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say, have you really found it all out?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At least, I&rsquo;m very nearly there, Bill. There&rsquo;s just this one
+thing I want now. It means your going back to Stanton. Well, we haven&rsquo;t
+come far; it won&rsquo;t take you long. Do you mind?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My dear Holmes, I am at your service.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there another inn at Stanton&mdash;fairly close to the
+station?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The &lsquo;Plough and Horses&rsquo;&mdash;just at the corner where the
+road goes up to the station&mdash;is that the one you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That would be the one. I suppose you could do with a drink,
+couldn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Rather!&rdquo; said Bill, with a grin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good. Then have one at the &lsquo;Plough and Horses.&rsquo; Have two, if
+you like, and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you. I want
+you to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Robert?&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t say Robert,&rdquo; said Antony, smiling. &ldquo;I just
+want you to find out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night. A
+stranger. If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without letting the
+landlord know that you are interested&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Leave it to me,&rdquo; broke in Bill. &ldquo;I know just what you
+want.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t assume that it was Robert&mdash;or anybody else. Let
+<i>them</i> describe the man to you. Don&rsquo;t influence them unconsciously
+by suggesting that he was short or tall, or anything of that sort. Just get
+them talking. If it&rsquo;s the landlord, you&rsquo;d better stand him a drink
+or two.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are,&rdquo; said Bill confidently. &ldquo;Where do I meet you
+again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Probably at &lsquo;The George.&rsquo; If you get there before me, you
+can order dinner for eight o&rsquo;clock. Anyhow we&rsquo;ll meet at eight, if
+not before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good.&rdquo; He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm. Then he looked
+round slowly, as if in search of something. Suddenly he saw what he wanted.
+Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off to the left, and there was a gate a
+little way up on the right-hand side of it. Antony walked to the gate, filling
+his pipe as he went. Then he lit his pipe, sat on the gate, and took his head
+in his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; he said to himself, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s begin at the
+beginning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">
+It was nearly eight o&rsquo;clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at &lsquo;The George,&rsquo; to find
+Antony, cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is dinner ready?&rdquo; were Bill&rsquo;s first words.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll just have a wash. Lord, I&rsquo;m tired.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never ought to have asked you,&rdquo; said Antony penitently.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right. I shan&rsquo;t be a moment.&rdquo; Half-way up
+the stairs he turned round and asked, &ldquo;Am I in your room?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Do you know the way?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Start carving, will you? And order lots of beer.&rdquo; He
+disappeared round the top of the staircase. Antony went slowly in.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able to spare a
+little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account of his adventures. The
+landlord of the &ldquo;Plough and Horses&rdquo; had been sticky, decidedly
+sticky&mdash;Bill had been unable at first to get anything out of him. But Bill
+had been tactful; lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and
+so on, and how there&rsquo;d been an inquest in his wife&rsquo;s family once,
+which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, &lsquo;Pretty busy, I
+suppose, just now, what?&rsquo; and then he&rsquo;d say,
+&lsquo;Middlin&rsquo;,&rsquo; and go on again about Susan&mdash;that was the
+one that had the inquest&mdash;he talked about it as if it were a
+disease&mdash;and then I&rsquo;d try again, and say, &lsquo;Slack times, I
+expect, just now, eh?&rsquo; and he&rsquo;d say &lsquo;Middlin&rsquo;&rsquo;
+again, and then it was time to offer him another drink, and I didn&rsquo;t seem
+to be getting much nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John
+Borden&mdash;he was the man who said he&rsquo;d seen Mark at the station. Well,
+he knew all about Borden, and after he&rsquo;d told me all about Borden&rsquo;s
+wife&rsquo;s family, and how one of them had been burnt to death&mdash;after
+you with the beer; thanks&mdash;well, then I said carelessly that it must be
+very hard to remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify
+him afterwards, and he agreed that it would be &lsquo;middlin&rsquo;
+hard,&rsquo; and then&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give me three guesses,&rdquo; interrupted Antony. &ldquo;You asked him
+if he remembered everybody who came to his inn?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s it. Bright, wasn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Brilliant. And what was the result?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The result was a woman.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A woman?&rdquo; said Antony eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A woman,&rdquo; said Bill impressively. &ldquo;Of course I thought it
+was going to be Robert&mdash;so did you, didn&rsquo;t you?&mdash;but it
+wasn&rsquo;t. It was a woman. Came quite late on Monday night in a
+car&mdash;driving herself&mdash;went off early next morning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he describe her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. She was middlin&rsquo;. Middlin&rsquo; tall, middlin&rsquo; age,
+middlin&rsquo; colour, and so on. Doesn&rsquo;t help much, does it? But
+still&mdash;a woman. Does that upset your theory?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Bill, not at all,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You knew all the time? At least, you guessed?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait till to-morrow. I&rsquo;ll tell you everything to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To-morrow!&rdquo; said Bill in great disappointment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;ll tell you one thing to-night, if you&rsquo;ll promise
+not to ask any more questions. But you probably know it already.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Cayley did?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s another question, Bill. However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn&rsquo;t, either.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then who on earth&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have some more beer,&rdquo; said Antony with a smile. And Bill had to be
+content with that.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired. Bill slept
+loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering. What was happening at
+the Red House now? Perhaps he would hear in the morning; perhaps he would get a
+letter. He went over the whole story again from the beginning&mdash;was there
+any possibility of a mistake? What would the police do? Would they ever find
+out? Ought he to have told them? Well, let them find out; it was their job.
+Surely he couldn&rsquo;t have made a mistake this time. No good wondering now;
+he would know definitely in the morning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/>
+Cayley&rsquo;s Apology</h2>
+
+<p class="letter">
+&ldquo;My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which
+you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in this case
+my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why, in these
+circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your intentions I do
+not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly out of sympathy with me.
+But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you will want to know&mdash;and
+I want you to know&mdash;the exact manner in which Ablett met his death and the
+reasons which made that death necessary. If the police have to be told
+anything, I would rather that they too knew the whole story. They, and even
+you, may call it murder, but by that time I shall be out of the way. Let them
+call it what they like.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago, when
+I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five. His whole life was
+make-believe, and just now he was pretending to be a philanthropist. He sat in
+our little drawing-room, flicking his gloves against the back of his left hand,
+and my mother, good soul, thought what a noble young gentleman he was, and
+Philip and I, hastily washed and crammed into collars, stood in front of him,
+nudging each other and kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our
+hearts for having interrupted our game. He had decided to adopt one of us, kind
+Cousin Mark. Heaven knows why he chose me. Philip was eleven; two years longer
+to wait. Perhaps that was why.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, Mark educated me. I went to a public school and to Cambridge, and
+I became his secretary. Well, much more than his secretary as your friend
+Beverley perhaps has told you: his land agent, his financial adviser, his
+courier, his&mdash;but this most of all&mdash;his audience. Mark could never
+live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him. I think in his
+heart he hoped I should be his Boswell. He told me one day that he had made me
+his literary executor&mdash;poor devil. And he used to write me the absurdest
+long letters when I was away from him, letters which I read once and then tore
+up. The futility of the man!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been hurried
+through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and discovered there
+that there was not much fun to be got in this world on two pounds a week. I had
+a frantic letter from him one day, saying that he must have a hundred at once,
+or he would be ruined, and I went to Mark for the money. Only to borrow it, you
+understand; he gave me a good salary and I could have paid it back in three
+months. But no. He saw nothing for himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no
+admiration. Philip&rsquo;s gratitude would be to me, not to him. I begged, I
+threatened, we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It
+killed my mother&mdash;he was always her favourite&mdash;but Mark, as usual,
+got his satisfaction out of it. He preened himself on his judgment of character
+in having chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said to him,
+and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his accustomed skill,
+but, though outwardly we were as before to each other, from that day forward,
+though his vanity would never let him see it, I was his bitterest enemy. If
+that had been all, I wonder if I should have killed him? To live on terms of
+intimate friendship with a man whom you hate is dangerous work for your friend.
+Because of his belief in me as his admiring and grateful protégé and his belief
+in himself as my benefactor, he was now utterly in my power. I could take my
+time and choose my opportunity. Perhaps I should not have killed him, but I had
+sworn to have my revenge&mdash;and there he was, poor vain fool, at my mercy. I
+was in no hurry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge was
+being taken out of my hands. Mark began to drink. Could I have stopped him? I
+don&rsquo;t think so, but to my immense surprise I found myself trying to.
+Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason; or did I reason it out and
+tell myself that, if he drank himself to death, I should lose my revenge? Upon
+my word, I cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive, I did genuinely want to
+stop it. Drinking is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret. Yes, I kept him outwardly decent; and
+perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim in good
+condition for his own ends. I used to gloat over Mark, thinking how utterly he
+was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially, morally, whatever way would give me
+most satisfaction. I had but to take my hand away from him and he sank. But
+again I was in no hurry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up with his
+own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the truest and purest
+woman on this earth. You have seen her, Mr. Gillingham, but you never knew Mark
+Ablett. Even if he had not been a drunkard, there was no chance for her of
+happiness with him. I had known him for many years, but never once had I seen
+him moved by any generous emotion. To have lived with that shrivelled little
+soul would have been hell for her; and a thousand times worse hell when he
+began to drink.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her, for her
+mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin. I would have shot him
+openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but I had no mind to sacrifice
+myself needlessly. He was in my power; I could persuade him to almost anything
+by flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give his death the appearance
+of an accident.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I made and
+rejected. For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate boating accident in
+the pond&mdash;Mark, a very indifferent swimmer, myself almost exhausted in a
+gallant attempt to hold him up. And then he himself gave me the idea, he and
+Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in my hands; without risk of
+discovery, I should have said, had you not discovered me.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain, pompous and
+absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was irritated by it. After
+dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost and frightening him. I thought it
+my duty to warn her that Mark took any joke against himself badly, but she was
+determined to do it. I gave way reluctantly. Reluctantly, also, I told her the
+secret of the passage. (There is an underground passage from the library to the
+bowling-green. You should exercise your ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to
+discover it. Mark came upon it by accident a year ago. It was a godsend to him;
+he could drink there in greater secrecy. But he had to tell me about it. He
+wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that Mark
+should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could never have got
+close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly, but as I arranged it
+with her she made the most effective appearance, and Mark was in just the state
+of rage and vindictiveness which I required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a
+professional actress. I need not say that to her I appeared to be animated by
+no other feeling than a boyish desire to bring off a good joke&mdash;a joke
+directed as much against the others as against Mark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was to make
+a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he not a reputation
+as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next morning. As it was, she could
+stay; hospitality demanded it; but never again would she come to the Red
+House&mdash;he was absolutely determined about that. I was to make a special
+note of it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved
+very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he
+disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again&mdash;that was
+obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me indignantly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there a joke?&rdquo; he said coldly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I laughed gently again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;I was just thinking,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;that it would be
+rather amusing if you&mdash;well, had your revenge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;My revenge? How do you mean?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Well, paid her back in her own coin.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Do you mean try and frighten her?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a
+fool in front of the others.&rsquo; I laughed to myself again. &lsquo;Serve her
+jolly well right.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He jumped up excitedly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;By Jove, Cay!&rsquo; he cried. &lsquo;If I could! How? You must
+think of a way.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know if Beverley has told you about Mark&rsquo;s acting.
+He was an amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an
+actor he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for
+the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an
+admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have been
+hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all that the
+local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving us a private
+performance, directed against a professional actress who had made fun of him,
+appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for retaliation. If he, Mark
+Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth Norris look a fool in front of
+the others, could take her in, and then join in the laugh at her afterwards, he
+would indeed have had a worthy revenge!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
+Ablett.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;How, Cay, how?&rsquo; he said eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Well, I haven&rsquo;t really thought it out,&rsquo; I protested.
+&lsquo;It was just an idea.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He began to think it out for himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her&mdash;but I
+suppose she knows them all. What about an interviewer?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;It&rsquo;s going to be difficult,&rsquo; I said thoughtfully.
+&lsquo;You&rsquo;ve got rather a characteristic face, you know. And your
+beard&mdash;&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;I&rsquo;d shave it off,&rsquo; he snapped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;My dear Mark!&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He looked away, and mumbled, &lsquo;I&rsquo;ve been thinking of taking
+it off, anyhow. And besides, if I&rsquo;m going to do the thing, I&rsquo;m
+going to do it properly.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Yes, you always were an artist,&rsquo; I said, looking at him
+admiringly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
+knew that I had him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;All the same,&rsquo; I went on, &lsquo;even without your beard
+and moustache you might be recognizable. Unless, of course&mdash;&rsquo; I
+broke off.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Unless what?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;You pretend to be Robert.&rsquo; I began to laugh to myself
+again. &lsquo;By Jove!&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;that&rsquo;s not a bad idea.
+Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel brother, and make yourself objectionable to
+Miss Norris. Borrow money from her, and that sort of thing.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Robert,&rsquo; he said. &lsquo;Yes. How shall we work it?&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you and
+the Inspector both discovered. And he was a wastrel and he went to Australia.
+But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday afternoon. He couldn&rsquo;t
+have, because he died (unlamented) three years ago. But there was nobody who
+knew this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only one of the family left,
+his sister having died last year. Though I doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether
+Robert was alive or dead. He was not talked about.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans. You understand by
+now that our aims were not identical. Mark&rsquo;s endeavour was that his
+deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine that it should go to
+the grave with him. He had only to deceive Miss Norris and the other guests; I
+had to deceive the world. When he was dressed up as Robert, I was going to kill
+him. Robert would then be dead, Mark (of course) missing. What could anybody
+think but that Mark had killed Robert? But you see how important it was for
+Mark to enter fully into his latest (and last) impersonation. Half-measures
+would be fatal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will say that it was impossible to do the thing thoroughly enough. I
+answer again that you never knew Mark. He was being what he wished most to
+be&mdash;an artist. No Othello ever blacked himself all over with such
+enthusiasm as did Mark. His beard was going anyhow&mdash;possible a chance
+remark of Miss Norbury&rsquo;s helped here. She did not like beards. But it was
+important for me that the dead man&rsquo;s hands should not be the hands of a
+manicured gentleman. Five minutes playing upon the vanity of the artist settled
+his hands. He let the nails grow and then cut them raggedly. &lsquo;Miss Norris
+would notice your hands at once,&rsquo; I had said. &lsquo;Besides, as an
+artist&mdash;&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So with his underclothes. It was hardly necessary to warn him that his
+pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he had already
+decided upon Robertian pants. I bought them, and other things, in London for
+him. Even if I had not cut out all trace of the maker&rsquo;s name, he would
+instinctively have done it. As an Australian and an artist, he could not have
+an East London address on his underclothes. Yes, we were doing the thing
+thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I as a&mdash;well, you may say
+murderer, if you like. I shall not mind now.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Our plans were settled. I went to London on the Monday and wrote him a
+letter from Robert. (The artistic touch again.) I also bought a revolver. On
+the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival of Robert at the breakfast-table.
+Robert was now alive&mdash;we had six witnesses to prove it; six witnesses who
+knew that he was coming that afternoon. Our private plan was that Robert should
+present himself at three o&rsquo;clock, in readiness for the return of the
+golfing-party shortly afterwards. The maid would go to look for Mark, and
+having failed to find him, come back to the office to find me entertaining
+Robert in Mark&rsquo;s absence. I would explain that Mark must have gone out
+somewhere, and would myself introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table.
+Mark&rsquo;s absence would not excite any comment, for it would be generally
+felt&mdash;indeed Robert would suggest it&mdash;that he had been afraid of
+meeting his brother. Then Robert would make himself amusingly offensive to the
+guests, particularly, of course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke
+had gone far enough.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That was our private plan. Perhaps I should say that it was Mark&rsquo;s
+private plan. My own was different.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The announcement at breakfast went well. After the golfing-party had
+gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our arrangements. What I was
+chiefly concerned about was to establish as completely as possible the identity
+of Robert. For this reason I suggested to Mark that, when dressed, he should go
+out by the secret passage to the bowling-green, and come back by the drive,
+taking care to enter into conversation with the lodge-keeper. In this way I
+would have two more witnesses of Robert&rsquo;s arrival&mdash;first the
+lodge-keeper, and secondly one of the gardeners whom I would have working on
+the front lawn. Mark, of course, was willing enough. He could practise his
+Australian accent on the lodge-keeper. It was really amusing to see how readily
+he fell into every suggestion which I made. Never was a killing more carefully
+planned by its victim.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He changed into Robert&rsquo;s clothes in the office bedroom. This was
+the safest way&mdash;for both of us. When he was ready, he called me in, and I
+inspected him. It was extraordinary how well he looked the part. I suppose that
+the signs of his dissipation had already marked themselves on his face, but had
+been concealed hitherto by his moustache and beard; for now that he was
+clean-shaven they lay open to the world from which we had so carefully hidden
+them, and he was indeed the wastrel which he was pretending to be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;By Jove, you&rsquo;re wonderful,&rsquo; I said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Wonderful,&rsquo; I said to myself again. &lsquo;Nobody could
+possibly guess.&rsquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I peered into the hall. It was empty. We hurried across to the library;
+he got into the passage and made off. I went back to the bedroom, collected all
+his discarded clothes, did them up in a bundle and returned with them to the
+passage. Then I sat down in the hall and waited.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid. As soon as she was on her
+way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the office. My hand was in
+my side-pocket, and in my hand was the revolver.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He began at once in his character of Robert&mdash;some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private performance for my
+edification. Then in his natural voice, gloating over his well-planned
+retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, &lsquo;It&rsquo;s my turn now. You
+wait.&rsquo; It was this which Elsie heard. She had no business to be there and
+she might have ruined everything, but as it turned out it was the luckiest
+thing which could have happened. For it was the one piece of evidence which I
+wanted; evidence, other than my own, that Mark and Robert were in the room
+together.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said nothing. I was not going to take the risk of being heard to speak
+in that room. I just smiled at the poor little fool, and took out my revolver,
+and shot him. Then I went back into the library and waited&mdash;just as I said
+in my evidence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden appearance
+gave me? Can you imagine the feelings of a &lsquo;murderer&rsquo; who has (as
+he thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then confronted suddenly with
+an utterly new problem? What difference would your coming make? I didn&rsquo;t
+know. Perhaps none; perhaps all. And I had forgotten to open the window!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a
+clever one. Perhaps not. But if I do deserve any praise in the matter, I think
+I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together in the face of the unexpected
+catastrophe of your arrival. Yes, I got a window open, Mr. Gillingham, under
+your very nose; the right window too, you were kind enough to say. And the
+keys&mdash;yes, that was clever of you, but I think I was cleverer. I deceived
+you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I learnt when I took the liberty of
+listening to a conversation on the bowling-green between you and your friend
+Beverley. Where was I? Ah, you must have a look for that secret passage, Mr.
+Gillingham.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what am I saying? Did I deceive you at all? You have found out the
+secret&mdash;that Robert was Mark&mdash;and that is all that matters. How have
+you found out? I shall never know now. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps you have
+been deceiving me all the time. Perhaps you knew about the keys, about the
+window, even about the secret passage. You are a clever man, Mr. Gillingham.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had Mark&rsquo;s clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris knew it. That
+was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss Norris had to know it. So I
+hid them in the pond, the Inspector having obligingly dragged it for me first.
+A couple of keys joined them, but I kept the revolver. Fortunate, wasn&rsquo;t
+it, Mr. Gillingham?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that there is any more to tell you. This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There was a time when I
+hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not at the Red House, not
+alone. Perhaps it was never more than an idle day-dream, for I am no more
+worthy of her than Mark was. But I could have made her happy, Mr. Gillingham.
+God, how I would have worked to make her happy! But now that is impossible. To
+offer her the hand of a murderer would be as bad as to offer her the hand of a
+drunkard. And Mark died for that. I saw her this morning. She was very sweet.
+It is a difficult world to understand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, well, we are all gone now&mdash;the Abletts and the Cayleys. I
+wonder what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all. Perhaps it is as well that
+we have died out. Not that there was anything wrong with Sarah&mdash;except her
+temper. And she had the Ablett nose&mdash;you can&rsquo;t do much with that.
+I&rsquo;m glad she left no children.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham. I&rsquo;m sorry that your stay with us was not
+of a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in which I was
+placed. Don&rsquo;t let Bill think too badly of me. He is a good fellow; look
+after him. He will be surprised. The young are always surprised. And thank you
+for letting me end my own way. I expect you did sympathize a little, you know.
+We might have been friends in another world&mdash;you and I, and I and she.
+Tell her what you like. Everything or nothing. You will know what is best.
+Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+&ldquo;M<small>ATTHEW</small> C<small>AYLEY</small>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am lonely to-night without Mark. That&rsquo;s funny, isn&rsquo;t
+it?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/>
+Mr. Beverley Moves On</h2>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thought you&rsquo;d say that,&rdquo; murmured Antony.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guessed some of it. I didn&rsquo;t quite know all of it, of
+course.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a
+moment he was looking up again. &ldquo;What did you write to him? Was that last
+night? After I&rsquo;d gone into Stanton?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What did you say? That you&rsquo;d discovered that Mark was
+Robert?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph to
+Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence. &ldquo;Yes, now what was all
+that about? You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a sudden. We&rsquo;d
+been doing the thing together all the time, and you&rsquo;d been telling me
+everything, and then suddenly you become very mysterious and private and talk
+enigmatically&mdash;is that the word?&mdash;about dentists and swimming and the
+&lsquo;Plough and Horses,&rsquo; and&mdash;well, what was it all about? You
+simply vanished out of sight; I didn&rsquo;t know what on earth we were talking
+about.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry, Bill. I felt like that suddenly. Just for the last half-hour;
+just to end up with. I&rsquo;ll tell you everything now. Not that there&rsquo;s
+anything to tell, really. It seems so easy when you know it&mdash;so obvious.
+About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street. Of course he was just to identify the
+body.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who could do it better? Could <i>you</i> have done it? How could you?
+You&rsquo;d never gone bathing with Mark; you&rsquo;d never seen him stripped.
+He didn&rsquo;t swim. Could his doctor do it? Not unless he&rsquo;d had some
+particular operation, and perhaps not then. But his dentist could&mdash;at any
+time, always&mdash;if he had been to his dentist fairly often. Hence Mr.
+Cartwright of Wimpole Street.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I see. And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright to
+identify the body?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. And then of course it was all up for him. Once we knew that Robert
+was Mark we knew everything.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How <i>did</i> you know?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not sure that I can say, Bill. You know those problems in
+Algebra where you say, &lsquo;Let <i>x</i> be the answer,&rsquo; and then you
+work it out and find what <i>x</i> is. Well, that&rsquo;s one way; and another
+way, which they never give you any marks for at school, is to guess the answer.
+Pretend the answer is 4&mdash;well, will that satisfy the conditions of the
+problem? No. Then try 6; and if 6 doesn&rsquo;t either, then what about
+5?&mdash;and so on. Well, the Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had
+guessed their answer, and it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn&rsquo;t
+really fit; there were several conditions in the problem which it didn&rsquo;t
+fit at all. So we knew that their answer was wrong, and we had to think of
+another&mdash;an answer which explained all the things which were puzzling us.
+Well, I happened to guess the right one. Got a match?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but that doesn&rsquo;t quite do, old boy. Something must have put
+you on to it suddenly. By the way, I&rsquo;ll have my matches back, if you
+don&rsquo;t mind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sorry.... Well then, let&rsquo;s see if I can go through my own mind
+again, and tell you how I guessed it. First of all, the clothes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I
+didn&rsquo;t quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley&rsquo;s
+position the smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For
+some reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the clothes
+which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the inside
+ones as well as the outside ones. I didn&rsquo;t know why, but I did feel
+certain that, in that case, the absence of the collar was unintentional. In
+collecting the clothes he had overlooked the collar. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was the one in the linen-basket?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. It seemed probable. Why had Cayley put it there? The obvious answer
+was that he hadn&rsquo;t. Mark had put it there. I remembered what you told me
+about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and so on, and I felt that
+he was just the sort of man who would never wear the same collar twice.&rdquo;
+He paused, and then asked, &ldquo;Is that right, do you think?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Absolutely,&rdquo; said Bill with conviction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I guessed it was. So then I began to see an x which would fit just
+this part of the problem&mdash;the clothes part. I saw Mark changing his
+clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar in the linen-basket, just
+as he had always dropped every collar he had ever taken off, but leaving the
+rest of the clothes on a chair in the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting
+all the clothes afterwards&mdash;all the visible clothes&mdash;and not
+realizing that the collar wasn&rsquo;t there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation of it.
+Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom? The only answer was
+that the fact of his changing had to be kept secret. When did he change? The
+only possible time was between lunch (when he would be seen by the servants)
+and the moment of Robert&rsquo;s arrival. And when did Cayley collect the
+clothes in a bundle? Again, the only answer was &lsquo;Before Robert&rsquo;s
+arrival.&rsquo; So another x was wanted&mdash;to fit those three
+conditions.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Well now, it couldn&rsquo;t be intended on the strength of that
+letter, unless there was very much more behind the letter than we knew. Nor was
+it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation than the
+changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing was too childish.
+Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the way to announce his
+existence to you all&mdash;even, at the cost of some trouble, to Mrs. Norbury?
+What did it all mean? I didn&rsquo;t know. But I began to feel now that Robert
+was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of Cayley&rsquo;s against
+Mark&mdash;either to get him to kill his brother, or to get his brother to kill
+him&mdash;and that for some inexplicable reason Mark seemed to be lending
+himself to the plot.&rdquo; He was silent for a little, and then said, almost
+to himself, &ldquo;I had seen the empty brandy bottles in that cupboard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You never said anything about them,&rdquo; complained Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you remember.
+They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel about it.... Poor
+devil!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; said Bill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
+you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the second lodge
+and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons. That made it more
+curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his way to speak to him; had
+called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that his wife was out in their little
+garden at the first lodge all the afternoon, and was certain that Robert had
+never come past it. He also told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the
+front lawn that afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
+passage&mdash;the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job between
+Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark knowing?
+Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When was this?&rdquo; interrupted Bill. &ldquo;Just after the
+inquest&mdash;after you&rsquo;d seen Amos and Parsons, of course?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I&rsquo;d got
+back to the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly?
+Disguise? But then what about his face? That was much more important than
+clothes. His face, his beard&mdash;he&rsquo;d have to shave off his
+beard&mdash;and then&mdash;oh, idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark
+acting, Mark made-up, Mark disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert....
+Matches, please.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his pipe, and
+then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into the other&rsquo;s
+pocket.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Bill thoughtfully. &ldquo;Yes.... But wait a moment.
+What about the &lsquo;Plough and Horses&rsquo;?&rdquo; Antony looked comically
+at him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never forgive me, Bill,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll
+never come clue-hunting with me again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony sighed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
+alone. I&rsquo;d guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it&mdash;to test it
+every way, by everything we&rsquo;d discovered. I simply <i>had</i> to be alone
+just then. So&mdash;&rdquo; he smiled and added, &ldquo;Well, I knew you wanted
+a drink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You <i>are</i> a devil,&rdquo; said Bill, staring at him. &ldquo;And
+your interest when I told you that a woman had been staying there&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it was only polite to be interested when you&rsquo;d taken so much
+trouble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You brute! You&mdash;you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
+matches. Well, go on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all. My <i>x</i> fitted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, not quite. I didn&rsquo;t realize that Cayley had worked for it
+from the beginning&mdash;had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
+he&rsquo;d just seized the opportunity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said slowly,
+&ldquo;Has Cayley shot himself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Poor devil,&rdquo; said Bill. &ldquo;It was decent of you to give him a
+chance. I&rsquo;m glad you did.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a clever devil. If you hadn&rsquo;t turned up just when you
+did, he would never have been found out.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I wonder. It was ingenious, but it&rsquo;s often the ingenious thing
+which gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley&rsquo;s point of view was
+that, though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
+Well, that doesn&rsquo;t often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
+discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not&mdash;but an
+amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of <i>how</i> he killed Mark,
+but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he <i>had</i>
+killed him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, there&rsquo;s something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why
+did Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just
+doing the Othello business&mdash;painting himself black all over. I mean he may
+have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to believe
+in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he felt that, having
+told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss Norbury, in case she met
+one of you; in which case, if you mentioned the approaching arrival of Robert,
+she might say, &lsquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m certain he has no brother; he would have
+told me if he had,&rsquo; and so spoil his joke. Possibly, too, Cayley put him
+on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many people as possible to know about
+Robert.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you going to tell the police?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I suppose they&rsquo;ll have to know. Cayley may have left another
+confession. I hope he won&rsquo;t give me away; you see, I&rsquo;ve been a sort
+of accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss
+Norbury.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked,&rdquo; explained Bill, &ldquo;because I was wondering what I
+should say to&mdash;to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she&rsquo;s bound to
+ask.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Perhaps you won&rsquo;t see her again for a long, long time,&rdquo; said
+Antony sadly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you had better tell her. You&rsquo;re obviously longing to. Only
+don&rsquo;t let her say anything for a day or two. I&rsquo;ll write to
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Righto!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Barringtons,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Large party?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fairly, I think.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes. Well, if any of &rsquo;em <i>should</i> happen to be murdered, you
+might send for me. I&rsquo;m just getting into the swing of it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 1872-h.htm or 1872-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1872/
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will
+be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
+law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
+so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
+States without permission and without paying copyright
+royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
+of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
+and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive
+specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this
+eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook
+for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports,
+performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given
+away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks
+not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the
+trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.
+
+START: FULL LICENSE
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
+Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
+www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+
+1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
+destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your
+possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
+Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
+by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
+person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph
+1.E.8.
+
+1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this
+agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the
+Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
+of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual
+works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
+States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
+United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
+claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
+displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
+all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
+that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting
+free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm
+works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
+Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily
+comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
+same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when
+you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
+in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
+check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
+agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
+distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
+other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no
+representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
+country outside the United States.
+
+1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work
+on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+  This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+  most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
+  restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+  under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+  eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
+  United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you
+  are located before using this ebook.
+
+1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is
+derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
+contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
+copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
+the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
+redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
+either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
+obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
+additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
+beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
+any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
+to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format
+other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official
+version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site
+(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
+to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
+of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
+Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the
+full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+provided that
+
+* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+  the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+  you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+  to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has
+  agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+  within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+  legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+  payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+  Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+  Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+  Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+  does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+  License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+  copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+  all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm
+  works.
+
+* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+  any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+  electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+  receipt of the work.
+
+* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+  distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The
+Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
+Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
+contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
+or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
+other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
+cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
+with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
+with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
+lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
+or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
+opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
+the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
+without further opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO
+OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
+damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
+violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
+agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
+limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
+unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
+remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in
+accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
+production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
+including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
+the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
+or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or
+additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any
+Defect you cause.
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
+computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
+exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
+from people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future
+generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
+Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
+www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
+U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the
+mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its
+volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous
+locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt
+Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to
+date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
+official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+For additional contact information:
+
+    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+    Chief Executive and Director
+    gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular
+state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
+donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be
+freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
+distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of
+volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
+the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
+necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
+edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
+facility: www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+
+</html>
+
+
diff --git a/1872-h/images/cover.jpg b/1872-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..293143c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/1872.txt b/1872.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3045203
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8680 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Posting Date: November 6, 2008 [EBook #1872]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+Last Updated: Septemeber 23, 2015
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY
+
+By A. A. Milne
+
+
+
+   TO
+   JOHN VINE MILNE
+   MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+   Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective
+   stories, and feel that there are not enough of them.  So, after
+   all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you
+   is to write you one.   Here it is: with more gratitude and
+   affection than I can well put down here.
+
+   A.A.M.
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+I. MRS. STEVENS IS FRIGHTENED
+
+II. MR. GILLINGHAM GETS OUT AT THE WRONG STATION
+
+III. TWO MEN AND A BODY
+
+IV. THE BROTHER FROM AUSTRALIA
+
+V. MR. GILLINGHAM CHOOSES A NEW PROFESSION
+
+VI. OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?
+
+VII. PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+VIII. "DO YOU FOLLOW ME, WATSON?"
+
+IX. POSSIBILITIES OF A CROQUET SET
+
+X. MR. GILLINGHAM TALKS NONSENSE
+
+XI. THE REVEREND THEODORE USSHER
+
+XII. A SHADOW ON THE WALL
+
+XIII. THE OPEN WINDOW
+
+XIV. MR. BEVERLEY QUALIFIES FOR THE STAGE
+
+XV. MRS. NORBURY CONFIDES IN DEAR MR. GILLINGHAM
+
+XVI. GETTING READY FOR THE NIGHT
+
+XVII. MR. BEVERLEY TAKES THE WATER
+
+XVIII. GUESS-WORK
+
+XIX. THE INQUEST
+
+XX. MR. BEVERLEY IS TACTFUL
+
+XXI. CAYLEY'S APOLOGY
+
+XXII. MR. BEVERLEY MOVES ON
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+
+
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its
+siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came
+the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds;
+making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.
+
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to
+the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the
+housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed
+her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr.
+Mark Ablett's bachelor home.
+
+"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey
+nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it,
+and said, "He likes a bit of pink."
+
+"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt. "Joe Turner
+isn't the only one."
+
+"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out at arm's
+length, and regarding it thoughtfully. "Stylish, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your
+age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other
+people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn't.
+If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five--that's what I say."
+
+"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"
+
+"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with great
+dignity.
+
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails
+critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+
+"Funny thing that about Mr. Mark's brother. Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years." She gave a self-conscious laugh and went on,
+"Wonder what I should do if I didn't see Joe for fifteen years."
+
+"As I told you all this morning," said her aunt, "I've been here five
+years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before everybody
+if I was going to die to-morrow. There's been no brother here while I've
+been here."
+
+"You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him
+at breakfast this morning. I didn't hear what went before, naturally,
+but they was all talking about the brother when I went in--now what
+was it I went in for--hot milk, was it, or toast?--well, they was
+all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says--you know his
+way--'Stevens,' he says, 'my brother is coming to see me this afternoon;
+I'm expecting him about three,' he says. 'Show him into the office,' he
+says, just like that. 'Yes, sir,' I says quite quietly, but I was never
+so surprised in my life, not knowing he had a brother. 'My brother from
+Australia,' he says--there, I'd forgotten that. From Australia."
+
+"Well, he may have been in Australia," said Mrs. Stevens, judicially; "I
+can't say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say is he's
+never been here. Not while I've been here, and that's five years."
+
+"Well, but, auntie, he hasn't been here for fifteen years. I heard Mr.
+Mark telling Mr. Cayley. 'Fifteen years,' he says. Mr. Cayley having
+arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him,
+I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn't know when he was last in
+England--see? So that's why he arst Mr. Mark."
+
+"I'm not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only speak
+for what I know, and that's five years Whitsuntide. I can take my oath
+he's not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if he's
+been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he's had his reasons."
+
+"What reasons?" said Audrey lightly.
+
+"Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since
+your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey--when a gentleman goes to
+Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen
+years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he
+has his reasons. And a respectably brought-up girl doesn't ask what
+reasons."
+
+"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly. "They were saying
+at breakfast he'd been a wild one. Debts. I'm glad Joe isn't like that.
+He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings' bank. Did I tell
+you?"
+
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The
+ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet--no longer Audrey, but now
+Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+
+"There, that's the front door," she said. "That's him. 'Show him into
+the office,' said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn't want the other
+ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well, they're all out at their golf,
+anyhow--Wonder if he's going to stay--P'raps he's brought back a lot of
+gold from Australia--I might hear something about Australia, because if
+anybody can get gold there, then I don't say but what Joe and I--"
+
+"Now, now, get on, Audrey."
+
+"Just going, darling." She went out.
+
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the open
+door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of which
+even the mere sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed,
+oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows,
+blue-curtained. On the right and left were doors leading into other
+living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were
+windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open windows
+to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went
+up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the
+left, led you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall,
+to your bedroom. That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr.
+Robert Ablett's intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr.
+Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the
+front windows, reading. No reason why he shouldn't be there; certainly
+a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow there
+was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as if all the guests
+were outside, or--perhaps the wisest place of all--up in their bedrooms,
+sleeping. Mr. Cayley, the master's cousin, was a surprise; and, having
+given a little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed,
+and said, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn't see you at first," and
+he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive smile it was
+on that big ugly face. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley," she thought to
+herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would do without
+him. If this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia,
+it was Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+
+"So this is Mr. Robert," said Audrey to herself, as she came in sight of
+the visitor.
+
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for
+Mr. Mark's brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually
+she was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and
+his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always
+moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register
+one more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more
+expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was
+a very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial,
+staring at her so loweringly.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett," he growled. It sounded almost like a
+threat.
+
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a smile
+for everybody.
+
+"Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way."
+
+"Oh! So you know who I am, eh?"
+
+"Mr. Robert Ablett?"
+
+"Ay, that's right. So he's expecting me, eh? He'll be glad to see me,
+eh?"
+
+"If you will come this way, sir," said Audrey primly.
+
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+
+"Mr. Robert Ab--" she began, and then broke off. The room was empty. She
+turned to the man behind her. "If you will sit down, sir, I will find
+the master. I know he's in, because he told me that you were coming this
+afternoon."
+
+"Oh!" He looked round the room. "What d'you call this place, eh?"
+
+"The office, sir."
+
+"The office?"
+
+"The room where the master works, sir."
+
+"Works, eh? That's new. Didn't know he'd ever done a stroke of work in
+his life."
+
+"Where he writes, sir," said Audrey, with dignity. The fact that Mr.
+Mark "wrote," though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the
+housekeeper's room.
+
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?"
+
+"I will tell the master you are here, sir," said Audrey decisively.
+
+She closed the door and left him there.
+
+Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once,
+going over all the things which he had said to her and she had said to
+him--quiet-like. "Directly I saw him I said to myself--" Why, you could
+have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual
+menace to Audrey.
+
+However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked
+across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little
+uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+
+"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can you tell
+me where the master is? It's Mr. Robert called."
+
+"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book. "Who?"
+
+Audrey repeated her question.
+
+"I don't know. Isn't he in the office? He went up to the Temple after
+lunch. I don't think I've seen him since."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple."
+
+Cayley returned to his book.
+
+The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back of
+the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated sometimes
+before retiring to the "office" to put his thoughts upon paper. The
+thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were given off at
+the dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and got on to
+paper more often than they got into print. But that did not prevent
+the master of The Red House from being a little pained when a visitor
+treated the Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the
+ordinary purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an
+occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in it. Mark
+had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little less than his
+usual point--whether they couldn't find anywhere else for their game,
+but the offenders were never asked to The Red House again.
+
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly back.
+All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his room.
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room." Well, now, Auntie, would
+you like anyone in your drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his
+neck and great big dusty boots, and--listen! One of the men shooting
+rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot
+it was; she wouldn't say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr. Robert
+wasn't staying the night; he hadn't any luggage. Of course Mr. Mark
+could lend him things; he had clothes enough for six. She would have
+known him anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother.
+
+She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper's room on her
+way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face
+looked out.
+
+"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie. "It's Audrey," she said, turning into the
+room.
+
+"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?"
+
+"Up to the Temple."
+
+"Did you hear anything?"
+
+"Hear what?"
+
+"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
+
+"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved. "One of the men shooting rabbits.
+Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's partial to a nice
+rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised if--"
+
+"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully. "It was inside the house, my girl."
+
+"Straight it was," said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids. "I said to
+Mrs. Stevens--didn't I, Mrs. Stevens?--'That was in the house,' I said."
+
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+
+"Do you think he had a revolver with him?" she said in a hushed voice.
+
+"Who?" said Elsie excitedly.
+
+"That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on
+him, 'You're a bad lot, my man!' That's what I said, Elsie. Even before
+he spoke to me. Rude!" She turned to her aunt. "Well, I give you my
+word."
+
+"If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone
+from Australia." Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather
+rapidly. "I wouldn't go out of this room now, not if you paid me a
+hundred thousand pounds."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Stevens!" said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for a
+new pair of shoes, "I wouldn't go as far as that, not myself, but--"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older
+woman's chair.
+
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+
+They heard a man's voice, loud, angry.
+
+"Open the door!" it was shouting. "Open the door! I say, open the door!"
+
+"Don't open the door!" cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was her
+door which was threatened. "Audrey! Elsie! Don't let him in!"
+
+"Damn it, open the door!" came the voice again.
+
+"We're all going to be murdered in our beds," she quavered. Terrified,
+the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens
+sat there, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+
+
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view, but
+it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the subject of
+his early life. However, stories get about. There is always somebody
+who knows. It was understood--and this, anyhow, on Mark's own
+authority--that his father had been a country clergyman. It was said
+that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some
+rich old spinster of the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education,
+both at school and university. At about the time when he was coming down
+from Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few debts,
+as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons, as an
+example to his successor. Neither warning nor example seems to have been
+effective. Mark went to London, with an allowance from his patron, and
+(it is generally agreed) made acquaintance with the money-lenders.
+He was supposed, by his patron and any others who inquired, to be
+"writing"; but what he wrote, other than letters asking for more time
+to pay, has never been discovered. However, he attended the theatres
+and music halls very regularly--no doubt with a view to some serious
+articles in the "Spectator" on the decadence of the English stage.
+
+Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died during his third
+year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. From that moment
+his life loses its legendary character, and becomes more a matter of
+history. He settled accounts with the money-lenders, abandoned his
+crop of wild oats to the harvesting of others, and became in his turn a
+patron. He patronized the Arts. It was not only usurers who discovered
+that Mark Ablett no longer wrote for money; editors were now offered
+free contributions as well as free lunches; publishers were given
+agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the author paid
+all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young painters and
+poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour,
+playing host and "lead" with equal lavishness.
+
+He was not what most people call a snob. A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a mean
+lover of mean things--which would be a little unkind to the peerage if
+the first definition were true. Mark had his vanities undoubtedly, but
+he would sooner have met an actor-manager than an earl; he would have
+spoken of his friendship with Dante--had that been possible--more glibly
+than of his friendship with the Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but
+not the worst kind of snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not
+Society; a climber, but in the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts. It also included Matthew Cayley,
+a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as limited as had
+been Mark's own before his patron had rescued him. He sent the Cayley
+cousin to school and Cambridge. His motives, no doubt, were unworldly
+enough at first; a mere repaying to his account in the Recording Angel's
+book of the generosity which had been lavished on himself; a laying-up
+of treasure in heaven. But it is probable that, as the boy grew up,
+Mark's designs for his future were based on his own interests as much
+as those of his cousin, and that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of
+twenty-three was felt by him to be a useful property for a man in his
+position; a man, that is to say, whose vanities left him so little time
+for his affairs.
+
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin's affairs. By
+this time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable amount of
+land which went with it. Cayley superintended the necessary staff.
+His duties, indeed, were many. He was not quite secretary, not quite
+land-agent, not quite business-adviser, not quite companion, but
+something of all four. Mark leant upon him and called him "Cay,"
+objecting quite rightly in the circumstances to the name of Matthew.
+Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable; a big, heavy-jawed, solid
+fellow, who didn't bother you with unnecessary talk--a boon to a man who
+liked to do most of the talking himself.
+
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which
+was his patron's age. Spasmodically they entertained a good deal at the
+Red House, and Mark's preference--call it kindliness or vanity, as
+you please--was for guests who were not in a position to repay his
+hospitality. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that
+breakfast, of which Stevens, the parlour-maid, has already given us a
+glimpse.
+
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel
+trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural history
+articles for the papers. He inspected the dishes on the side-table,
+decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it. He had passed on
+to a sausage by the time of the next arrival. This was Bill Beverly, a
+cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+
+"Hallo, Major," he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
+
+"It isn't gout," said the Major gruffly.
+
+"Well, whatever it is."
+
+The Major grunted.
+
+"I make a point of being polite at breakfast," said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge. "Most people are so rude. That's why I
+asked you. But don't tell me if it's a secret. Coffee?" he added, as he
+poured himself out a cup.
+
+"No, thanks. I never drink till I've finished eating."
+
+"Quite right, Major; it's only manners." He sat down opposite to the
+other. "Well, we've got a good day for our game. It's going to be dashed
+hot, but that's where Betty and I score. On the fifth green, your old
+wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in '43, will begin to
+trouble you; on the eighth, your liver, undermined by years of curry,
+will drop to pieces; on the twelfth--"
+
+"Oh, shut up, you ass!"
+
+"Well, I'm only warning you. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. I was
+just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him this
+morning. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own
+breakfast?"
+
+"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris. "I'll help myself. Good
+morning, Major." She smiled pleasantly at him. The Major nodded.
+
+"Good morning. Going to be hot."
+
+"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where--Hallo, here's Betty.
+Morning, Cayley."
+
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the painter,
+who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris took
+herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as a
+golfer. She was quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society nor
+Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+
+"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley, looking up
+from his letters. "You're lunching there, and driving back directly
+afterwards. Isn't that right?"
+
+"I don't see why we shouldn't have--two rounds," said Bill hopefully.
+
+"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major. "Get back comfortably
+for tea."
+
+Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and sat down to
+toast and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The others chattered gently
+while he read his letters.
+
+"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
+
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. "I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty."
+
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it herself,
+particularly at rehearsals.
+
+"I say, Cay!" He was frowning to himself--annoyed, puzzled. He held up a
+letter and shook it. "Who do you think this is from?"
+
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders. How could
+he possibly guess?
+
+"Robert," said Mark.
+
+"Robert?" It was difficult to surprise Cayley. "Well?"
+
+"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark peevishly.
+"He's coming here this afternoon."
+
+"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
+
+"Of course. So did I." He looked across at Rumbold. "Got any brothers,
+Major?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
+
+"Not likely to now," said the Major.
+
+Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any brothers,
+Mr. Ablett?"
+
+"One," said Mark grimly. "If you're back in time you'll see him this
+afternoon. He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds. Don't."
+
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow from
+him."
+
+"Like Robert," said Mark.
+
+"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
+
+"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it? You'd have been a boy, of course."
+
+"Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn't know if he had
+been back since."
+
+"No. Not to my knowledge." Mark, still obviously upset, returned to his
+letter.
+
+"Personally," said Bill, "I think relations are a great mistake."
+
+"All the same," said Betty a little daringly, "it must be rather fun
+having a skeleton in the cupboard."
+
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+
+"If you think it's fun, I'll hand him over to you, Betty. If he's
+anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have been--well,
+Cay knows."
+
+Cayley grunted.
+
+"All I knew was that one didn't ask questions about him."
+
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to ask
+more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely in
+front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere statement of
+fact. But the subject dropped, to be succeeded by the more fascinating
+one of the coming foursome. Mrs. Calladine was driving over with the
+players in order to lunch with an old friend who lived near the links,
+and Mark and Cayley were remaining at home--on affairs. Apparently
+"affairs" were now to include a prodigal brother. But that need not make
+the foursome less enjoyable.
+
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing
+his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their
+business at the Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of Antony
+Gillingham was handing up his ticket at Woodham station and asking the
+way to the village. Having received directions, he left his bag with the
+station-master and walked off leisurely. He is an important person to
+this story, so that it is as well we should know something about him
+before letting him loose in it. Let us stop him at the top of the hill
+on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking
+than we are. Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually
+associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem
+to be absorbing every detail of our person. To strangers this look is
+almost alarming at first, until they discover that his mind is very
+often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left his eyes on guard, while
+he himself follows a train of thought in another direction. Many people
+do this, of course; when, for instance, they are talking to one person
+and trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them. Antony's
+never did.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never as a
+sailor. When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother's money,
+400 pounds a year, old Gillingham looked up from the "Stockbreeders'
+Gazette" to ask what he was going to do.
+
+"See the world," said Antony.
+
+"Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to."
+
+"Right," said Antony.
+
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper. Antony was a younger son, and,
+on the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets of certain
+other families; Champion Birket's, for instance. But, then, Champion
+Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London. His
+idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people; and to
+see them from as many angles as possible. There are all sorts in London
+if you know how to look at them. So Antony looked at them--from
+various strange corners; from the view-point of the valet, the
+newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the shop-assistant. With the
+independence of 400 pounds a year behind him, he enjoyed it immensely.
+He never stayed long in one job, and generally closed his connection
+with it by telling his employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood
+between master and servant) exactly what he thought of him. He had
+no difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and
+testimonials he offered his personality and a sporting bet. He would
+take no wages the first month, and--if he satisfied his employer--double
+wages the second. He always got his double wages.
+
+He was now thirty. He had come to Waldheim for a holiday, because
+he liked the look of the station. His ticket entitled him to travel
+further, but he had always intended to please himself in the matter.
+Waldheim attracted him, and he had a suit-case in the carriage with him
+and money in his pocket. Why not get out?
+
+The landlady of 'The George' was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+
+"And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir."
+
+"Yes, but don't give yourself any trouble about it. Cold
+anything-you've-got."
+
+"What about beef, sir?" she asked, as if she had a hundred varieties of
+meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+
+"That will do splendidly. And a pint of beer."
+
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about the
+luggage. Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+
+"It must be rather fun to keep a country inn," he said, thinking that it
+was about time he started another profession.
+
+"I don't know about fun, sir. It gives us a living, and a bit over."
+
+"You ought to take a holiday," said Antony, looking at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Funny thing your saying that," said the landlord, with a smile.
+"Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday. Offered to take my place 'n all." He laughed rumblingly.
+
+"The Red House? Not the Red House, Stanton?"
+
+"That's right, sir. Stanton's the next station to Waldheim. The Red
+House is about a mile from here--Mr. Ablett's."
+
+Antony took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed from "The Red
+House, Stanton," and signed "Bill."
+
+"Good old Bill," he murmured to himself. "He's getting on."
+
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist's shop.
+Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley on the
+other. Something about Bill, his youth and freshness, perhaps, attracted
+Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered, and an address given to
+which they were to be sent, he remembered that he had come across an
+aunt of Beverley's once at a country-house. Beverley and he met again
+a little later at a restaurant. Both of them were in evening-dress, but
+they did different things with their napkins, and Antony was the more
+polite of the two. However, he still liked Bill. So on one of his
+holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an introduction through a
+mutual friend. Beverley was a little inclined to be shocked when he was
+reminded of their previous meetings, but his uncomfortable feeling soon
+wore off, and he and Antony quickly became intimate. But Bill generally
+addressed him as "Dear Madman" when he happened to write.
+
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and call
+upon his friend. Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite the
+lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but sufficiently clean
+and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of the
+house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant lawns the
+whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds....
+
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting, "Open
+the door, I say; open the door!"
+
+"Hallo!" said Antony in amazement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
+
+
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+
+"Can I help?" said Antony politely.
+
+"Something's happened," said Cayley. He was breathing quickly. "I heard
+a shot--it sounded like a shot--I was in the library. A loud bang--I
+didn't know what it was. And the door's locked." He rattled the handle
+again, and shook it. "Open the door!" he cried. "I say, Mark, what is
+it? Open the door!"
+
+"But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony. "So why
+should he open it just because you ask him to?"
+
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door
+again. "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder to it. "Help
+me."
+
+"Isn't there a window?"
+
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+
+"Window? Window?"
+
+"So much easier to break in a window," said Antony with a smile. He
+looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall,
+leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of fuss
+was being made about nothing. But then, he had not heard the shot.
+
+"Window--of course! What an idiot I am."
+
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive. Antony
+followed him. They ran along the front of the house, down a path to the
+left, and then to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front, the
+other close behind him. Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder and
+pulled up short.
+
+"Here," he said.
+
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which
+opened on to the lawns at the back of the house. But now they were
+closed. Antony couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement as he
+followed Cayley's example, and put his face close up to the glass. For
+the first time he wondered if there really had been a revolver shot in
+this mysterious room. It had all seemed so absurd and melodramatic from
+the other side of the door. But if there had been one shot, why should
+there not be two more?--at the careless fools who were pressing their
+noses against the panes, and asking for it.
+
+"My God, can you see it?" said Cayley in a shaking voice. "Down there.
+Look!"
+
+The next moment Antony saw it. A man was lying on the floor at the far
+end of the room, his back towards them. A man? Or the body of a man?
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"I don't know," the other whispered.
+
+"Well, we'd better go and see." He considered the windows for a moment.
+"I should think, if you put your weight into it, just where they join,
+they'll give all right. Otherwise, we can kick the glass in."
+
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it. The window gave,
+and they went into the room. Cayley walked quickly to the body, and
+dropped on his knees by it. For the moment he seemed to hesitate; then
+with an effort he put a hand on to its shoulder and pulled it over.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"Robert Ablett."
+
+"Oh!" said Antony. "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more to
+himself than to the other.
+
+"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother." He shuddered, and
+said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
+
+"Was Mark in the room too?"
+
+"Yes," said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
+
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle. "I
+suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he came back to the
+body again.
+
+"Who?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor. "Is he
+dead?"
+
+"Help me," said Cayley simply.
+
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at it.
+Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not a pleasant
+sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for the man beside
+him, and a sudden remorse for the careless, easy way in which he had
+treated the affair. But then one always went about imagining that
+these things didn't happen--except to other people. It was difficult to
+believe in them just at first, when they happened to yourself.
+
+"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly. He meant, "Were you fond
+of him?"
+
+"Hardly at all. Mark is my cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother I know
+best."
+
+"Your cousin?"
+
+"Yes." He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead? I suppose he is. Will
+you--do you know anything about--about that sort of thing? Perhaps I'd
+better get some water."
+
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as Antony
+was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from which opened
+two more rooms. Cayley stepped into the passage, and opened the door on
+the right. The door from the office, through which he had gone, remained
+open. The door, at the end of the short passage was shut. Antony,
+kneeling by the body, followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had
+disappeared, kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but he was
+not conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was with the
+other man, sympathizing with him.
+
+"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself, "but the
+feeling that you're doing something, when there's obviously nothing to
+be done, is a great comfort."
+
+Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded. Cayley
+murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's face. Then he
+placed the handkerchief over it. A little sigh escaped Antony, a sigh of
+relief.
+
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+
+"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
+
+"That's very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police, doctors--I
+don't know. But you mustn't let me trespass on your kindness. Indeed, I
+should apologise for having trespassed so much already."
+
+"I came to see Beverley. He is an old friend of mine."
+
+"He's out playing golf. He will be back directly." Then, as if he had
+only just realized it, "They will all be back directly."
+
+"I will stay if I can be of any help."
+
+"Please do. You see, there are women. It will be rather painful. If you
+would--" He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile, pathetic
+in so big and self-reliant a man. "Just your moral support, you know. It
+would be something."
+
+"Of course." Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully, "Well,
+then, I'll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the police."
+
+"The police? Y-yes." He looked doubtfully at the other. "I suppose--"
+
+Antony spoke frankly.
+
+"Now, look here, Mr.--er--"
+
+"Cayley. I'm Mark Ablett's cousin. I live with him."
+
+"My name's Gillingham. I'm sorry, I ought to have told you before. Well
+now, Mr. Cayley, we shan't do any good by pretending. Here's a man been
+shot--well, somebody shot him."
+
+"He might have shot himself," mumbled Cayley.
+
+"Yes, he might have, but he didn't. Or if he did, somebody was in the
+room at the time, and that somebody isn't here now. And that somebody
+took a revolver away with him. Well, the police will want to say a word
+about that, won't they?"
+
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+
+"Oh, I know what you're thinking, and believe me I do sympathize with
+you, but we can't be children about it. If your cousin Mark Ablett was
+in the room with this"--he indicated the body--"this man, then--"
+
+"Who said he was?" said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at Antony.
+
+"You did."
+
+"I was in the library. Mark went in--he may have come out again--I know
+nothing. Somebody else may have gone in--"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Antony patiently, as if to a little child. "You know
+your cousin; I don't. Let's agree that he had nothing to do with it. But
+somebody was in the room when this man was shot, and--well, the police
+will have to know. Don't you think--" He looked at the telephone. "Or
+would you rather I did it?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+
+"May I--er--look round a bit?" Antony nodded towards the open door.
+
+"Oh, do. Yes." He sat down and drew the telephone towards him. "You must
+make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham. You see, I've known Mark for a
+very long time. But, of course, you're quite right, and I'm merely being
+stupid." He took off the receiver.
+
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance with
+this "office," we are coming into it from the hall, through the door
+which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience, has been
+magically unlocked for us. As we stand just inside the door, the length
+of the room runs right and left; or, more accurately, to the right only,
+for the left-hand wall is almost within our reach. Immediately opposite
+to us, across the breadth of the room (some fifteen feet), is that other
+door, by which Cayley went out and returned a few minutes ago. In the
+right-hand wall, thirty feet away from us, are the French windows.
+Crossing the room and going out by the opposite door, we come into a
+passage, from which two rooms lead. The one on the right, into which
+Cayley went, is less than half the length of the office, a small, square
+room, which has evidently been used some time or other as a bedroom. The
+bed is no longer there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold taps, in
+a corner; chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers. The window
+faces the same way as the French windows in the next room; but anybody
+looking out of the bedroom window has his view on the immediate right
+shut off by the outer wall of the office, which projects, by reason of
+its greater length, fifteen feet further into the lawn.
+
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom. The three rooms
+together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used, perhaps, during
+the occupation of the previous owner, by some invalid, who could not
+manage the stairs, but allowed by Mark to fall into disuse, save for the
+living-room. At any rate, he never slept downstairs.
+
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom, the
+room into which Cayley had been. The window was open, and he looked out
+at the well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful stretch of park
+beyond; and he felt very sorry for the owner of it all, who was now
+mixed up in so grim a business.
+
+"Cayley thinks he did it," said Antony to himself. "That's obvious. It
+explains why he wasted so much time banging on the door. Why should
+he try to break a lock when it's so much easier to break a window?
+Of course he might just have lost his head; on the other hand, he
+might--well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a chance of getting
+away. The same about the police, and--oh, lots of things. Why, for
+instance, did we run all the way round the house in order to get to the
+windows? Surely there's a back way out through the hall. I must have a
+look later on."
+
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost his head.
+
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to see
+Cayley in the doorway. He remained looking at him for a moment, asking
+himself a question. It was rather a curious question. He was asking
+himself why the door was open.
+
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained easily
+enough. But why had he expected the door to be shut? He did not remember
+shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see it open now, to see
+Cayley through the doorway, just coming into the room. Something working
+sub-consciously in his brain had told him that it was surprising. Why?
+
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment; the
+answer would come to him later on. He had a wonderfully retentive
+mind. Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make its corresponding
+impression somewhere in his brain; often without his being conscious of
+it; and these photographic impressions were always there ready for him
+when he wished to develop them.
+
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+
+"I've telephoned," he said. "They're sending an inspector or some one
+from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from Stanton." He
+shrugged his shoulders. "We're in for it now."
+
+"How far away is Middleston?" It was the town for which Antony had taken
+a ticket that morning--only six hours ago. How absurd it seemed.
+
+"About twenty miles. These people will be coming back soon."
+
+"Beverley, and the others?"
+
+"Yes. I expect they'll want to go away at once."
+
+"Much better that they should."
+
+"Yes." Cayley was silent for a little. Then he said, "You're staying
+near here?"
+
+"I'm at 'The George,' at Waldheim."
+
+"If you're by yourself, I wish you'd put up here. You see," he went on
+awkwardly, "you'll have to be here--for the--the inquest and--and so
+on. If I may offer you my cousin's hospitality in his--I mean if he
+doesn't--if he really has--"
+
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+
+"That's good. Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he's a friend of yours.
+He's a good fellow."
+
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to
+say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn't
+follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally;
+and when they have gone off, people lose their heads and run away,
+fearing that their story will not be believed. Nevertheless, when people
+run away, whether innocently or guiltily, one can't help wondering which
+way they went.
+
+"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+
+"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.
+
+"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself. "The murderer.
+Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
+killed."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, how else could he have got away? He didn't go by the windows in
+the next room, because they were shut."
+
+"Isn't that rather odd?"
+
+"Well, I thought so at first, but--" He pointed to the wall jutting out
+on the right. "You see, you're protected from the rest of the house if
+you get out here, and you're quite close to the shrubbery. If you go out
+at the French windows, I imagine you're much more visible. All that part
+of the house--" he waved his right hand--"the west, well, north-west
+almost, where the kitchen parts are--you see, you're hidden from them
+here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right
+to come out of this window. He'd be into the shrubbery at once."
+
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well,
+considering that this is the first time you've been to it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I'm
+right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"
+
+"Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away--towards the shrubbery. "Do
+you want to go noticing in there now?" He nodded at it.
+
+"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
+"It's--well, there's no hurry."
+
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the
+answer, and could now breathe again.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
+
+
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason--the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
+when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted
+to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little
+weakness of their host's, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill
+that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home
+comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs.
+Calladine, without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn't like it, was
+firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they should
+be back by four.
+
+"I really don't think Mark wants us, you know," said the Major. Having
+played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the
+afternoon that he was really better than that. "With this brother of his
+coming, he'll be only too glad to have us out of the way."
+
+"Of course he will, Major." This from Bill. "You'd like to play,
+wouldn't you, Miss Norris?"
+
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+
+"Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn't keep you here.
+Besides, it's so dull for you, not playing."
+
+"Just nine holes, mother," pleaded Betty.
+
+"The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were
+having another round, and then it could come back for us," said Bill
+brilliantly.
+
+"It's certainly much cooler here than I expected," put in the Major.
+
+Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the golf-house,
+and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them out of the way. So
+she consented to nine holes; and the match having ended all-square, and
+everybody having played much better than in the morning, they drove back
+to the Red House, very well pleased with themselves.
+
+"Halo," said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, "isn't that
+old Tony?"
+
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill waved,
+and he waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in front with
+the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+
+"Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?" He had a sudden
+idea. "Don't say you're Mark Ablett's long-lost brother from Australia,
+though I could quite believe it of you." He laughed boyishly.
+
+"Hallo, Bill," said Antony quietly. "Will you introduce me? I'm afraid
+I've got some bad news."
+
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in
+a low voice.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said. "Robert
+Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed." He jerked a thumb
+over his shoulder. "In the house."
+
+"Good God!" said the Major.
+
+"Do you mean that he has killed himself?" asked Mrs. Calladine. "Just
+now?"
+
+"It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,"--he half-turned
+to Beverley and explained--"I was coming to see you, Bill, and I arrived
+just after the--the death. Mr. Cayley and I found the body. Mr. Cayley
+being busy just now--there are police and doctors and so on in the
+house--he asked me to tell you. He says that no doubt you would prefer,
+the house-party having been broken up in this tragic way, to leave as
+soon as possible." He gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went
+on, "I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you
+must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make
+your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish
+to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which you could go by
+if you wished it."
+
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary
+to express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had
+already used. Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying, "Who's
+killed?" in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was instinctively
+looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a messenger announced
+the death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain.
+Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.
+
+"We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand," she said; "but we
+can't just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because something
+terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can arrange later
+what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps we--"
+she hesitated.
+
+"The Major and I might be useful anyway," said Bill. "Isn't that what
+you mean, Mrs. Calladine?"
+
+"Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+
+Antony looked back unwaveringly--and said nothing.
+
+"I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, "that
+it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night."
+
+"Very well," she agreed quietly. "You will come with us, Ruth?"
+
+"I'll see you safely there," said Bill in a meek voice. He didn't quite
+know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the Red House
+for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London seemed
+to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony
+alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+
+"Cayley wants you to stay, Bill. You have to go anyhow, to-morrow, Major
+Rumbold?"
+
+"Yes. I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine."
+
+"Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not hesitate
+to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard any
+telephoning or telegraphing that you want done." He smiled again and
+added, "Please forgive me if I seem to have taken a good deal upon
+myself, but I just happened to be handy as a mouthpiece for Cayley." He
+bowed to them and went into the house.
+
+"Well!" said Miss Norris dramatically.
+
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was just
+crossing into the library with Cayley. The latter stopped and nodded to
+Antony.
+
+"Wait a moment, Inspector. Here's Mr. Gillingham. He'd better come with
+us." And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch."
+
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+
+"Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley.
+
+"Oh! Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit. I like
+to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+"We all do."
+
+"Oh!" He looked at Antony with interest. "D'you know where you are in
+this case?"
+
+"I know where I'm going to be."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Put through it by Inspector Birch," said Antony with a smile.
+
+The inspector laughed genially.
+
+"Well, I'll spare you as much as I can. Come along."
+
+They went into the library. The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it. Antony made
+himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be interested.
+
+"We'll start with the dead man," said the Inspector. "Robert Ablett,
+didn't you say?" He took out his notebook.
+
+"Yes. Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here."
+
+"Ah!" He began to sharpen a pencil. "Staying in the house?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew
+about Robert. This was news to him. "I see. Sent out of the country in
+disgrace. What had he done?"
+
+"I hardly know. I was only about twelve at the time. The sort of age
+when you're told not to ask questions."
+
+"Inconvenient questions?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So you don't really know whether he had been merely wild or--or
+wicked?"
+
+"No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman," added Cayley. "Perhaps what might
+seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the world."
+
+"I daresay, Mr. Cayley," smiled the Inspector. "Anyhow, it was more
+convenient to have him in Australia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mark Ablett never talked about him?"
+
+"Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and--well, very glad he
+was in Australia."
+
+"Did he write Mark sometimes?"
+
+"Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years."
+
+"Asking for money?"
+
+"Something of the sort. I don't think Mark always answered them. As far
+as I know, he never sent any money."
+
+"Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was
+unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?"
+
+"They'd never liked each other as boys. There was never any affection
+between them. I don't know whose fault it was in the first place--if
+anybody's."
+
+"Still, Mark might have given him a hand?"
+
+"I understand," said Cayley, "that Robert spent his whole life asking
+for hands."
+
+The inspector nodded.
+
+"I know that sort. Well, now, we'll go on to this morning. This letter
+that Mark got--did you see it?"
+
+"Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards."
+
+"Any address?"
+
+"No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"I don't know. In Mark's pocket, I expect."
+
+"Ah!" He pulled at his beard. "Well, we'll come to that. Can you
+remember what it said?"
+
+"As far as I remember, something like this: 'Mark, your loving brother
+is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you
+warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I
+hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.'"
+
+"Ah!" The inspector copied it down carefully. "Did you notice the
+postmark?"
+
+"London."
+
+"And what was Mark's attitude?"
+
+"Annoyance, disgust--" Cayley hesitated.
+
+"Apprehension?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant interview,
+not of any unpleasant outcome for himself."
+
+"You mean that he wasn't afraid of violence, or blackmail, or anything
+of that sort?"
+
+"He didn't appear to be."
+
+"Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o'clock?"
+
+"Yes, about that."
+
+"Who was in the house then?"
+
+"Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don't know which. Of
+course, you will ask them directly, no doubt."
+
+"With your permission. No guests?"
+
+"They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley. "Oh, by the
+way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see
+them at all? It isn't very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I
+suggested--" he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. "I understand
+that they want to go back to London this evening. There's no objection
+to that, I suppose?"
+
+"You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?"
+
+"Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him
+later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Cayley. Well, now then, let's go back to three
+o'clock. Where were you when Robert arrived?"
+
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey had
+asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he had last
+seen him going up to the Temple.
+
+"She went away, and I went on with my book. There was a step on the
+stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down. He went into the
+office, and I went on with my book again. I went into the library for
+a moment, to refer to another book, and when I was in there I heard a
+shot. At least, it was a loud bang, I wasn't sure if it was a shot. I
+stood and listened. Then I came slowly to the door and looked out. Then
+I went back again, hesitated a bit, you know, and finally decided to go
+across to the office, and make sure that it was all right. I turned the
+handle of the door and found it was locked. Then I got frightened, and I
+banged at the door, and shouted, and--well, that was when Mr. Gillingham
+arrived." He went on to explain how they had found the body.
+
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley. Mr.
+Mark, now. You thought he was in the Temple. Could he have come in, and
+gone up to his room, without your seeing him?"
+
+"There are back stairs. He wouldn't have used them in the ordinary way,
+of course. But I wasn't in the hall all the afternoon. He might easily
+have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about it."
+
+"So that you weren't surprised when you saw him coming down?"
+
+"Oh, not a bit."
+
+"Well, did he say anything?"
+
+"He said, 'Robert's here?' or something of the sort. I suppose he'd
+heard the bell, or the voices in the hall."
+
+"Which way does his bedroom face? Could he have seen him coming down the
+drive?"
+
+"He might have, yes."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, then, I said 'Yes,' and he gave a sort of shrug, and said, 'Don't
+go too far away, I might want you'; and then went in."
+
+"What did you think he meant by that?"
+
+"Well, he consults me a good deal, you know. I'm his sort of unofficial
+solicitor in a kind of way."
+
+"This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?"
+
+"Oh, yes. That's how he regarded it, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes. How long was it before you heard the shot?"
+
+"Very soon. Two minutes, perhaps."
+
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully. Suddenly he said:
+
+"What is your theory of Robert's death?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You've probably seen more than I've seen," he answered. "It's your job.
+I can only speak as a layman--and Mark's friend."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing
+a revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get
+it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark
+lost his head, finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and
+a dead man at his feet. His one idea was to escape. He locked the door
+almost instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went
+out of the window."
+
+"Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?"
+
+"I should hardly call it 'reasonable' to lose your head," said Antony,
+getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+
+"Well, you know what I mean. It explains things."
+
+"Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more complicated."
+
+"Have you any other explanation?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?--anything that he left out after you arrived here?"
+
+"No, thanks. He described it all very accurately."
+
+"Ah! Well now, about yourself. You're not staying in the house, I
+gather?"
+
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+
+"Yes. Did you hear the shot?"
+
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. "Yes. Just as I came
+in sight of the house. It didn't make any impression at the time, but I
+remember it now."
+
+"Where were you then?"
+
+"Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house."
+
+"Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?"
+
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+
+"Nobody," he said. "No."
+
+"You're certain of that?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could be
+suspected of a mistake.
+
+"Thank you. You're at 'The George,' if I want you?"
+
+"Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest," explained
+Cayley.
+
+"Good. Well now, about these servants?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+
+
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+
+"Well, you won't want me, I suppose, inspector," he said.
+
+"No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You'll be about, of course?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+The inspector hesitated.
+
+"I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone.
+You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get
+alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself."
+
+"Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel
+rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr. Gillingham
+very kindly--" He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the door, and
+left his sentence unfinished.
+
+"Ah, that reminds me," said the Inspector. "Didn't you say that one of
+your guests--Mr. Beverley was it?--a friend of Mr. Gillingham's, was
+staying on?"
+
+"Yes; would you like to see him?"
+
+"Afterwards, if I may."
+
+"I'll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a room
+upstairs where I work--any of the servants will show you. Ah, Stevens,
+Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering. The
+housekeeper's room had heard something of the news by this time, and
+Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff
+exactly what he had said, and what she had said. The details were not
+quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that Mr.
+Mark's brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and that
+Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she opened
+the door to him. She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens. And Mrs.
+Stevens--if you remember, Audrey--had always said that people didn't go
+away to Australia except for very good reasons. Elsie agreed with both
+of them, but she had a contribution of her own to make. She had actually
+heard Mr. Mark in the office, threatening his brother.
+
+"You mean Mr. Robert," said the second parlour-maid. She had been having
+a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang. In fact, it had
+woken her up--just like something going off, it was.
+
+"It was Mr. Mark's voice," said Elsie firmly.
+
+"Pleading for mercy," said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully from the
+door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she had not
+given her presence away. But it was hard to listen in silence when she
+knew so well from her novelettes just what happened on these occasions.
+
+"I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind," said Mrs. Stevens.
+"Well, Elsie?"
+
+"He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, 'It's my turn now,' he
+said, triumphant-like."
+
+"Well, if you think that's a threat, dear, you're very particular, I
+must say."
+
+But Audrey remembered Elsie's words when she was in front of Inspector
+Birch. She gave her own evidence with the readiness of one who had
+already repeated it several times, and was examined and cross-examined
+by the Inspector with considerable skill. The temptation to say, "Never
+mind about what you said to him," was strong, but he resisted it,
+knowing that in this way he would discover best what he said to her. By
+this time both his words and the looks he gave her were getting their
+full value from Audrey, but the general meaning of them seemed to be
+well-established.
+
+"Then you didn't see Mr. Mark at all."
+
+"No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room. Or come
+in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by the back."
+
+"Yes. Well, I think that's all that I want to know, thank you very much.
+Now what about the other servants?"
+
+"Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together," said Audrey
+eagerly. "He was saying--Mr. Mark, I mean--"
+
+"Ah! Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself. Who is Elsie,
+by the way?"
+
+"One of the housemaids. Shall I send her to you, sir?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message. It interrupted a few remarks
+from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie's conduct that afternoon which were (Elsie
+thought) much better interrupted. In Mrs. Stevens' opinion any crime
+committed that afternoon in the office was as nothing to the double
+crime committed by the unhappy Elsie.
+
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have said
+nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon. She was bad at
+concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering it. Elsie
+knew perfectly well that she had no business to come down the front
+stairs, and it was no excuse to say that she happened to come out of
+Miss Norris' room just at the head of the stairs, and didn't think it
+would matter, as there was nobody in the hall, and what was she doing
+anyhow in Miss Norris' room at that time? Returning a magazine? Lent by
+Miss Norris, might she ask? Well, not exactly lent. Really, Elsie!--and
+this in a respectable house! In vain for poor Elsie to plead that
+a story by her favourite author was advertised on the cover, with a
+picture of the villain falling over the cliff. "That's where you'll go
+to, my girl, if you aren't careful," said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch. All that interested him was that she was passing
+through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+
+"And stopped to listen?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody really
+understood her. "I was just passing through the hall, just as you might
+have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets, didn't
+think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done." And she
+sniffed slightly.
+
+"Come, come," said the Inspector soothingly, "I didn't mean to
+suggest--"
+
+"Everyone is very unkind to me," said Elsie between sniffs, "and there's
+that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they'd have been, if it had
+been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this day."
+
+"Nonsense, we're going to be very proud of you. I shouldn't be surprised
+if your evidence were of very great importance. Now then, what was it
+you heard? Try to remember the exact words."
+
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+
+"Yes, but who said it?"
+
+"Mr. Robert."
+
+"How do you know it was Mr. Robert? Had you heard his voice before?"
+
+"I don't take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance with
+Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn't Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr. Cayley, nor
+any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown Mr. Robert into
+the office not five minutes before--"
+
+"Quite so," said the Inspector hurriedly. "Mr. Robert, undoubtedly.
+Working in a passage?"
+
+"That was what it sounded like, sir."
+
+"H'm. Working a passage over--could that have been it?"
+
+"That's right, sir," said Elsie eagerly. "He'd worked his passage over."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then Mr. Mark said loudly--sort of triumphant-like--'It's my turn
+now. You wait.'"
+
+"Triumphantly?"
+
+"As much as to say his chance had come."
+
+"And that's all you heard?"
+
+"That's all, sir--not standing there listening, but just passing through
+the hall, as it might be any time."
+
+"Yes. Well, that's really very important, Elsie. Thank you."
+
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen. She was
+ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own. There was a
+point which was puzzling him. He went through the hall to the front of
+the house and stood at the open door, looking out on to the drive. He
+and Cayley had run round the house to the left. Surely it would have
+been quicker to have run round to the right? The front door was not in
+the middle of the house, it was to the end. Undoubtedly they went the
+longest way round. But perhaps there was something in the way, if one
+went to the right--a wall, say. He strolled off in that direction,
+followed a path round the house and came in sight of the office windows.
+Quite simple, and about half the distance of the other way. He went on
+a little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in windows.
+It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage. At the end of the
+passage was another door. He opened it and found himself in the hall
+again.
+
+"And, of course, that's the quickest way of the three," he said to
+himself. "Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left and
+there you are. Instead of which, we ran the longest way round the house.
+Why? Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape? Only, in that
+case--why run? Also, how did Cayley know then that it was Mark who
+was trying to escape? If he had guessed--well, not guessed, but been
+afraid--that one had shot the other, it was much more likely that Robert
+had shot Mark. Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought.
+The first thing he had said when he turned the body over was, 'Thank
+God! I was afraid it was Mark.' But why should he want to give Robert
+time in which to get away? And again--why run, if he did want to give
+him time?"
+
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and sat
+down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+
+"Now then," he said, "let's go through Cayley's mind carefully, and see
+what we get."
+
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office. The
+servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his book.
+Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case he is
+wanted, and goes to meet his brother. What does Cayley expect? Possibly
+that he won't be wanted at all; possibly that his advice may be wanted
+in the matter, say, of paying Robert's debts, or getting him a passage
+back to Australia; possibly that his physical assistance may be wanted
+to get an obstreperous Robert out of the house. Well, he sits there for
+a moment, and then goes into the library. Why not? He is still within
+reach, if wanted. Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot. A pistol-shot is the
+last noise you expect to hear in a country-house; very natural, then,
+that for the moment he would hardly realize what it was. He listens--and
+hears nothing more. Perhaps it wasn't a pistol-shot after all. After a
+moment or two he goes to the library door again. The profound silence
+makes him uneasy now. Was it a pistol-shot? Absurd! Still--no harm in
+going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure himself. So he
+tries the door--and finds it locked!
+
+What are his emotions now? Alarm, uncertainty. Something is happening.
+Incredible though it seems, it must have been a pistol-shot. He is
+banging at the door and calling out to Mark, and there is no answer.
+Alarm--yes. But alarm for whose safety? Mark's, obviously. Robert is a
+stranger; Mark is an intimate friend. Robert has written a letter that
+morning, the letter of a man in a dangerous temper. Robert is the tough
+customer; Mark the highly civilized gentleman. If there has been a
+quarrel, it is Robert who has shot Mark. He bangs at the door again.
+
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley's conduct
+had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment, Cayley had lost
+his head. Anybody else might have done the same. But, as soon as Antony
+suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw that that was the obvious thing
+to do. So he leads the way to the windows--the longest way.
+
+Why? To give the murderer time to escape? If he had thought then that
+Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes. But he thinks that Robert is the
+murderer. If he is not hiding anything, he must think so. Indeed he says
+so, when he sees the body; "I was afraid it was Mark," he says, when he
+finds that it is Robert who is killed. No reason, then, for wishing to
+gain time. On the contrary, every instinct would urge him to get into
+the room as quickly as possible, and seize the wicked Robert. Yet he
+goes the longest way round. Why? And then, why run?
+
+"That's the question," said Antony to himself, as he filled his pipe,
+"and bless me if I know the answer. It may be, of course, that Cayley is
+just a coward. He was in no hurry to get close to Robert's revolver, and
+yet wanted me to think that he was bursting with eagerness. That would
+explain it, but then that makes Cayley out a coward. Is he? At any rate
+he pushed his face up against the window bravely enough. No, I want a
+better answer than that."
+
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking. There were one
+or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be taken out
+and looked at. For the moment he left them undisturbed. They would come
+back to him later when he wanted them.
+
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+
+"I was wanting a new profession," he thought, "and now I've found it.
+Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound. I shall begin to-day."
+
+Whatever Antony Gillingham's other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and quickly.
+And this clear brain of his had already told him that he was the only
+person in the house at that moment who was unhandicapped in the search
+for truth. The inspector had arrived in it to find a man dead and a man
+missing. It was extremely probable, no doubt, that the missing man
+had shot the dead man. But it was more than extremely probable, it was
+almost certain that the Inspector would start with the idea that this
+extremely probable solution was the one true solution, and that, in
+consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without prejudice any
+other solution. As regards all the rest of them--Cayley, the guests,
+the servants--they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark (or possibly,
+for all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against, each other;
+they had formed some previous opinion, from what had been said that
+morning, of the sort of man Robert was. No one of them could consider
+the matter with an unbiased mind.
+
+But Antony could. He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about
+Robert. He had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead man
+was. He knew that a tragedy had happened before he knew that anybody was
+missing. Those first impressions, which are so vitally important, had
+been received solely on the merits of the case; they were founded on the
+evidence of his senses, not on the evidence of his emotions or of other
+people's senses. He was in a much better position for getting at the
+truth than was the Inspector.
+
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector Birch
+a slight injustice. Birch was certainly prepared to believe that Mark
+had shot his brother. Robert had been shown into the office (witness
+Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert (witness Cayley); Mark and Robert
+had been heard talking (witness Elsie); there was a shot (witness
+everybody); the room had been entered and Robert's body had been found
+(witness Cayley and Gillingham). And Mark was missing. Obviously,
+then, Mark had killed his brother: accidentally, as Cayley believed, or
+deliberately, as Elsie's evidence seemed to suggest. There was no point
+in looking for a difficult solution to a problem, when the easy solution
+had no flaw in it. But at the same time Birch would have preferred the
+difficult solution, simply because there was more credit attached to
+it. A "sensational" arrest of somebody in the house would have given him
+more pleasure than a commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett across
+country. Mark must be found, guilty or not guilty. But there were other
+possibilities. It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the
+time when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector,
+the Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon
+the possibilities in connection with Mr. Gillingham. Was it only a
+coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did? And Mr.
+Beverley's curious answers when asked for some account of his friend.
+An assistant in a tobacconist's, a waiter! An odd man, Mr. Gillingham,
+evidently. It might be as well to keep an eye on him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
+
+
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different
+manner. The Major, gruff and simple: "If you want me, command me.
+Anything I can do--Good-bye"; Betty, silently sympathetic, with
+everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell;
+Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know what to say, but
+apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into one
+despairing gesture that Cayley's unvarying "Thank you very much" might
+have been taken this time as gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with a
+special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to join
+Antony on his garden seat.
+
+"Well, this is a rum show," said Bill as he sat down.
+
+"Very rum, William."
+
+"And you actually walked right into it?"
+
+"Right into it," said Antony.
+
+"Then you're the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn't keep to the
+point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but
+kept asking me questions about where I'd met you first, and all sorts of
+dull things like that. Now, what really happened?"
+
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told
+the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate
+"Good Lords" and whistles.
+
+"I say, it's a bit of a business, isn't it? Where do I come in,
+exactly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through it
+by that inspector as if I knew all about it--what's the idea?"
+
+Antony smiled at him.
+
+"Well, there's nothing to worry about, you know. Naturally Birch wanted
+to see one of you so as to know what you'd all been doing all day. And
+Cayley was nice enough to think that you'd be company for me, as I knew
+you already. And well, that's all."
+
+"You're staying here, in the house?" said Bill eagerly. "Good man.
+That's splendid."
+
+"It reconciles you to the departure of some of the others?"
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway," he murmured.
+
+"I congratulate you. I liked her looks. And that grey dress. A nice
+comfortable sort of woman."
+
+"You fool, that's her mother."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she does
+just now. So try and put up with me."
+
+"I say, do you really?" said Bill, rather flattered. He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+
+"Yes. You see, things are going to happen here soon."
+
+"Inquests and that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, perhaps something before that. Hallo, here comes Cayley."
+
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big, heavy-shouldered
+man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly faces which can never
+quite be called plain. "Bad luck on Cayley," said Bill. "I say, ought
+I to tell him how sorry I am and all that sort of thing? It seems so
+dashed inadequate."
+
+"I shouldn't bother," said Antony.
+
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+
+"We can make room for you," said Bill, getting up.
+
+"Oh, don't bother, thanks. I just came to say," he went on to Antony,
+"that naturally they've rather lost their heads in the kitchen,
+and dinner won't be till half-past eight. Do just as you like about
+dressing, of course. And what about your luggage?"
+
+"I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see about
+it."
+
+"The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the station."
+
+"It's very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow, to
+pack up and pay my bill. Besides, it's a good evening for a walk. If you
+wouldn't mind it, Bill?"
+
+"I should love it."
+
+"Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I'll send the car round for it
+later."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay. Antony wondered
+whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon's happenings, or whether
+it was the one subject he wished to avoid. To break the silence he asked
+carelessly if the Inspector had gone.
+
+Cayley nodded. Then he said abruptly, "He's getting a warrant for Mark's
+arrest."
+
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug
+of the shoulders, "Well, he was bound to do that, wasn't he? It doesn't
+follow that--well, it doesn't mean anything. They naturally want to get
+hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty."
+
+"Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?" said Cayley, looking at him
+steadily.
+
+"Mark? It's absurd," said Bill impetuously.
+
+"Bill's loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley."
+
+"And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?"
+
+"Exactly. So perhaps I might be too frank."
+
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the
+seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his
+hands, gazing at the ground.
+
+"I want you to be quite frank," he said at last. "Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned. So I want to know how my suggestion
+strikes you who have no prejudices either way."
+
+"Your suggestion?"
+
+"My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely accidental as
+I told the Inspector."
+
+Bill looked up with interest.
+
+"You mean that Robert did the hold-up business," he said, "and there was
+a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then Mark lost his
+head and bolted? That sort of idea?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that seems all right." He turned to Antony. "There's nothing
+wrong with that, is there? It's the most natural explanation to anyone
+who knows Mark."
+
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+
+"I suppose it is," he said slowly. "But there's one thing that worries
+me rather."
+
+"What's that?" Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+
+"The key."
+
+"The key?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony. "What about the key?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered. Suppose Robert was
+killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought of nothing
+but getting away before anyone could see him. Well, very likely
+he'd lock the door and put the key in his pocket. He'd do it without
+thinking, just to gain a moment's time."
+
+"Yes, that's what I suggest."
+
+"It seems sound enough," said Bill. "Sort of thing you'd do without
+thinking. Besides, if you are going to run away, it gives you more of a
+chance."
+
+"Yes, that's all right if the key is there. But suppose it isn't there?"
+
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact, startled
+them both. They looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Cayley.
+
+"Well, it's just a question of where people happen to keep their keys.
+You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your door in
+case anybody comes wandering in when you've only got one sock and a pair
+of braces on. Well, that's natural enough. And if you look round the
+bedrooms of almost any house, you'll find the keys all ready, so that
+you can lock yourself in at a moment's notice. But downstairs people
+don't lock themselves in. It's really never done at all. Bill, for
+instance, has never locked himself into the dining-room in order to be
+alone with the sherry. On the other hand, all women, and particularly
+servants, have a horror of burglars. And if a burglar gets in by the
+window, they like to limit his activities to that particular room. So
+they keep the keys on the outside of the doors, and lock the doors when
+they go to bed." He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and added, "At
+least, my mother always used to."
+
+"You mean," said Bill excitedly, "that the key was on the outside of the
+door when Mark went into the room?"
+
+"Well, I was just wondering."
+
+"Have you noticed the other rooms--the billiard-room, and library, and so
+on?" said Cayley.
+
+"I've only just thought about it while I've been sitting out here. You
+live here--haven't you ever noticed them?"
+
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+
+"It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can't say that I have." He
+turned to Bill. "Have you?"
+
+"Good Lord, no. I should never worry about a thing like that."
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," laughed Antony. "Well, we can have a look when
+we go in. If the other keys are outside, then this one was probably
+outside too, and in that case well, it makes it more interesting."
+
+Cayley said nothing. Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said, "Does
+it make much difference?"
+
+"It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there. Take your
+accidental theory and see where you get to. No instinctive turning of
+the key now, is there? He's got to open the door to get it, and opening
+the door means showing his head to anybody in the hall--his cousin, for
+instance, whom he left there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark's state
+of mind, frightened to death lest he should be found with the body,
+going to do anything so foolhardy as that?"
+
+"He needn't have been afraid of me," said Cayley.
+
+"Then why didn't he call for you? He knew you were about. You could
+have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice. But the whole theory
+of Mark's escape is that he was afraid of you and of everybody else,
+and that he had no other idea but to get out of the room himself, and
+prevent you or the servants from coming into it. If the key had been on
+the inside, he would probably have locked the door. If it were on the
+outside, he almost certainly wouldn't."
+
+"Yes, I expect you're right," said Bill thoughtfully. "Unless he took
+the key in with him, and locked the door at once."
+
+"Exactly. But in that case you have to build up a new theory entirely."
+
+"You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?"
+
+"Yes; that, certainly. But it also seems to make Mark out an absolute
+idiot. Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons which neither
+of you know anything about, he had wished to get rid of his brother.
+Would he have done it like that? Just killed him and then run away? Why,
+that's practically suicide--suicide whilst of unsound mind. No. If you
+really wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a little
+bit more cleverly than that. You'd begin by treating him as a friend, so
+as to avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at last, you would try
+to make it look like an accident, or suicide, or the work of some other
+man. Wouldn't you?"
+
+"You mean you'd give yourself a bit of a run for your money?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean. If you were going to do it deliberately, that
+is to say and lock yourself in before you began."
+
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea. With his
+eyes still on the ground, he said now: "I hold to my opinion that it was
+purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head and ran away."
+
+"But what about the key?" asked Bill.
+
+"We don't know yet that the keys were outside. I don't at all agree with
+Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms are always outside
+the doors. Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I think we shall probably
+find that these are inside."
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory
+is probably the correct one. Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered that's all. You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and tell
+you what I thought. But no doubt you're right, and we shall find them
+inside, as you say.
+
+"Even if the key was outside," went on Cayley stubbornly, "I still
+think it might have been accidental. He might have taken it in with him,
+knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and not wishing
+to be interrupted."
+
+"But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out? Besides, I should think that if a man were going
+to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation, the last
+thing he would do would be to barricade himself in with him. He would
+want to open all the doors and say, 'Get out of it'"
+
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate. Antony gave a little
+apologetic laugh and stood up.
+
+"Well, come on, Bill," he said; "we ought to be stepping." He held out a
+hand and pulled his friend up. Then, turning to Cayley, he went on, "You
+must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on rather. Of course, I
+was considering the matter purely as an outsider; just as a problem, I
+mean, which didn't concern the happiness of any of my friends."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Gillingham," said Cayley, standing up too. "It
+is for you to make allowances for me. I'm sure you will. You say that
+you're going up to the inn now about your bag?"
+
+"Yes." He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland stretching
+about the house. "Let me see; it's over in that direction, isn't it?" He
+pointed southwards. "Can we get to the village that way, or must we go
+by the road?"
+
+"I'll show you, my boy," said Bill.
+
+"Bill will show you. The park reaches almost as far as the village. Then
+I'll send the car round in about half an hour."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house. Antony took hold of
+Bill's arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
+
+
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and
+gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park
+dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A thick
+belt of trees on the left divided them from the main road.
+
+"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
+
+"Oh, rather. Dozens of times."
+
+"I meant just here where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and play
+billiards all the time?"
+
+"Oh Lord, no!"
+
+"Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks never by
+any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the dusty
+road think how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine them doing
+all sorts of jolly things inside." He pointed to the right. "Ever been
+over there?"
+
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+
+"Well, not very much. I've often been along here, of course, because
+it's the short way to the village."
+
+"Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
+
+"What sort of things?"
+
+"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners for Men,
+and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying with him,
+and how many rows your little house-party has had this week, and how you
+get on with Cayley, and all the rest of it."
+
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+
+"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
+
+"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
+
+"What fun! I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one oughtn't
+to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and one's host--"
+He broke off a little uncertainly, and then rounded off his period by
+saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show it is. Good Lord!"
+
+"Well?" said Antony. "Carry on, Mark."
+
+"What do I think of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had
+never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind. What did he
+think of Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+
+"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken down
+by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split infinitive or two.
+Talk about anything you like, how you like. Well, I'll give you a start.
+Which do you enjoy more, a week-end here or at the Barrington's, say?"
+
+"Well; of course, that would depend--"
+
+"Take it that she was there in both cases."
+
+"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs. "It's a little
+difficult to say," he went on. "Of course they do you awfully well
+here."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't think I know any house where things are so comfortable. One's
+room--the food--drinks--cigars--the way everything's arranged: All that
+sort of thing. They look after you awfully well."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes." He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a new
+idea: "They look after you awfully well. Well, that's just what it is
+about Mark. That's one of his little ways. Weaknesses. Looking after
+you."
+
+"Arranging things for you?"
+
+"Yes. Of course, it's a delightful house, and there's plenty to do, and
+opportunities for every game or sport that's ever been invented, and,
+as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony, there's
+a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is on parade, as it were.
+You've got to do as you're told."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
+things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with the
+arrangement. For instance, Betty--Miss Calladine--and I were going to
+play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She's frightfully
+hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I'm rather
+erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us
+what we were going to do. Well, he'd got up a little tournament for
+us after tea--handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out
+neatly in red and black ink--prizes and all--quite decent ones, you
+know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
+Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
+ready to play again after tea--I had to give her half-fifteen according
+to his handicap--but somehow--" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It didn't quite fit in?"
+
+"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
+a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
+"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."
+
+"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
+
+"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."
+
+"Really, Bill?"
+
+"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
+see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
+she never comes here again."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Bill laughed to himself.
+
+"We were all in it, really--at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
+to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
+her?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
+of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
+believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and
+yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in ghosts
+at all. Rum chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris--she's an actress, some
+actress too--dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And poor
+Mark was frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know."
+
+"What about the others?"
+
+"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her--Miss Norris I mean--not
+to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn't there--Betty
+wouldn't let her be. As for the Major, I don't believe anything would
+frighten him."
+
+"Where did the ghost appear?"
+
+"Down by the bowling-green. That's supposed to be its haunt, you know.
+We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
+you know the bowling-green?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll show it to you after dinner."
+
+"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he's just like that."
+
+"Was he angry with all of you?"
+
+"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
+
+"This morning?"
+
+"Oh, no. He got over it--he generally does. He's just like a child.
+That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways. As a matter of
+fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Rather. We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
+
+"Is he generally in form?"
+
+"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
+He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
+self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and--" Bill broke off
+suddenly. "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
+host like this."
+
+"Don't think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
+with a warrant out against him."
+
+"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
+
+"It's the fact, Bill."
+
+"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it. He wouldn't murder anybody. It's a
+funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it. He's got his
+faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
+
+"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
+
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. "All the same," he
+said, "I can't believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean."
+
+"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
+run away?"
+
+Bill considered for a moment.
+
+"Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
+the ghost. Of course, that's different, rather."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. In each case it's a question of obeying your instinct
+instead of your reason."
+
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
+behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
+the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently down to
+the village of Waldheim--a few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of
+a church showing above the green.
+
+"Well, now," said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, "what about
+Cayley?"
+
+"How do you mean, what about him?"
+
+"I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You
+were wonderful. Now let's have Cayley's character. Cayley from within."
+
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a
+blooming novelist.
+
+"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy. Cayley's one of these heavy, quiet
+people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself
+away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
+
+"Some women like that type of ugliness."
+
+"Yes, that's true. Between ourselves, I think there's one here who does.
+Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left hand "down that
+way."
+
+"What's Jallands?"
+
+"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss
+Norbury--the girl--has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to
+prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn't much time for
+that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to any
+theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do."
+
+"Mark kept him busy?"
+
+"Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something
+for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily
+enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
+
+"He was fond of him?"
+
+"Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He'd sized Mark up,
+of course his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all
+the rest of it, but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to manage
+him."
+
+"Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests--you and Miss
+Norris and all of them?"
+
+"Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself. We
+didn't see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to enjoy
+ourselves, and well, he wasn't."
+
+"He wasn't there when the ghost walked?"
+
+"No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I
+expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls
+will be girls....--Hallo, here we are."
+
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to the
+landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room. It appeared that he had not
+very much packing to do, after all. He returned his brushes to his bag,
+glanced round to see that nothing else had been taken out, and went down
+again to settle his bill. He had decided to keep on his room for a few
+days; partly to save the landlord and his wife the disappointment of
+losing a guest so suddenly, partly in case he found it undesirable later
+on to remain at the Red House. For he was taking himself seriously as a
+detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while getting all the fun
+out of it which was possible) at every new profession he adopted; and he
+felt that there might come a time--after the inquest--say when he could
+not decently remain at the Red House as a guest, a friend of Bill's,
+enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley, whichever was to be regarded
+as his host, without forfeiting his independent attitude towards the
+events of that afternoon. At present he was staying in the house merely
+as a necessary witness, and, since he was there, Cayley could not object
+to him using his eyes; but if, after the inquest, it appeared that there
+was still work for a pair of independent and very keen eyes to do, then
+he must investigate, either with his host's approval or from beneath the
+roof of some other host; the landlord of 'The George,' for instance, who
+had no feelings in the matter.
+
+For of one thing Antony was certain. Cayley knew more than he professed
+to know. That is to say, he knew more than he wanted other people to
+know he knew. Antony was one of the "other people"; if, therefore, he
+was for trying to find out what it was that Cayley knew, he could hardly
+expect Cayley's approval of his labours. It would be 'The George,' then,
+for Antony after the inquest.
+
+What was the truth? Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even though
+he were hiding something. All that could be said against him at the
+moment was that he had gone the longest way round to get into the locked
+office and that this did not fit in with what he had told the Inspector.
+But it did fit in with the theory that he had been an accessory after
+the event, and that he wanted (while appearing to be in a hurry) to give
+his cousin as much time as possible in which to escape. That might not
+be the true solution, but it was at least a workable one. The theory
+which he had suggested to the Inspector was not.
+
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which Antony
+could consider all these matters from within The Red House. The car was
+at the door. He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on the front
+seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. "Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+
+
+Antony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner,
+and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the
+window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned
+over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He
+was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down
+his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an "Hallo!"
+through the door, and came in.
+
+"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
+
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Where's Mark?" he said.
+
+"Mark? You mean Cayley."
+
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. "Yes, I mean Cayley. Is
+he down? I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill." He got up from the bed and
+went on briskly with his dressing. "Oh, by the way," said Bill, taking
+his place on the bed, "your idea about the keys is a wash-out."
+
+"Why, how do you mean?"
+
+"I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
+thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the
+others are inside."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
+
+"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
+
+"Bother! I hoped you'd forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on the
+head, doesn't it?"
+
+"I never had a theory. I only said that if they were outside, it would
+probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that case
+Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
+
+"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything. Some were outside and
+some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting. When you
+were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the idea
+of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him."
+
+"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+"Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
+
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry
+as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
+conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+
+"You were quite right about the keys," said Bill, during a pause. He was
+less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than they,
+to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds of them
+all.
+
+"Keys?" said Cayley blankly.
+
+"We were wondering whether they were outside or inside."
+
+"Oh! oh, yes!" He looked slowly round the hall, at the different doors,
+and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony. "We both seem to have been
+right, Mr. Gillingham. So we don't get much farther."
+
+"No." He gave a shrug. "I just wondered, you know. I thought it was
+worth mentioning."
+
+"Oh, quite. Not that you would have convinced me, you know. Just as
+Elsie's evidence doesn't convince me."
+
+"Elsie?" said Bill excitedly. Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+
+"One of the housemaids," explained Cayley. "You didn't hear what she
+told the Inspector? Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that class make
+things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine."
+
+"What was it?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door that
+afternoon.
+
+"You were in the library then, of course," said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other. "She might have gone through the hall without
+your hearing."
+
+"Oh, I've no doubt she was there, and heard voices. Perhaps heard those
+very words. But--" He broke off, and then added impatiently, "It was
+accidental. I know it was accidental. What's the good of talking as if
+Mark was a murderer?" Dinner was announced at that moment, and as they
+went in, he added, "What's the good of talking about it at all, if it
+comes to that?"
+
+"What, indeed?" said Antony, and to Bill's great disappointment they
+talked of books and politics during the meal.
+
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were
+alight. He had business to attend to, as was natural. Bill would look
+after his friend. Bill was only too willing. He offered to beat
+Antony at billiards, to play him at piquet, to show him the garden by
+moonlight, or indeed to do anything else with him that he required.
+
+"Thank the Lord you're here," he said piously. "I couldn't have stood it
+alone."
+
+"Let's go outside," suggested Antony. "It's quite warm. Somewhere where
+we can sit down, right away from the house. I want to talk to you."
+
+"Good man. What about the bowling-green?"
+
+"Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren't you? Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?"
+
+"Rather. The ideal place. You'll see."
+
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left.
+Coming from Waldheim, Antony had approached the house that afternoon
+from the other side. The way they were going now would take them out
+at the opposite end of the park, on the high road to Stanton, a country
+town some three miles away. They passed by a gate and a gardener's
+lodge, which marked the limit of what auctioneers like to call "the
+ornamental grounds of the estate," and then the open park was before
+them.
+
+"Sure we haven't missed it?" said Antony. The park lay quietly in the
+moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way ahead
+of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+
+"Rum, isn't it?" said Bill. "An absurd place for a bowling green, but I
+suppose it was always here."
+
+"Yes, but always where? It's short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but--Hallo!"
+
+They had come to the place. The road bent round to the right, but they
+kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and there
+in front of them was the green. A dry ditch, ten feet wide and six
+feet deep, surrounded it, except in the one place where the path went
+forward. Two or three grass steps led down to the green, on which there
+was a long wooden beach for the benefit of spectators.
+
+"Yes, it hides itself very nicely," said Antony. "Where do you keep the
+bowls?"
+
+"In a sort of summer house place. Round here."
+
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it--a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+
+"H'm. Jolly view."
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"Nobody sits there. It's just for keeping things out of the rain."
+
+They finished their circuit of the green "Just in case anybody's in the
+ditch," said Antony and then sat down on the bench.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, "We are alone. Fire ahead."
+
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little. Then he took his pipe out of
+his mouth and turned to his friend.
+
+"Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?" he asked.
+
+"Watson?"
+
+"Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one. Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me
+chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your own
+two or three days after I have made them myself--all that kind of thing?
+Because it all helps."
+
+"My dear Tony," said Bill delightedly, "need you ask?" Antony said
+nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, "I perceive from the
+strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert. Holmes, you astonish me. Tut, tut, you know my methods. Where
+is the tobacco? The tobacco is in the Persian slipper. Can I leave my
+practice for a week? I can."
+
+Antony smiled and went on smoking. After waiting hopefully for a minute
+or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+
+"Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything. Also whom do you suspect?"
+
+Antony began to talk.
+
+"Do you remember," he said, "one of Holmes's little scores over Watson
+about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging? Poor old
+Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he had never
+thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them as a matter of
+course, and knew that there were seventeen. And that was supposed to
+be the difference between observation and non-observation. Watson was
+crushed again, and Holmes appeared to him more amazing than ever. Now,
+it always seemed to me that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and
+Watson the sensible person. What on earth is the point of keeping in
+your head an unnecessary fact like that? If you really want to know
+at any time the number of steps to your lodging, you can ring up your
+landlady and ask her. I've been up and down the steps of the club a
+thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how many
+steps there are I couldn't do it. Could you?"
+
+"I certainly couldn't," said Bill.
+
+"But if you really wanted to know," said Antony casually, with a sudden
+change of voice, "I could find out for you without even bothering to
+ring up the hall-porter."
+
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps, but
+he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know how many they were.
+
+"Right," said Antony. "I'll find out."
+
+He closed his eyes.
+
+"I'm walking up St. James' Street," he said slowly. "Now I've come to the
+club and I'm going past the smoking-room--windows-one-two-three-four.
+Now I'm at the steps. I turn in and begin going up them.
+One-two-three-four-five-six, then a broad step; six-seven-eight-nine,
+another broad step; nine-ten-eleven. Eleven--I'm inside. Good morning,
+Rogers. Fine day again." With a little start he opened his eyes and came
+back again to his present surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile.
+"Eleven," he said. "Count them the next time you're there. Eleven and
+now I hope I shall forget it again."
+
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+
+"That's rather hot," he said. "Expound."
+
+"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual eye, or
+something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an uncanny habit
+of recording things unconsciously. You know that game where you look at
+a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then turn away and
+try to make a list of them. It means a devil of a lot of concentration
+for the ordinary person, if he wants to get his list complete, but in
+some odd way I manage to do it without concentration at all. I mean that
+my eyes seem to do it without the brain consciously taking any part. I
+could look at the tray, for instance, and talk to you about golf at the
+same time, and still get my list right."
+
+"I should think that's rather a useful gift for an amateur detective.
+You ought to have gone into the profession before."
+
+"Well, it is rather useful. It's rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger. Let's surprise Cayley with it, shall we?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, let's ask him--" Antony stopped and looked at Bill comically,
+"let's ask him what he's going to do with the key of the office."
+
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+
+"Key of the office?" he said vaguely. "You don't mean--Tony! What do you
+mean? Good God! do you mean that Cayley--But what about Mark?"
+
+"I don't know where Mark is--that's another thing I want to know--but
+I'm quite certain that he hasn't got the key of the office with him.
+Because Cayley's got it."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"I say," he said, almost pleadingly, "don't tell me that you can see
+into people's pockets and all that sort of thing as well."
+
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"You're the perfect Watson, Bill. You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn't to explain till the last chapter, but I
+always think that that's so unfair. So here goes. Of course, I don't
+really know that he's got it, but I do know that he had it. I know that
+when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked the door and put
+the key in his pocket."
+
+"You mean you saw him at the time, but that you've only just remembered
+it--reconstructed it in the way you were explaining just now?"
+
+"No. I didn't see him. But I did see something. I saw the key of the
+billiard-room."
+
+"Where?
+
+"Outside the billiard-room door."
+
+"Outside? But it was inside when we looked just now."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Who put it there?"
+
+"Obviously Cayley."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Let's go back to this afternoon. I don't remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit.
+Something like that, I daresay. Well, when I was sitting out by myself
+on that seat just before you came along, I went over the whole scene in
+my mind, and I suddenly saw the billiard-room key there outside. And I
+began to wonder if the office-key had been outside too. When Cayley came
+up, I told you my idea and you were both interested. But Cayley was just
+a shade too interested. I daresay you didn't notice it, but he was."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn't really
+prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other keys were,
+Mark might have locked his own private room from the inside sometimes.
+But I piled it on, and pretended that it was enormously important, and
+quite altered the case altogether, and having got Cayley thoroughly
+anxious about it, I told him that we should be well out of the way for
+the next hour or so, and that he would be alone in the house to do what
+he liked about it. And, as I expected, he couldn't resist it. He altered
+the keys and gave himself away entirely."
+
+"But the library key was still outside. Why didn't he alter that?"
+
+"Because he's a clever devil. For one thing, the Inspector had been
+in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already. And for
+another--" Antony hesitated.
+
+"What?" said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+
+"It's only guesswork. But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset about
+the key business. He suddenly realized that he had been careless, and
+he hadn't got time to think it all over. So he didn't want to commit
+himself definitely to the statement that the key was either outside or
+inside. He wanted to leave it vague. It was safest that way."
+
+"I see," said Bill slowly.
+
+But his mind was elsewhere. He was wondering suddenly about Cayley.
+Cayley was just an ordinary man--like himself. Bill had had little jokes
+with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at joking.
+Bill had helped him to sausages, played tennis with him, borrowed his
+tobacco, lent him a putter.... and here was Antony saying that he was
+what? Well, not an ordinary man, anyway. A man with a secret. Perhaps
+a murderer. No, not a murderer; not Cayley. That was rot, anyway. Why,
+they had played tennis together.
+
+"Now then, Watson," said Antony suddenly. "It's time you said
+something."
+
+"I say, Tony, do you really mean it?"
+
+"Mean what?"
+
+"About Cayley."
+
+"I mean what I said, Bill. No more."
+
+"Well, what does it amount to?"
+
+"Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and that
+Cayley knows exactly how he died. That's all. It doesn't follow that
+Cayley killed him."
+
+"No. No, of course it doesn't." Bill gave a sigh of relief. "He's just
+shielding Mark, what?"
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
+
+"It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let him down
+lightly. But then I'm not, you see."
+
+"Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
+
+"Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to give you
+a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember the key is on the outside
+of the door to start with."
+
+"Yes; well, I don't mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and they
+quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley hears
+the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the door,
+puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the door,
+and that he can't get in. How's that?"
+
+"Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
+other way round?"
+
+"Oh!" said Bill, rather upset. "Yes." He thought for a moment, "All
+right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen Robert on
+the ground."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, there you are."
+
+"And what does he say to Mark? That it's a fine afternoon; and could he
+lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what's happened?"
+
+"Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
+reluctantly.
+
+"And what does Mark say?"
+
+"Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle."
+
+"Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill? Encouraging him to do
+the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do--confess his guilt
+by running away!"
+
+"No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?" Bill thought again. "Well,"
+he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd murdered his
+brother?"
+
+"That's better, Bill. Don't be afraid of getting away from the accident
+idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley
+that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
+committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to
+escape. Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as I
+said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic murder--a
+murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck? Secondly, if
+Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway,
+now), wouldn't it be simpler for him to say that he was in the office
+all the time, and that Robert's death was accidental?"
+
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+
+"Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said. "Now let's have
+yours."
+
+Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
+different.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.
+
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+
+"You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill. "What is it?"
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever as
+this."
+
+"Oh, you can't take me in!"
+
+"No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
+to me--"
+
+"Oh, that!" Bill was profoundly disappointed. "What on earth has the
+ghost got to do with it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Antony apologetically. "I don't know what anything
+has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You shouldn't have brought
+me here if you hadn't wanted me to think about the ghost. This is where
+she appeared, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes." Bill was distinctly short about it.
+
+"How?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I said, 'How?'"
+
+"How? How do ghosts appear? I don't know. They just appear."
+
+"Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
+
+"Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one--Lady Anne, you know--was supposed to walk."
+
+"Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did
+Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of bare park?"
+
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+
+"I--I don't know," he stammered. "We never thought of that."
+
+"You would have seen her long before, wouldn't you, if she had come the
+way we came?"
+
+"Of course we should."
+
+"And that would have spoilt it rather. You would have had time to
+recognize her walk."
+
+Bill was interested now.
+
+"That's rather funny, you know, Tony. We none of us thought of that."
+
+"You're sure she didn't come across the park when none of you were
+looking?"
+
+"Quite. Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we kept
+looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be playing with
+our backs to her."
+
+"You and Miss Calladine were playing together?"
+
+"I say, however do you know that?"
+
+"Brilliant deductive reasoning. Well, then you suddenly saw her?"
+
+"Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn." He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+
+"She couldn't have been hiding in the ditch? Do you call it the moat, by
+the way?"
+
+"Mark does. We don't among ourselves. No, she couldn't. Betty and I
+were here before the others, and walked round a bit. We should have seen
+her."
+
+"Then she must have been hiding in the shed. Or do you call it the
+summer-house?"
+
+"We had to go there for the bowls, of course. She couldn't have been
+there."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It's dashed funny," said Bill, after an interval for thought. "But it
+doesn't matter, does it? It has nothing to do with Robert."
+
+"Hasn't it?"
+
+"I say, has it?" said Bill, getting excited again.
+
+"I don't know. We don't know what has, or what hasn't. But it has
+got something to do with Miss Norris. And Miss Norris--" He broke off
+suddenly.
+
+"What about her?"
+
+"Well, you're all in it in a kind of way. And if something unaccountable
+happens to one of you a day or two before something unaccountable
+happens to the whole house, one is well, interested." It was a good
+enough reason, but it wasn't the reason he had been on the point of
+giving.
+
+"I see. Well?"
+
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+
+"Well then, let's find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came."
+
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+
+"By Jove! Do you mean there's a secret passage?"
+
+"A secluded passage, anyway. There must be."
+
+"I say, what fun! I love secret passages. Good Lord, and this afternoon
+I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant! What a life! Secret
+passages!"
+
+They made their way down into the ditch. If an opening was to be found
+which led to the house, it would probably be on the house side of the
+green, and on the outside of the ditch. The most obvious place at which
+to begin the search was the shed where the bowls were kept. It was a
+tidy place as anything in Mark's establishment would be. There were two
+boxes of croquet things, one of them with the lid open, as if the
+balls and mallets and hoops (neatly enough put away, though) had been
+recently used; a box of bowls, a small lawn-mower, a roller and so
+forth. A seat ran along the back of it, whereon the bowls-players could
+sit when it rained.
+
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+
+"This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn't sound very hollow,
+does it?"
+
+"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round with
+bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too tall to stand
+upright in the shed.
+
+"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would save
+us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark didn't
+let you play croquet on his bowling-green?" He pointed to the croquet
+things.
+
+"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather keen
+about it. There's really nowhere else to play. Personally I hate the
+game. He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked calling it
+the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love you on Mark," he said. "You're priceless."
+
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then
+suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment he stood
+listening, with his head on one side, holding up a finger to bid Bill
+listen too.
+
+"What is it?" whispered Bill.
+
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very quietly he
+went down on his knees, and listened again. Then he put his ear to the
+floor. He got up and dusted himself quickly, walked across to Bill and
+whispered in his ear:
+
+"Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up."
+
+Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and stepped
+firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to himself. He took
+the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on the floor, said, "Oh,
+Lord!" and went on:
+
+"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
+
+"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
+
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+
+"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
+
+"Then what do you want to do?"
+
+"Talk."
+
+"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"There's a seat on the lawn--I saw it. Let's bring these things along in
+case we want to play, after all."
+
+"Right-o!" said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out his
+pipe.
+
+"Got a match?" he said loudly.
+
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, "There'll be somebody
+listening to us. You take the Cayley view," and then went on in his
+ordinary voice, "I don't think much of your matches, Bill," and struck
+another. They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+
+"What a heavenly night!" said Antony.
+
+"Ripping."
+
+"I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now."
+
+"It's a rum business."
+
+"You agree with Cayley that it was an accident?"
+
+"Yes. You see, I know Mark."
+
+"H'm." Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began to write
+on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked. He said that he thought Mark
+had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley knew, or anyhow
+guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a chance of getting away.
+
+"Mind you, I think he's right. I think it's what any of us would do. I
+shan't give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or two little
+things which make me think that Mark really did shoot his brother--I mean
+other than accidentally."
+
+"Murdered him?"
+
+"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it's not my
+business."
+
+"But why do you think so? Because of the keys?"
+
+"Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of mine,
+Wasn't it? And it would have been rather a score for me if they had all
+been outside."
+
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill. In
+the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily be read:
+
+"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND AS
+IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING."
+
+"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read, "but
+you'll see that I'm right."
+
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and Betty and
+all the other things which had made up his world lately. This was the
+real thing. This was life. "Well," he began deliberately, "the whole
+point is that I know Mark. Now, Mark--"
+
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into the
+ditch. His intention was to crawl round it until the shed came in sight.
+The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be underneath the shed;
+probably there was a trap-door of some kind in the floor. Whoever it was
+would have heard their voices, and would probably think it worth while
+to listen to what they were saying. He might do this merely by opening
+the door a little without showing himself, in which case Antony would
+have found the entrance to the passage without any trouble to himself.
+But when Bill turned his head and talked over the back of the seat, it
+was probable that the listener would find it necessary to put his head
+outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able to discover
+who it was. Moreover, if he should venture out of his hiding-place
+altogether and peep at them over the top of the bank, the fact that Bill
+was talking over the back of the seat would mislead the watcher into
+thinking that Antony was still there, sitting on the grass, no doubt,
+behind the seat, swinging his legs over the side of the ditch.
+
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and then
+went even more carefully along the width of it to the second corner.
+He could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his knowledge of Mark's
+character that this, that and the other must have happened, and he
+smiled appreciatively to himself. Bill was a great conspirator worth a
+hundred Watsons. As he approached the second corner he slowed down, and
+did the last few yards on hands and knees. Then, lying at full length,
+inch by inch his head went round the corner.
+
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of
+the ditch. From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it.
+Everything seemed to be as they left it. The bowls-box, the lawn-mower,
+the roller, the open croquet-box, the--
+
+"By Jove!" said Antony to himself, "that's neat."
+
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too. Bill was turning round
+now; his voice became more difficult to hear. "You see what I mean," he
+was saying. "If Cayley--"
+
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley's black head.
+
+Antony wanted to shout his applause. It was neat, devilish neat. For a
+moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of croquet-ball
+which had appeared so dramatically out of the box, and then reluctantly
+wriggled himself back. There was nothing to be gained by staying there,
+and a good deal to be lost, for Bill showed signs of running down. As
+quickly as he could Antony hurried round the ditch and took up his place
+at the back of the seat. Then he stood up with a yawn, stretched himself
+and said carelessly, "Well, don't worry yourself about it, Bill, old
+man. I daresay you're right. You know Mark, and I don't; and that's the
+difference. Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?"
+
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, "Oh, just
+let's have one game, shall we?"
+
+"Right you are," said Antony.
+
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very
+seriously. Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing
+but bowls. He played with great deliberation for ten minutes, and then
+announced that he was going to bed. Bill looked at him anxiously.
+
+"It's all right," laughed Antony. "You can talk if you want to. Just
+let's put 'em away first, though."
+
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting the
+bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box. As he
+expected, it was locked.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, as they were walking back to the house again,
+"I'm simply bursting to know. Who was it?"
+
+"Cayley."
+
+"Good Lord! Where?"
+
+"Inside one of the croquet-boxes."
+
+"Don't be an ass."
+
+"It's quite true, Bill." He told the other what he had seen.
+
+"But aren't we going to have a look at it?" asked Bill, in great
+disappointment. "I'm longing to explore. Aren't you?"
+
+"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow. We shall see Cayley coming along
+this way directly. Besides, I want to get in from the other end, if I
+can. I doubt very much if we can do it this end without giving ourselves
+away. Look, there's Cayley."
+
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them. When they were a
+little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+
+"I wondered where you were," he said, as he got up to them. "I rather
+thought you might be along this way. What about bed?"
+
+"Bed it is," said Antony.
+
+"We've been playing bowls," added Bill, "and talking, and--and playing
+bowls. Ripping night, isn't it?"
+
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to the
+house, to Antony. He wanted to think. There seemed to be no doubt now
+that Cayley was a villain. Bill had never been familiar with a villain
+before. It didn't seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking
+rather a mean advantage of his friends. Lot of funny people there were
+in the world--funny people with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time he
+had met him in a tobacconist's shop. Anybody would have thought he was
+a tobacconist's assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought that
+Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person. And Mark. Dash it! one
+could never be sure of anybody. Now, Robert was different. Everybody had
+always said that Robert was a shady fellow.
+
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it? What had Miss
+Norris got to do with it? This was a question which Antony had already
+asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him now that he had found
+the answer. As he lay in bed that night he reassembled his ideas, and
+looked at them in the new light which the events of the evening threw
+upon the dark corners in his brain.
+
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his
+guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered. He would want this for
+their own sake as well as for his. But he had been a little too quick
+about suggesting it, and about seeing the suggestion carried out. They
+had been bustled off as soon as they could be packed. The suggestion
+that they were in his hands, to go or stay as he wished, could have been
+left safely to them. As it was, they had been given no alternative,
+and Miss Norris, who had proposed to catch an after-dinner train at the
+junction, in the obvious hope that she might have in this way a
+dramatic cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed detective, was
+encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the earlier train
+with the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the tragedy which had
+suddenly befallen the house, ought to have been equally indifferent to
+her presence or absence. But he was not; and Antony assumed from this
+that Cayley was very much alive to the necessity for her absence.
+
+Why?
+
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand. But the fact that
+it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for this reason
+that he had followed up so alertly Bill's casual mention of her in
+connection with the dressing-up business. He felt that he wanted to know
+a little more about Miss Norris and the part she had played in the Red
+House circle. By sheer luck, as it seemed to him, he had stumbled on the
+answer to his question.
+
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert's
+death. Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic
+appearance as the ghost. Possibly she had discovered it for herself;
+possibly Mark had revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing
+that she would make so unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley,
+having been let into the joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how she
+could make her appearance on the bowling-green even more mysterious and
+supernatural. One way or another, she knew about the secret passage. So
+she must be hurried away.
+
+Why? Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent
+mention of it. And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+
+Why, again? Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge of
+its existence, might provide a clue.
+
+"I wonder if Mark's hiding there," thought Antony; and he went to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+
+
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and
+found that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters
+and nodded.
+
+"Any word of Mr. Ablett--of Mark?" said Antony, as he poured out his
+coffee.
+
+"No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon."
+
+"Oh! Is there a lake?"
+
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley's face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+
+"Well, it's really a pond," he said, "but it was called 'the lake.'"
+
+"By Mark," thought Antony. Aloud he said, "What do they expect to find?"
+
+"They think that Mark--" He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn't get away? And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," said Cayley slowly.
+
+"I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for
+his money. After all, he had a revolver. If he was determined not to
+be taken alive, he could always have prevented that. Couldn't he have
+caught a train to London before the police knew anything about it?"
+
+"He might just have managed it. There was a train. They would have
+noticed him at Waldheim, of course, but he might have managed it at
+Stanton. He's not so well-known there, naturally. The inspector has been
+inquiring. Nobody seems to have seen him."
+
+"There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on. There was
+never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who swear to
+have seen him at a dozen different places at the same time."
+
+Cayley smiled.
+
+"Yes. That's true. Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first." He added
+dryly, "From what I've read of detective stories, inspectors always do
+want to drag the pond first."
+
+"Is it deep?"
+
+"Quite deep enough," said Cayley as he got up. On his way to the door he
+stopped, and looked at Antony. "I'm so sorry that we're keeping you here
+like this, but it will only be until to-morrow. The inquest is to-morrow
+afternoon. Do amuse yourself how you like till then. Beverley will look
+after you."
+
+"Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right."
+
+Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors
+liked dragging ponds, but the question was, did Cayleys like having them
+dragged? Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He certainly
+did not seem to be anxious, but he could hide his feelings very easily
+beneath that heavy, solid face, and it was not often that the real
+Cayley peeped out. Just a little too eager once or twice, perhaps, but
+there was nothing to be learnt from it this morning. Perhaps he knew
+that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all, inspectors were
+always dragging ponds.
+
+Bill came in noisily.
+
+Bill's face was an open book. Excitement was written all over it.
+
+"Well," he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal,
+"what are we going to do this morning?"
+
+"Not talk so loudly, for one thing," said Antony. Bill looked about
+him apprehensively. Was Cayley under the table, for example? After last
+night one never knew.
+
+"Is er--" He raised his eyebrows.
+
+"No. But one doesn't want to shout. One should modulate the voice, my
+dear William, while breathing gently from the hips. Thus one avoids
+those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret. In other words,
+pass the toast."
+
+"You seem bright this morning."
+
+"I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, 'Were it not that I
+have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee. Fain
+would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little hills.
+But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch tarries
+outside with his shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will attend
+thee anon. Farewell, a long farewell to all--thy grape-nuts.' He then
+left up-centre. Enter W. Beverley, R."
+
+"Are you often like this at breakfast?"
+
+"Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. 'Exit W. Beverley, L."
+
+"It's a touch of the sun, I suppose," said Bill, shaking his head sadly.
+
+"It's the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do
+you know anything about Orion's Belt, for instance? And why isn't there
+a star called Beverley's Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Re-enter
+W. Beverley through trap-door."
+
+"Talking about trap-doors--"
+
+"Don't," said Antony, getting up. "Some talk of Alexander and some of
+Hercules, but nobody talks about--what's the Latin for trap-door?--Mensa
+a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr. Beverley,"--and he
+slapped him heartily on the back as he went past him--"I shall see you
+later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so far you have not made
+me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing when you have finished
+your breakfast. But don't hurry. Let the upper mandibles have time to
+do the work." With those words Mr. Gillingham then left the spacious
+apartment.
+
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not
+know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind him;
+not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within sight
+of Antony, who was not going to take any risks. So he went on with his
+breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if
+he had dreamed only of the amazing things which had happened the day
+before.
+
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by
+a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he
+remembered.
+
+"Is it Elsie?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it was
+that she had achieved such notoriety.
+
+"It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn't it? I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, sir."
+
+"'It's my turn now. You wait,'" murmured Antony to himself.
+
+"Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, that's what I heard, sir. Truly."
+
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+"Yes. I wonder. I wonder why."
+
+"Why what, sir?"
+
+"Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?"
+
+Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about
+it.
+
+"Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she
+stopped him.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?"
+
+"Oh, yes. To-morrow, I think."
+
+"Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?"
+
+"Of course. There's nothing to be frightened of."
+
+"I did hear it, sir. Truly."
+
+"Why, of course you did. Who says you didn't?"
+
+"Some of the others, sir, Mrs. Stevens and all."
+
+"Oh, that's just because they're jealous," said Antony with a smile.
+
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once
+the immense importance of her evidence. To the Inspector no doubt it
+had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have adopted
+something of a threatening attitude towards his brother. To Antony it
+had much more significance. It was the only trustworthy evidence that
+Mark had been in the office at all that afternoon.
+
+For who saw Mark go into the office? Only Cayley. And if Cayley had been
+hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be hiding the truth
+about Mark's entry into the office? Obviously all Cayley's evidence went
+for nothing. Some of it no doubt was true; but he was giving it, both
+truth and falsehood, with a purpose. What the purpose was Antony did not
+know as yet; to shield Mark, to shield himself, even to betray
+Mark--it might be any of these. But since his evidence was given for his own
+ends, it was impossible that it could be treated as the evidence of
+an impartial and trustworthy onlooker. Such, for instance, as Elsie
+appeared to be.
+
+Elsie's evidence, however, seemed to settle the point. Mark had gone
+into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both talking;
+and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert.... and the
+Inspector was going to drag the pond.
+
+But certainly Elsie's evidence did not prove anything more than the mere
+presence of Mark in the room. "It's my turn now; you wait." That was not
+an immediate threat;--it was a threat for the future. If Mark had shot
+his brother immediately afterwards it must have been an accident, the
+result of a struggle, say, provoked by that "nasty-like" tone of voice.
+Nobody would say "You wait" to a man who was just going to be shot. "You
+wait" meant "You wait, and see what's going to happen to you later on."
+The owner of the Red House had had enough of his brother's sponging,
+his brother's blackmail; now it was Mark's turn to get a bit of his own
+back. Let Robert just wait a bit, and he would see. The conversation
+which Elsie had overheard might have meant something like this. It
+couldn't have meant murder. Anyway not murder of Robert by Mark.
+
+"It's a funny business," thought Antony. "The one obvious solution is so
+easy and yet so wrong. And I've got a hundred things in my head, and I
+can't fit them together. And this afternoon will make a hundred and one.
+I mustn't forget this afternoon."
+
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll. Bill was only too
+ready. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.
+
+"I don't mind much. Show me the park."
+
+"Righto."
+
+They walked out together.
+
+"Watson, old man," said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, "you really mustn't talk so loudly indoors. There was a gentleman
+outside, just behind you, all the time."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Bill, going pink. "I'm awfully sorry. So that's why
+you were talking such rot."
+
+"Partly, yes. And partly because I do feel rather bright this morning.
+We're going to have a busy day."
+
+"Are we really? What are we going to do?"
+
+"They're going to drag the pond--beg its pardon, the lake. Where is the
+lake?"
+
+"We're on the way to it now, if you'd like to see it."
+
+"We may as well look at it. Do you haunt the lake much in the ordinary
+way?"
+
+"Oh, no, rather not. There's nothing to do there."
+
+"You can't bathe?"
+
+"Well, I shouldn't care to. Too dirty."
+
+"I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn't it? The way to the
+village?"
+
+"Yes. We go off a bit to the right directly. What are they dragging it
+for?"
+
+"Mark."
+
+"Oh, rot," said Bill uneasily. He was silent for a little, and then,
+forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance of the
+exciting times they were having, said eagerly, "I say, when are we going
+to look for that passage?"
+
+"We can't do very much while Cayley's in the house."
+
+"What about this afternoon when they're dragging the pond? He's sure to
+be there."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"There's something I must do this afternoon," he said. "Of course we
+might have time for both."
+
+"Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?"
+
+"Well, I think he ought to be."
+
+"I say, is it anything rather exciting?"
+
+"I don't know. It might be rather interesting. I daresay I could do it
+at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o'clock, somehow.
+I've been specially keeping it back for then."
+
+"I say, what fun! You do want me, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do. Only, Bill don't talk about things inside the house,
+unless I begin. There's a good Watson."
+
+"I won't. I swear I won't."
+
+They had come to the pond--Mark's lake--and they walked silently round
+it. When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the grass, and
+relit his pipe. Bill followed his example.
+
+"Well, Mark isn't there," said Antony.
+
+"No," said Bill. "At least, I don't quite see why you know he isn't."
+
+"It isn't 'knowing,' it's 'guessing,'" said Antony rapidly. "It's much
+easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark had wanted
+to shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not letting the body be
+found, he'd have put big stones in his pockets, and the only big stones
+are near the water's edge, and they would have left marks, and they
+haven't, and therefore he didn't, and oh, bother the pond; that can wait
+till this afternoon. Bill, where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes. You see, my idea is this."
+
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage was
+concerned in some way with the secret of Robert's death, and went on:
+
+"My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago--the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet. The passage came out into
+the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley's idea to put a
+croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely. You
+know, when once you've discovered a secret yourself, it always seems
+as if it must be so obvious to everybody else. I can imagine that Mark
+loved having this little secret all to himself and to Cayley, of course,
+but Cayley wouldn't count and they must have had great fun fixing it up,
+and making it more difficult for other people to find out. Well then,
+when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it away. Probably
+he told her that she could never get down to the bowling-green without
+being discovered, and then perhaps showed that he knew there was one way
+in which she could do it, and she wormed the secret out of him somehow."
+
+"But this was two or three days before Robert turned up."
+
+"Exactly. I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about the
+passage in the first place. It was just a little private bit of romance
+and adventure for Mark, three days ago. He didn't even know that Robert
+was coming. But somehow the passage has been used since, in connection
+with Robert. Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps he's hiding there
+now. And if so, then the only person who could give him away was Miss
+Norris. And she of course would only do it innocently not knowing that
+the passage had anything to do with it."
+
+"So it was safer to have her out of the way?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about this end of it?
+We can always get in at the bowling-green end."
+
+"I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly. It will mean
+breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we've done it. You
+see, Bill, if we don't find anything out for ourselves in the next day
+or two, we've got to tell the police what we have found out, and then
+they can explore the passage for themselves. But I don't want to do that
+yet."
+
+"Rather not."
+
+"So we've got to carry on secretly for a bit. It's the only way." He
+smiled and added, "And it's much more fun."
+
+"Rather!" Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Very well. Where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+
+
+"There's one thing, which we have got to realize at once," said Antony,
+"and that is that if we don't find it easily, we shan't find it at all."
+
+"You mean that we shan't have time?"
+
+"Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a
+lazy person like me."
+
+"But it makes it much harder, if we can't really look properly."
+
+"Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley's bedroom. Well, now we know that it
+doesn't."
+
+"We don't know anything of the sort," protested Bill.
+
+"We--know for the purposes of our search. Obviously we can't go
+tailing into Cayley's bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and obviously,
+therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must assume that it
+doesn't begin there."
+
+"Oh, I see." Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully. "Anyhow, it
+wouldn't begin on an upstairs floor, would it?"
+
+"Probably not. Well, we're getting on."
+
+"You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house," said
+Bill, after more thought. "We can't go there."
+
+"Right. And the cellars, if there are any."
+
+"Well, that doesn't leave us much."
+
+"No. Of course it's only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it, but
+what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of the few
+places in which we can look safely."
+
+"All it amounts to," said Bill, "is the living-rooms
+downstairs--dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office
+rooms."
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+"Well, the office is the most likely, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes. Except for one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Well, it's on the wrong side of the house. One would expect the passage
+to start from the nearest place to which it is going. Why make it longer
+by going under the house first?"
+
+"Yes, that's true. Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?"
+
+"Yes. And the library for choice. I mean for our choice. There are
+always servants going into dining-rooms. We shouldn't have much of a
+chance of exploring properly in there. Besides, there's another thing to
+remember. Mark has kept this a secret for a year. Could he have kept
+it a secret in the dining-room? Could Miss Norris have got into the
+dining-room and used the secret door just after dinner without being
+seen? It would have been much too risky."
+
+Bill got up eagerly.
+
+"Come along," he said, "let's try the library. If Cayley comes in, we
+can always pretend we're choosing a book."
+
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house with
+him.
+
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages. Antony could
+never resist another person's bookshelves. As soon as he went into the
+room, he found himself wandering round it to see what books the owner
+read, or (more likely) did not read, but kept for the air which they
+lent to the house. Mark had prided himself on his library. It was a
+mixed collection of books. Books which he had inherited both from his
+father and from his patron; books which he had bought because he was
+interested in them or, if not in them, in the authors to whom he wished
+to lend his patronage; books which he had ordered in beautifully bound
+editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves, lending a
+noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture should ever
+be without them; old editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap
+books, a library in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure
+of finding something to suit him.
+
+"And which is your particular fancy, Bill?" said Antony, looking from
+one shelf to another. "Or are you always playing billiards?"
+
+"I have a look at 'Badminton' sometimes," said Bill. "It's over in that
+corner there." He waved a hand.
+
+"Over here?" said Antony, going to it.
+
+"Yes." He corrected himself suddenly.--"Oh, no, it's not. It's over
+there on the right now. Mark had a grand re-arrangement of his library
+about a year ago. It took him more than a week, he told us. He's got
+such a frightful lot, hasn't he?"
+
+"Now that's very interesting," said Antony, and he sat down and filled
+his pipe again.
+
+There was indeed a "frightful lot" of books. The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only where
+the door and the two windows insisted on living their own life, even
+though an illiterate one. To Bill it seemed the most hopeless room of
+any in which to look for a secret opening.
+
+"We shall have to take every blessed book down," he said, "before we can
+be certain that we haven't missed it."
+
+"Anyway," said Antony, "if we take them down one at a time, nobody
+can suspect us of sinister designs. After all, what does one go into a
+library for, except to take books down?"
+
+"But there's such a frightful lot."
+
+Antony's pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+
+"Well, let's have a look," he said, "and see if they are so very
+frightful. Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.' You often read that, you
+say?"
+
+"If I read anything."
+
+"Yes." He looked down and up the shelf. "Sport and Travel chiefly. I
+like books of travel, don't you?"
+
+"They're pretty dull as a rule."
+
+"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony,
+reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. "The Drama. The
+Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well
+remark, many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson--I like
+reading plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do
+are usually very keen. Let us pass on."
+
+"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
+
+"We haven't. That's why we aren't wasting any. Poetry. Who reads poetry
+nowadays? Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise Lost'?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The Excursion'
+aloud to you?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, Betty--Miss Calladine--happens to be jolly keen on
+--what's the beggar's name?"
+
+"Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on."
+
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+
+"Biography. Oh, lots of it. I love biographies. Are you a member of the
+Johnson Club? I bet Mark is. 'Memories of Many Courts'--I'm sure Mrs.
+Calladine reads that. Anyway, biographies are just as interesting as
+most novels, so why linger? We pass on." He went to the next shelf, and
+then gave a sudden whistle. "Hallo, hallo!"
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill rather peevishly.
+
+"Stand back there. Keep the crowd back, Bill. We are getting amongst it.
+Sermons, as I live. Sermons. Was Mark's father a clergyman, or does Mark
+take to them naturally?"
+
+"His father was a parson, I believe. Oh, yes, I know he was."
+
+"Ah, then these are Father's books. 'Half-Hours with the Infinite'--I
+must order that from the library when I get back. 'The Lost Sheep,'
+'Jones on the Trinity,' 'The Epistles of St. Paul Explained.' Oh, Bill,
+we're amongst it. 'The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore
+Ussher'--hal-LO!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"William, I am inspired. Stand by." He took down the Reverend Theodore
+Ussher's classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for a moment, and
+then gave it to Bill.
+
+"Here, hold Ussher for a bit."
+
+Bill took the book obediently.
+
+"No, give it me back. Just go out into the hall, and see if you can hear
+Cayley anywhere. Say 'Hallo' loudly, if you do."
+
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+
+"It's all right."
+
+"Good." He took the book out of its shelf again. "Now then, you can hold
+Ussher. Hold him in the left hand so. With the right or dexter hand,
+grasp this shelf firmly so. Now, when I say 'Pull,' pull gradually. Got
+that?"
+
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+
+"Good." Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout Ussher, and
+fingered the back of the shelf. "Pull," he said.
+
+Bill pulled.
+
+"Now just go on pulling like that. I shall get it directly. Not hard,
+you know, but just keeping up the strain."
+
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom, swung
+gently open towards them.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill's fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa and
+deposited him in it. Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+
+"Child's play, Watson," he said; "child's play."
+
+"How on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+
+"You don't really want it explained," he said, smacking him on the knee;
+"you're just being Watsonish. It's very nice of you, of course, and I
+appreciate it."
+
+"No, but really, Tony."
+
+"Oh, my dear Bill!" He smoked silently for a little, and then went on,
+"It's what I was saying just now--a secret is a secret until you have
+discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder why
+everybody else isn't discovering it, and how it could ever have been a
+secret at all. This passage has been here for years, with an opening at
+one end into the library, and at the other end into the shed. Then Mark
+discovered it, and immediately he felt that everybody else must discover
+it. So he made the shed end more difficult by putting the croquet-box
+there, and this end more difficult by--" he stopped and looked at the
+other "by what, Bill?"
+
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Obviously by re-arranging his books. He happened to take out 'The Life
+of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat,' or whatever it was, and by the
+merest chance discovered the secret. Naturally he felt that everybody
+else would be taking down 'The Life of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a
+Boat.' Naturally he felt that the secret would be safer if nobody ever
+interfered with that shelf at all. When you said that the books had been
+re-arranged a year ago--just about the time the croquet-box came into
+existence--of course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the dullest
+books I could find, the books nobody ever read. Obviously the collection
+of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we wanted."
+
+"Yes, I see. But why were you so certain of the particular place?"
+
+"Well, he had to mark the particular place by some book. I thought
+that the joke of putting 'The Narrow Way' just over the entrance to the
+passage might appeal to him. Apparently it did."
+
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times. "Yes, that's very
+neat," he said. "You're a clever devil, Tony."
+
+Tony laughed.
+
+"You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful."
+
+"Well, come on, then," said Bill, and he got up, and held out a hand.
+
+"Come on where?"
+
+"To explore the passage, of course."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Why ever not?"
+
+"Well, what do you expect to find there?"
+
+"I don't know. But you seemed to think that we might find something that
+would help."
+
+"Suppose we find Mark?" said Antony quietly.
+
+"I say, do you really think he's there?"
+
+"Suppose he is?"
+
+"Well, then, there we are."
+
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his pipe,
+and turned back to Bill. He looked at him gravely without speaking.
+
+"What are you going to say to him?" he said at last.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?"
+
+"I--I--well, of course, I--" began Bill, stammering, and then ended
+lamely, "Well, I don't know."
+
+"Exactly. We've got to make up our minds, haven't we?"
+
+Bill didn't answer. Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and then
+at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were trying to
+learn what lay behind it. Which side was he on, if it came to choosing
+sides--Mark's or the Law's?
+
+"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo!' to him," said Antony,
+breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+
+"Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr. Gillingham,
+who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of bowls.'"
+
+"Yes, it's dashed difficult. I don't know what to say. I've been rather
+forgetting about Mark." He wandered over to the window and looked out on
+to the lawns. There was a gardener clipping the grass edges. No reason
+why the lawn should be untidy just because the master of the house had
+disappeared. It was going to be a hot day again. Dash it, of course he
+had forgotten Mark. How could he think of him as an escaped murderer,
+a fugitive from justice, when everything was going on just as it did
+yesterday, and the sun was shining just as it did when they all drove
+off to their golf, only twenty-four hours ago? How could he help feeling
+that this was not real tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of detective
+game that he and Antony were playing?
+
+He turned back to his friend.
+
+"All the same," he said, "you wanted to find the passage, and now you've
+found it. Aren't you going into it at all?"
+
+Antony took his arm.
+
+"Let's go outside again," he said. "We can't go into it now, anyhow.
+It's too risky, with Cayley about. Bill, I feel like you--just a little
+bit frightened. But what I'm frightened of I don't quite know. Anyway,
+you want to go on with it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill firmly. "We must."
+
+"Then we'll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the chance.
+And if we don't get the chance, then we'll try it to-night."
+
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+
+"Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?" asked Bill.
+
+"It's possible," said Antony. "Either Mark or--" He pulled himself up
+quickly. "No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let myself think
+that--not yet, anyway. It's too horrible."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
+
+
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been busy.
+He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in the brown
+flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he had made inquiries
+at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to this description had
+been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the evidence which had been
+volunteered to him had been inconclusive, it made it possible that
+Mark had indeed caught that train, and had arrived in London before the
+police at the other end had been ready to receive him. But the fact that
+it was market-day at Stanton, and that the little town would be more
+full than usual of visitors, made it less likely that either the
+departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of Robert by the 2.10
+earlier in the afternoon, would have been particularly noticed. As
+Antony had said to Cayley, there would always be somebody ready to hand
+the police a circumstantial story of the movements of any man in whom
+the police were interested.
+
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain. To find out more
+about him in time for the inquest would be difficult. All that was known
+about him in the village where he and Mark had lived as boys bore out
+the evidence of Cayley. He was an unsatisfactory son, and he had been
+hurried off to Australia; nor had he been seen since in the village.
+Whether there were any more substantial grounds of quarrel between the
+two brothers than that the younger one was at home and well-to-do,
+while the elder was poor and an exile, was not known, nor, as far as the
+inspector could see, was it likely to be known until Mark was captured.
+
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately. Dragging
+the pond might not help towards this, but it would certainly give the
+impression in court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling the case
+with zeal. And if only the revolver with which the deed was done was
+brought to the surface, his trouble would be well repaid. "Inspector
+Birch produces the weapon" would make an excellent headline in the local
+paper.
+
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked to
+the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the mood for
+a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend, Mr. Beverley.
+He gave them a cheerful "Good afternoon," and added with a smile,
+"Coming to help us?"
+
+"You don't really want us," said Antony, smiling back at him.
+
+"You can come if you like."
+
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+
+"You can tell me afterwards what you find," he said. "By the way," he
+added, "I hope the landlord at 'The George' gave me a good character?"
+
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+
+"Now how on earth do you know anything about that?"
+
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+
+"Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the Force."
+
+The inspector laughed.
+
+"Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham. You got a clean bill. But
+I had to make certain about you.
+
+"Of course you did. Well, I wish you luck. But I don't think you'll
+find much at the pond. It's rather out of the way, isn't it, for anybody
+running away?"
+
+"That's just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to the
+pond. However, we shan't do any harm by looking. It's the unexpected
+that's the most likely in this sort of case."
+
+"You're quite right, Inspector. Well, we mustn't keep you. Good
+afternoon," and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."
+
+"Good afternoon," said Bill.
+
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent for
+so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him rather
+crossly what was the matter.
+
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"I don't know; really I don't know. It's too devilish what I keep
+thinking. He can't be as cold-blooded as that."
+
+"Who?"
+
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on which
+they had been sitting. He sat there with his head in his hands.
+
+"Oh, I hope they find something," he murmured. "Oh, I hope they do."
+
+"In the pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Anything, Bill; anything."
+
+Bill was annoyed. "I say, Tony, this won't do. You really mustn't be so
+damn mysterious. What's happened to you suddenly?"
+
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+
+"Didn't you hear what he said?"
+
+"What, particularly?"
+
+"That it was Cayley's idea to drag the pond."
+
+"Oh! Oh, I say!" Bill was rather excited again. "You mean that he's
+hidden something there? Some false clue which he wants the police to
+find?"
+
+"I hope so," said Antony earnestly, "but I'm afraid--" He stopped short.
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"Afraid that he hasn't hidden anything there. Afraid that--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What's the safest place in which to hide anything very important?"
+
+"Somewhere where nobody will look."
+
+"There's a better place than that."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Somewhere where everybody has already looked."
+
+"By Jove! You mean that as soon as the pond has been dragged, Cayley
+will hide something there?"
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why afraid?"
+
+"Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn't easily be hidden anywhere else."
+
+"What?" asked Bill eagerly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk about it yet. We can wait and see what the
+Inspector finds. He may find something--I don't know what--something
+that Cayley has put there for him to find. But if he doesn't, then it
+will be because Cayley is going to hide something there to-night."
+
+"What?" asked Bill again.
+
+"You will see what, Bill," said Antony; "because we shall be there."
+
+"Are we going to watch him?"
+
+"Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing."
+
+"That's good," said Bill.
+
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as to
+which side he was taking. Previous to the tragedy of yesterday he had
+got on well enough with both of the cousins, without being in the least
+intimate with either. Indeed, of the two he preferred, perhaps, the
+silent, solid Cayley to the more volatile Mark. Cayley's qualities, as
+they appeared to Bill, may have been chiefly negative; but even if this
+merit lay in the fact that he never exposed whatever weaknesses he may
+have had, this is an excellent quality in a fellow-guest (or, if you
+like, fellow-host) in a house where one is continually visiting. Mark's
+weaknesses, on the other hand, were very plain to the eye, and Bill had
+seen a good deal of them.
+
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in
+regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of the
+Law against Cayley. Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but Cayley
+had committed an unforgivable offence. Cayley had listened secretly to
+a private conversation between himself and Tony. Let Cayley hang, if the
+Law demanded it.
+
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+
+"Come along," he said. "It's time for that job I spoke about."
+
+"The passage?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, of course. What is it?"
+
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+
+It was three o'clock, and at three o'clock yesterday Antony and Cayley
+had found the body. At a few minutes after three, he had been looking
+out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been surprised suddenly
+to find the door open and Cayley behind him. He had vaguely wondered at
+the time why he had expected the door to be shut, but he had had no time
+then to worry the thing out, and he had promised himself to look into
+it at his leisure afterwards. Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if
+it meant anything, he could have found out its meaning by a visit to
+the office that morning. But he had felt that he would be more likely
+to recapture the impressions of yesterday if he chose as far as possible
+the same conditions for his experiment. So he had decided that three
+o'clock that afternoon should find him once more in the office.
+
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a shock
+that there was now no body of Robert lying there between the two doors.
+But there was a dark stain which showed where the dead man's head had
+been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt twenty-four hours
+before.
+
+"I want to go through it again," he said. "You must be Cayley. Cayley
+said he would get some water. I remember thinking that water wasn't
+much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too glad to
+do anything rather than nothing. He came back with a wet sponge and
+a handkerchief. I suppose he got the handkerchief from the chest of
+drawers. Wait a bit."
+
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled open
+a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back to the
+office.
+
+"The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top right-hand
+drawer. Now then, Bill, just pretend you're Cayley. You've just said
+something about water, and you get up."
+
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling
+beside his friend, got up and walked out. Antony, as he had done on the
+previous day, looked up after him as he went. Bill turned into the room
+on the right, opened the drawer and got the handkerchief, damped the
+sponge and came back.
+
+"Well?" he said wonderingly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"It's all different," he said. "For one thing, you made a devil of a
+noise and Cayley didn't."
+
+"Perhaps you weren't listening when Cayley went in?"
+
+"I wasn't. But I should have heard him if I could have heard him, and I
+should have remembered afterwards."
+
+"Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him."
+
+"Wait!"
+
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought. It wasn't anything which
+he had heard, but something which he had seen. He tried desperately hard
+to see it again.... He saw Cayley getting up, opening the door from the
+office, leaving it open and walking into the passage, turning to the
+door on the right, opening it, going in, and then--What did his eyes see
+after that? If they would only tell him again!
+
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. "Bill, I've got it!" he cried.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
+ass, and ten times ass!"
+
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed to
+the wall of the passage.
+
+"Look at the sunlight on it," he said. "That's because you've left the
+door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through the windows.
+Now, I'm going to shut the door. Look! D'you see how the shadow moves
+across? That's what I saw--the shadow moving across as the door shut
+behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind you--quite naturally.
+Quick!"
+
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+
+"I thought so!" he cried. "I knew it couldn't have been that."
+
+"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.
+
+"Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved
+back again--all in one movement."
+
+"And what happened yesterday?"
+
+"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
+and there was no noise of the door being shut."
+
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+"By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards--as an
+afterthought--and very quietly, so that you couldn't hear?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into
+the room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with
+springs on them close?"
+
+"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"
+
+"Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
+slowly they swing to-- well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort
+of door. By Jove!" He got up, and dusted his knees. "Now, Bill, just to
+make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you
+know; and very quietly, so that I don't hear the click of it."
+
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what
+had happened.
+
+"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction. "That was just
+what I saw yesterday." He came out of the office, and joined Bill in the
+little room.
+
+"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr. Cayley
+was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that his friend
+Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
+
+
+Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something,
+perhaps, which he had found by the body, but that was absurd. In the
+time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a
+drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if
+he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by
+this time, and hidden it in some more secret place. Besides, why in this
+case bother about shutting the door?
+
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+
+"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.
+
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked. "Did he ever change
+down here?"
+
+"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
+kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
+go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
+never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
+he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he'd
+had half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
+gentleman's town and country outfit."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
+next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
+comfortable coat."
+
+"I see. Yes." He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
+lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
+glanced in. "He seems to have come in here for a collar lately."
+
+Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+
+"Yes. I daresay he would," he agreed. "If he suddenly found that the one
+he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or something. He
+was very finicking."
+
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+
+"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after examining it
+carefully. "It couldn't very well be cleaner." He dropped it back again.
+"Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"
+
+"Oh, yes, rather."
+
+"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"
+
+"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill. "That's what I don't
+understand. You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."
+
+"No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
+something which he didn't want me to hear."
+
+"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Yes; but what?"
+
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+
+"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by the
+effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
+struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you think
+I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still at it?
+Because--"
+
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.
+
+"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried. "Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
+Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!"
+
+"What on earth--"
+
+"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.
+
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it
+said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+
+"He was opening the window!" cried Antony.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Cayley, of course." Very gravely and slowly he expounded. "He came in
+here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I shouldn't
+hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here and found
+the window open. I said, 'This window is open. My amazing powers of
+analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this window.'
+'Oh,' said Cayley, raising his eyebrows. 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+must be right.' Said I proudly, 'I am. For the window is open,' I said.
+Oh, you incomparable ass!"
+
+He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+
+He tried to put himself in Cayley's place--Cayley, when Antony had first
+discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let me in!" Whatever
+had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert, Cayley knew
+all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not escaped by
+the window. But it was necessary to Cayley's plans--to Mark's plans
+if they were acting in concert--that he should be thought so to have
+escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his
+pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered--with what
+a shock!--that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left open!
+
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. Was the
+office window open? Surely it was open! Was it?.... Would he have time
+now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip out
+again? No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky.
+Fatal, if he were discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get
+the windows safely open while they were crowding round the body. They
+wouldn't notice. He could do it somehow.
+
+And then Antony's sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And Antony
+suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was just
+what he wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.
+
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest
+way round and yet run. It was Cayley's only chance of getting a start
+on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open somehow
+before Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he must get
+there first, just to make sure. Perhaps they were open. He must get away
+from Antony and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he
+must have a moment to himself, a moment in which to think of some other
+plan, and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+
+So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the
+window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet.
+There was the dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't
+hear.
+
+And Antony didn't hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
+Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had
+carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular window
+in preference to the office window. And Cayley had agreed that probably
+that was the reason. How he must have chuckled to himself! But he was
+still a little afraid. Afraid that Antony would examine the shrubbery.
+Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having broken
+through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces
+since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as
+far as footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard. Perhaps
+footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he thought of the big
+Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark's shoes. Cayley
+must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.
+
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or
+two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't hear. And Antony had not
+heard.... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
+listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of yesterday's happenings.
+It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them any further.
+It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+
+"What's that?" said Antony.
+
+"Mark. Where's Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then where
+is he now?"
+
+"I don't say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must have
+gone. Elsie heard him." He stopped and repeated slowly, "She heard him,
+at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out again by the
+door."
+
+"Well, but where does that lead you?"
+
+"Where it led Mark. The passage."
+
+"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?" Antony was
+silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort he
+came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+
+"I don't know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I don't
+know if it is the right one--I don't know, Bill; I'm rather frightened.
+Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be going to happen.
+However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any fault with it."
+
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay
+back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him,
+and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted
+over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they happened.
+
+"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an accident;
+probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a panic,
+naturally. But he doesn't lock the door and run away. For one thing, the
+key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not quite such a
+fool as that. But he is in a horrible position. He is known to be on bad
+terms with his brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him,
+which may possibly have been overheard. What is he to do? He does
+the natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
+circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable Cayley.
+
+"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
+tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see
+what is the matter. He explains rapidly. 'What's to be done, Cay?
+What's to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
+threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn't. Think of something,
+quick!'
+
+"Cayley has thought of something. 'Leave it to me,' he says. 'You clear
+out altogether. I shot him, if you like. I'll do all the explaining. Get
+away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage, quick. I'll come to
+you there as soon as I can.'
+
+"Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark's courage comes back. Cayley
+will explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an
+accident. He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley--Cayley
+has no quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage
+and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other
+end, and saunter slowly back to the house. He will be told the news by
+one of the servants. Robert accidentally shot? Good Heavens!
+
+"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
+the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door
+and shouts, 'Let me in!'"
+
+Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+
+"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense. What's the point of Cayley
+behaving like that?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+
+"And what has happened to Mark since?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.
+
+"You're ready to go?"
+
+"Quite," said Bill, surprised.
+
+"You're quite ready for what we may find?"
+
+"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."
+
+"I know I am." He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm being
+an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am." He looked at his
+watch.
+
+"It's safe, is it? They're still busy at the pond?"
+
+"We'd better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill--one of
+those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
+get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
+without letting him see you?"
+
+"Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait."
+
+Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he
+cried.
+
+"Mark?"
+
+"Yes. What Elsie heard him say."
+
+"Oh, that."
+
+"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
+him?"
+
+"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean."
+
+"Oh?"
+
+"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain, but--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything." He
+rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous, high-pitched voice,
+and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, "I say, that was
+really rather good."
+
+Antony nodded quickly. "That was like it?" he said.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes." He got up and squeezed Bill's arm. "Well just go and see about
+Cayley, and then we'll get moving. I shall be in the library."
+
+"Right."
+
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was
+glorious fun; this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be
+bettered. First of all he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little
+copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards away from
+it. He would come into this from the back, creep cautiously through
+it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then, drawing himself on his
+stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him. People were
+always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
+hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it himself.
+What fun!
+
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported to
+Antony, they were going to explore the secret passage! Again, what fun!
+Unfortunately there seemed to be no chance of buried treasure, but there
+might be buried clues. Even if you found nothing, you couldn't get away
+from the fact that a secret passage was a secret passage, and anything
+might happen in it. But even that wasn't the end of this exciting day.
+They were going to watch the pond that night; they were going to watch
+Cayley under the moonlight, watch him as he threw into the silence of
+the pond what? The revolver? Well, anyhow, they were going to watch him.
+What fun!
+
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they
+were getting, it did not seem fun. But it was amazingly interesting.
+He saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of focus. It was like
+looking at an opal, and discovering with every movement of it some new
+colour, some new gleam of light reflected, and yet never really seeing
+the opal as a whole. He was too near it, or too far away; he strained
+his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good. His brain could not
+get hold of it.
+
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned away
+from it. He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never seen
+murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and to which he was
+afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded killing which any man
+may come to if he lose control. It was something much more horrible. Too
+horrible to be true. Then let him look again for the truth. He looked
+again but it was all out of focus.
+
+"I will not look again," he said aloud, as he began to walk towards
+the house. "Not yet, anyway." He would go on collecting facts and
+impressions. Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+
+
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley was
+still at the pond.
+
+"But I don't think they're getting up much except mud," he said. "I ran
+most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible."
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Well, come along, then," he said. "The sooner, the quicker."
+
+They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher's famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill pulled.
+The shelves swung open towards them.
+
+"By Jove!" said Bill, "it is a narrow way."
+
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had
+something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two
+feet from the ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the
+floor of it was emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and
+flashed it down into the blackness.
+
+"Look," he whispered to the eager Bill. "The steps begin down there. Six
+feet down."
+
+He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of
+large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+
+"You swing off from there," said Bill. "At least, I suppose you do. I
+wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it."
+
+"Cayley helped her, I should think.... It's funny."
+
+"Shall I go first?" asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony shook
+his head with a smile.
+
+"I think I will, if you don't mind very much, Bill. Just in case."
+
+"In case of what?"
+
+"Well, in case."
+
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to wonder
+what Antony meant.
+
+"Righto," he said. "Go on."
+
+"Well, we'll just make sure we can get back again, first. It really
+wouldn't be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the rest
+of our lives. He's got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if he has
+to find you and me as well--"
+
+"We can always get out at the other end."
+
+"Well, we're not certain yet. I think I'd better just go down and back.
+I promise faithfully not to explore."
+
+"Right you are."
+
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat
+there for a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the
+darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began; then returned
+it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him and swung himself
+down. His feet touched the steps beneath him, and he let go.
+
+"Is it all right?" said Bill anxiously.
+
+"All right. I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back. Stay
+there."
+
+The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For
+a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint
+splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a little
+longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was alone....
+
+Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, turning round with a start, "Cayley!"
+
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in
+action. Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely
+but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the right places,
+to move away to another row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in
+"Badminton" or "Baedeker" or whomever the kind gods should send to his
+aid the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in
+five seconds rather than in six.
+
+"Ah, there you are," said Cayley from the doorway.
+
+"Hallo!" said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume of
+"The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge." "Have they finished?"
+
+"Finished what?"
+
+"The pond," said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on such
+a fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason....
+verifying a quotation--an argument with Antony--that would do. But what
+quotation?
+
+"Oh, no. They're still at it. Where's Gillingham?"
+
+'The Ancient Mariner'--water, water, everywhere--or was that something
+else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...
+
+"Tony? Oh, he's about somewhere. We're just going down to the village.
+They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?"
+
+"No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can say
+they've done it."
+
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back to it
+again. He was just getting to the place.
+
+"What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of
+his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that
+glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?
+
+"I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled. "Tony and I had a
+bet about it. You know that thing about--er water, water everywhere,
+and--er--not a drop to drink." (But what on earth, he wondered to
+himself, were they betting about?)
+
+"'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate."
+
+Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.
+
+"Quite sure?" he said.
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Then you've saved me a lot of trouble. That's what the bet was about."
+He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf, and began
+to feel for his pipe and tobacco. "I was a fool to bet with Tony," he
+added. "He always knows that sort of thing."
+
+So far, so good. But here was Cayley still in the library, and there was
+Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage. When Antony came back he would
+not be surprised to find the door closed, because the whole object of
+his going had been to see if he could open it easily from the inside. At
+any moment, then, the bookshelf might swing back and show Antony's head
+in the gap. A nice surprise for Cayley!
+
+"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
+anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+
+"I've got to go into Stanton."
+
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered
+also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, a pity. You're driving, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes. The car will be here directly. There's a letter I must write
+first." He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any
+moment now it might open.
+
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned. Obviously.
+But how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code. Did Antony
+know it? Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He had picked up
+a bit in the Army--not enough to send a message, of course. But a
+message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It
+wouldn't do to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know?
+And what letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at
+his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What letter?
+
+C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was
+just worth trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that right? C yes, that was C. He was sure of
+that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it
+might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk
+or something. He wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley, and
+began to tap absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the titles.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first; he
+couldn't get the rhythm of it.... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy. That was
+better. He was back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin
+to hear him soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a
+man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on
+the lawn. Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat
+knocking out his pipe. Would Antony understand? Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.
+C. for Cayley, Antony. Cayley's here. For God's sake, wait.
+
+"Good Lord! Sermons!" said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy) "Ever read 'em, Cayley?"
+
+"What?" Cayley looked up suddenly. Bill's back moved slowly along, his
+fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+
+"Er no," said Cayley, with a little laugh. An awkward, uncomfortable
+little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+
+"Nor do I." He was past the sermons now past the secret door but still
+tapping in the same aimless way.
+
+"Oh, for God's sake sit down," burst out Cayley. "Or go outside if you
+want to walk about."
+
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+
+"Hallo, what's the matter?"
+
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+
+"Sorry, Bill," he apologized. "My nerves are on edge. Your constant
+tapping and fidgeting about--"
+
+"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+
+"Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves."
+
+"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry. I'll go out in the hall."
+
+"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter. Bill sat
+down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there was
+nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. "And if you ask me," said
+Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought to be on the stage. That's where
+I ought to be. The complete actor."
+
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now.
+Antony had guessed.
+
+"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to talk to
+the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
+
+"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and saw
+Antony.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
+
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said casually
+enough that it was all right.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Cayley. "You're going down to the village?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+"I wonder if you'd take this letter to Jallands for me?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Thanks very much. Well, I shall see you later."
+
+He nodded and got into the car.
+
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+
+"Well?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Come into the library."
+
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+
+"You must give me a moment," he panted. "I've been running."
+
+"Running?"
+
+"Well, of course. How do you think I got back here?"
+
+"You don't mean you went out at the other end?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I say, did you hear me tapping?"
+
+"I did, indeed. Bill, you're a genius."
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"I knew you'd understand," he said. "You guessed that I meant Cayley?"
+
+"I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant. You
+must have had rather an exciting time."
+
+"Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for a
+life on the stage.
+
+"Good man," said Antony at the end of it. "You are the most perfect
+Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad," he went on dramatically, rising
+and taking Bill's hand in both of his, "There is nothing that you and I
+could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it."
+
+"Silly old ass."
+
+"That's what you always say when I'm being serious. Well, anyway, thanks
+awfully. You really saved us this time."
+
+"Were you coming back?"
+
+"Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
+tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of
+course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the
+other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn't shut it until the last
+possible moment--until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the
+taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C
+began to come along I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove'--bright, aren't I?--and I
+simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was worth. And
+hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather involved
+in explanations--about where I was, and so on."
+
+"You didn't see Mark, then?"
+
+"No. Nor his--No, I didn't see anything."
+
+"Nor what?"
+
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+
+"I didn't see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw a
+door in the wall, a cupboard. And it's locked. So if there's anything we
+want to find, that's where it is."
+
+"Could Mark be hiding there?"
+
+"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?' he
+would have thought it was Cayley. There was no answer.
+
+"Well, let's go down and try again. We might be able to get the door
+open."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+
+"Can Cayley drive a car?"
+
+"Yes, of course. Why?"
+
+"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"
+
+"I suppose so if he wanted to."
+
+"Yes." Antony got up. "Well, look here, as we said we were going into
+the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost think
+we'd better do it."
+
+"Oh!.... Oh, very well."
+
+"Jallands. What were you telling me about that? Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury."
+
+"That's right. Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter. The
+letter's for her."
+
+"Yes; well, let's take it. Just to be on the safe side."
+
+"Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?" asked
+Bill fretfully.
+
+"There's nothing to see, really, I promise you."
+
+"You're very mysterious. What's upset you? You did see something down
+there, I'm certain of it."
+
+"I did and I've told you about it."
+
+"No, you haven't. You only told me about the door in the wall."
+
+"That's it, Bill. And it's locked. And I'm frightened of what's behind
+it."
+
+"But then we shall never know what's there if we aren't going to look."
+
+"We shall know to-night," said Antony, taking Bill's arm and leading him
+to the hall, "when we watch our dear friend Cayley dropping it into the
+pond."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+
+
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped
+gently downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is
+difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length
+of time, Bill had dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed
+to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and made
+uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he noticed that his companion
+kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted to remember
+for a future occasion the way by which they were coming. Yet there was
+no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time in view of the
+road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall which bordered its
+further side stood out clearly against the sky.
+
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+
+"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+
+"Cayley. Didn't you see?"
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The car. Going past on the road there."
+
+"So that's what you were looking for. You've got jolly good eyes, my
+boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing it
+twice."
+
+"Well, I have got jolly good eyes."
+
+"I thought he was going to Stanton."
+
+"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
+
+"Then where is he going?"
+
+"The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After making
+quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really were going to
+Jallands, as they said."
+
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+
+"I say, do you think so?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient for him,
+hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when we're definitely
+somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
+
+"Useful for what?"
+
+"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he's mixed
+up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two. Even if he
+doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel that at any
+moment we might stumble on something."
+
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+
+"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+
+"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him. Bill pushed it
+through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's better," and returned
+the pipe to his pocket.
+
+"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
+
+"Well, that wants thinking over. It's going to be difficult. I wish we
+were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any chance?"
+
+Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old thatched
+farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up to a new world,
+and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however, of so discreet
+a growth that they had not brought with them any obvious change of
+character, and Jallands even with a bathroom was still Jallands. To the
+outward view, at any rate. Inside, it was more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
+
+"Yes--Angela Norbury," murmured Bill. "Not bad-looking, is she?"
+
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something
+more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill was keeping
+his superlatives for another. In Bill's eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine. To
+Antony, unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed, quite
+simply, beautiful.
+
+"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over. "Here you are."
+
+"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about what
+has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless even to
+believe it. If it is true what we've heard."
+
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+
+"Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?" She shook her head in
+distress. "It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody we
+didn't know at all." Then, with a sudden grave smile which included both
+of them, "But you must come and have some tea."
+
+"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we--er--"
+
+"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any man
+in her house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility. When
+her life-work was completed, and summed up in those beautiful words: "A
+marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place, between Angela,
+daughter of the late John Norbury...." then she would utter a grateful
+Nunc dimittis and depart in peace to a better world, if Heaven insisted,
+but preferably to her new son-in-law's more dignified establishment.
+For there was no doubt that eligibility meant not only eligibility as a
+husband.
+
+But it was not as "eligibles" that the visitors from the Red House were
+received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special smile for
+"possibles" was there, it was instinctive rather than reasoned. All that
+she wanted at this moment was news--news of Mark. For she was bringing
+it off at last; and, if the engagement columns of the "Morning Post"
+were preceded, as in the case of its obituary columns, by a premonitory
+bulletin, the announcement of yesterday would have cried triumphantly
+to the world, or to such part of the world as mattered: "A marriage has
+very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly take
+place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John Norbury, and--Mark
+Ablett of the Red House." And, coming across it on his way to the
+sporting page, Bill would have been surprised. For he had thought that,
+if anybody, it was Cayley.
+
+To the girl it was neither. She was often amused by her mother's ways;
+sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them. The Mark Ablett
+affair had seemed to her particularly distressing, for Mark was so
+obviously in league with her mother against her. Other suitors, upon
+whom her mother had smiled, had been embarrassed by that championship;
+Mark appeared to depend on it as much as on his own attractions; great
+though he thought these to be. They went a-wooing together. It was a
+pleasure to turn to Cayley, that hopeless ineligible.
+
+But alas! Cayley had misunderstood her. She could not imagine Cayley in
+love until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it. That was four
+days ago. She had not seen him since, and now here was this letter. She
+dreaded opening it. It was a relief to feel that at least she had an
+excuse for not doing so while her guests were in the house.
+
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the more
+sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and Angela had
+been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and efficiency of
+the expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on the sofa beside her,
+listening to many things which were of even greater interest to him than
+she could possibly have hoped.
+
+"It is terrible, terrible," she said. "And to suggest that dear Mr.
+Ablett--"
+
+Antony made suitable noises.
+
+"You've seen Mr. Ablett for yourself. A kinder, more warmhearted man--"
+
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Of course, yes, I was forgetting. But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham, you
+can trust a woman's intuition in these matters."
+
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+
+"Think of my feelings as a mother."
+
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury's feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed with
+a stranger. Yet what could he do? What, indeed, did he want to do except
+listen, in the hope of learning? Mark engaged, or about to be engaged!
+Had that any bearing on the events of yesterday? What, for instance,
+would Mrs. Norbury have thought of brother Robert, that family skeleton?
+Was this another reason for wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+
+"I never liked him, never!"
+
+"Never liked?" said Antony, bewildered.
+
+"That cousin of his, Mr. Cayley."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my little
+girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?"
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't, Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else."
+
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+
+"I never liked him," said Mrs. Norbury firmly. "Never." However, thought
+Antony to himself, that didn't quite prove that Cayley was a murderer.
+
+"How did Miss Norbury get on with him?" he asked cautiously.
+
+"There was nothing in that at all," said Miss Norbury's mother
+emphatically. "Nothing. I would say so to anybody."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. I never meant--"
+
+"Nothing. I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence.
+Whether he made advances--" She broke off with a shrug of her plump
+shoulders.
+
+Antony waited eagerly.
+
+"Naturally they met. Possibly he might have--I don't know. But my duty
+as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+
+"I told him quite frankly that--how shall I put it?--that he was
+trespassing. Tactfully, of course. But frankly."
+
+"You mean," said Antony, trying to speak calmly, "that you told him
+that--er--Mr. Ablett and your daughter--?"
+
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+
+"Exactly, Mr. Gillingham. I had my duty as a mother."
+
+"I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing your
+duty. But it must have been disagreeable. Particularly if you weren't
+quite sure--"
+
+"He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham. Obviously attracted."
+
+"Who would not be?" said Antony, with a charming smile. "It must have
+been something of a shock to him to--"
+
+"It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken. I saw at once
+that I had not spoken a moment too soon."
+
+"There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next meeting,"
+suggested Antony.
+
+"Naturally, he has not been here since. No doubt they would have been
+bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later."
+
+"Oh,--this was only quite lately?"
+
+"Last week, Mr. Gillingham. I spoke just in time."
+
+"Ah!" said Antony, under his breath. He had been waiting for it.
+
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have thought
+over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably, to have
+changed partners for a little while with Bill. Miss Norbury would hardly
+be ready to confide in a stranger with the readiness of a mother, but he
+might have learnt something by listening to her. For which of them had
+she the greater feeling, Cayley or Mark? Was she really prepared to
+marry Mark? Did she love him or the other--or neither? Mrs. Norbury was
+only a trustworthy witness in regard to her own actions and thoughts;
+he had learnt all that was necessary of those, and only the daughter now
+had anything left to tell him. But Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+
+"Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham," she was saying. "It is fortunate
+that they have mothers to guide them. It was so obvious to me from the
+beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband for my little girl.
+You never knew him?"
+
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular
+Velasquez--I should say Van Dyck. Angela would have it that she could
+never marry a man with a beard. As if that mattered, when--" She broke
+off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+
+"The Red House is certainly charming," he said.
+
+"Charming. Quite charming. And it is not as if Mr. Ablett's appearance
+were in any way undistinguished. Quite the contrary. I'm sure you agree
+with me?"
+
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Yes. And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world. So
+desirable in every way."
+
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little. Antony
+was about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs. Norbury began
+again.
+
+"And then there's this scapegrace brother of his. He was perfectly frank
+with me, Mr. Gillingham. He would be. He told me of this brother, and
+I told him that I was quite certain it would make no difference to
+my daughter's feelings for him.... After all, the brother was in
+Australia."
+
+"When was this? Yesterday?" Antony felt that, if Mark had only mentioned
+it after his brother's announcement of a personal call at the Red House,
+this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom behind it.
+
+"It couldn't have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham. Yesterday--" she
+shuddered, and shook her head.
+
+"I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning."
+
+"Oh, no! There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too devoted a
+lover. Not in the morning, no. We both agreed that dear Angela--Oh,
+no. No; the day before yesterday, when he happened to drop in about
+tea-time."
+
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her
+opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically engaged.
+She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be rushed, that dear
+Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at all.
+
+"The day before yesterday. As it happened, dear Angela was out. Not that
+it mattered. He was driving to Middleston. He hardly had time for a cup
+of tea, so that even if she had been in--"
+
+Antony nodded absently. This was something new. Why did Mark go to
+Middleston the day before yesterday? But, after all, why shouldn't he?
+A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might have taken
+him there.
+
+He got up to go. He wanted to be alone--alone, at least, with Bill.
+Mrs. Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great
+outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason to
+hate Mark,--Mrs. Norbury had given him that reason. To hate? Well, to be
+jealous, anyhow. But that was enough.
+
+"You see," he said to Bill, as they walked back, "we know that Cayley is
+perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and that must
+be for one of two reasons. Either to save Mark or to endanger him.
+That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly
+against him. Well, now we know that he is against him, definitely
+against him."
+
+"But, I say, you know," protested Bill, "one doesn't necessarily try to
+ruin one's rival in love."
+
+"Doesn't one?" said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean--"
+
+"You mightn't try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn't perjure yourself
+in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making."
+
+"Lord! no."
+
+"So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely."
+
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them from
+the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and leant
+against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the house which
+they had left.
+
+"Jolly little place, isn't it?" said Bill.
+
+"Very. But rather mysterious."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Well, where's the front door?"
+
+"The front door? Why, you've just come out of it."
+
+"But isn't there a drive, or a road or anything?"
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"No; that's the beauty of it to some people. And that's why it's so
+cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect. They're not too
+well off."
+
+"But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?"
+
+"Oh, there's a cart-track, but motor-cars can't come any nearer than the
+road" he turned round and pointed "up there. So the week-end millionaire
+people don't take it. At least, they'd have to build a road and a garage
+and all the rest of it, if they did."
+
+"I see," said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and continued
+their walk up to the road. But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
+
+
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night?
+Antony thought that he knew now. It was Mark's body.
+
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back
+from it. For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded
+killing. Was Cayley equal to it? Bill would have said "No," but that was
+because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and dinner
+with him; had ragged him and played games with him. Bill would have said
+"No," because Bill wouldn't have killed anybody in cold blood himself,
+and because he took it for granted that other people behaved pretty much
+as he did. But Antony had no such illusions. Murders were done; murder
+had actually been done here, for there was Robert's dead body. Why not
+another murder?
+
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon? The only evidence
+(other than Cayley's, which obviously did not count) was Elsie's. Elsie
+was quite certain that she had heard his voice. But then Bill had said
+that it was a very characteristic voice--an easy voice, therefore, to
+imitate. If Bill could imitate it so successfully, why not Cayley?
+
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all.
+Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over the
+girl whom they were both wooing. Suppose Cayley had killed Mark, either
+purposely, in sudden passion, or accidentally, meaning only to knock
+him down. Suppose that this had happened in the passage, say about
+two o'clock, either because Cayley had deliberately led him there, or
+because Mark had casually suggested a visit to it. (One could imagine
+Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.) Suppose Cayley
+there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round his
+neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search for a way
+of escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly he remembers
+that Robert is coming to the house at three o'clock that
+afternoon--automatically he looks at his watch--in half an hour's
+time.... In half an hour's time. He must think of something quickly,
+quickly. Shall he bury the body in the passage and let it be thought
+that Mark ran away, frightened at the mere thought of his brother's
+arrival? But there was the evidence of the breakfast table. Mark had
+seemed annoyed at this resurrection of the black sheep, but certainly
+not frightened. No; that was much too thin a story. But suppose Mark had
+actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose it could
+be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark--
+
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over the dead
+body of his cousin, and working it out. How could Robert be made to seem
+the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it? But suppose Robert were
+dead, too?
+
+He looks at his watch again. (Only twenty-five minutes now.) Suppose
+Robert were dead, too? Robert dead in the office, and Mark dead in the
+passage how does that help? Madness! But if the bodies were brought
+together somehow and Robert's death looked like suicide?.... Was it
+possible?
+
+Madness again. Too difficult. (Only twenty minutes now.) Too difficult
+to arrange in twenty minutes. Can't arrange a suicide. Too difficult....
+Only nineteen minutes....
+
+And then the sudden inspiration! Robert dead in the office, Mark's body
+hidden in the passage--impossible to make Robert seem the murderer, but
+how easy to make Mark! Robert dead and Mark missing; why, it jumped to
+the eye at once. Mark had killed Robert--accidentally; yes, that would
+be more likely--and then had run away. Sudden panic.... (He looks at his
+watch again. Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now. The thing arranges
+itself.)
+
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered. It seemed to fit in with the
+facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory which he had
+suggested to Bill in the morning.
+
+"Which one?" said Bill.
+
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting in
+the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and his fishermen had
+now withdrawn. Bill had listened with open mouth to Antony's theory, and
+save for an occasional "By Jove!" had listened in silence. "Smart man,
+Cayley," had been his only comment at the end.
+
+"Which other theory?"
+
+"That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the
+office door from the outside and hammered on it."
+
+"Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that. I asked you what
+the point of it was, and you wouldn't say anything." He thought for a
+little, and then went on, "I suppose you meant that Cayley deliberately
+betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like a murderer?"
+
+"I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the passage,
+alive or dead."
+
+"And now you don't think so?"
+
+"Now I think that his dead body is there."
+
+"Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards--after you had
+come, after the police had come?"
+
+"Well, that's what I shrink from, Bill. It's so horribly cold-blooded.
+Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of it."
+
+"But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough. According to
+you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with whom he
+has no quarrel, whom he hasn't seen for fifteen years!"
+
+"Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is
+that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in
+sudden passion. Anything that happened after that would be self-defense.
+I don't mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it. And I think
+that Mark's dead body is in the passage now, and has been there since,
+say, half-past two yesterday afternoon. And to-night Cayley is going to
+hide it in the pond."
+
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful
+or two, and said slowly, "You may be right, but it's all guess-work, you
+know."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Good Lord, of course it is," he said. "And to-night we shall know if
+it's a good guess or a bad one."
+
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+
+"To-night," he said. "I say, to-night's going to be rather fun. How do
+we work it?"
+
+Antony was silent for a little.
+
+"Of course," he said at last, "we ought to inform the police, so that
+they can come here and watch the pond to-night."
+
+"Of course," grinned Bill.
+
+"But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories
+before them."
+
+"I think perhaps it is," said Bill solemnly.
+
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+
+"Bill, you old bounder."
+
+"Well, dash it, it's our show. I don't see why we shouldn't get our
+little bit of fun out of it."
+
+"Neither do I. All right, then, we'll do without the police to-night."
+
+"We shall miss them," said Bill sadly, "but 'tis better so."
+
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of getting
+out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and secondly, the
+problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley dropped into the pond
+that night.
+
+"Let's look at it from Cayley's point of view," said Antony. "He may not
+know that we're on his track, but he can't help being suspicious of
+us. He's bound to be suspicious of everybody in the house, and more
+particularly of us, because we're presumably more intelligent than the
+others."
+
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the opportunity
+of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he's going to take good
+care that we aren't watching him. Well, what will he do?"
+
+"See that we are asleep first, before he starts out."
+
+"Yes. Come and tuck us up, and see that we're nice and comfortable."
+
+"Yes, that's awkward," said Bill. "But we could lock our doors, and then
+he wouldn't know that we weren't there."
+
+"Have you ever locked your door?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he'd bang on it,
+and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?"
+
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+
+"Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep
+thought. "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out, and that
+doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of him."
+
+"Let's put ourselves in his place," said Antony, puffing slowly at his
+pipe. "He's got the body, or whatever it is, in the passage. He won't
+come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look in at our doors to
+see if we're awake. He'll have to make sure about us first, and then go
+down for the body afterwards. So that gives us a little time."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill doubtfully. "We might just do it, but it'll be a bit
+of a rush."
+
+"But wait. When he's gone down to the passage and got the body, what
+will he do next?"
+
+"Come out again," said Bill helpfully.
+
+"Yes; but which end?"
+
+Bill sat up with a start.
+
+"By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?"
+
+"Don't you think so? Just imagine him walking across the lawn in full
+view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms. Think of
+the awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering if
+anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to wander
+to the window and look out into the night. There's still plenty of
+moonlight, Bill. Is he going to walk across the park in the moonlight,
+with all those windows staring at him? Not if he can help it. But he
+can get out by the bowling green, and then come to the pond without ever
+being in sight of the house, at all."
+
+"You're right. And that will just about give us time. Good. Now, what's
+the next thing?"
+
+"The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he drops
+whatever he drops."
+
+"So that we can fish it out again."
+
+"If we can see what it is, we shan't want to. The police can have a
+go at it to-morrow. But if it's something we can't identify from a
+distance, then we must try and get it out. To see whether it's worth
+telling the police about."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course, the trouble with
+water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I don't
+know if that had occurred to you.
+
+"It had," smiled Antony. "Let's come and have a look at it."
+
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence,
+looking at the pond beneath them.
+
+"See anything?" said Antony at last.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The fence on the other side."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Well, it's rather useful, that's all."
+
+"Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically," added Bill. "A moment later, his
+friend Watson had hurled him into the pond."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love being Sherlocky," he said. "It's very unfair of you not to play
+up to me."
+
+"Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?" said Bill obediently.
+
+"Because you can take a bearing on it. You see--"
+
+"Yes, you needn't stop to explain to me what a bearing is."
+
+"I wasn't going to. But you're lying here"--he looked up--"underneath
+this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his parcel
+in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it off on the
+fence there. Say it's the fifth post from the end. Well, then I take a
+line from my tree--we'll find one for me directly--and it comes on to
+the twentieth post, say. And where the two lines meet, there shall
+the eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I almost forgot to
+remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving
+act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome."
+
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+
+"I say, really? It's beastly dirty water, you know."
+
+"I'm afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of Jasher."
+
+"Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped, well, it's
+a warm night."
+
+"Just the night for a bathe," agreed Antony, getting up. "Well now,
+let's have a look for my tree."
+
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill's
+tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet
+nearer to heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the other
+end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally conspicuous.
+
+"That's where I shall be," said Antony, pointing to it. "Now, for the
+Lord's sake, count your posts accurately."
+
+"Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake," said Bill with
+feeling. "I don't want to spend the whole night diving."
+
+"Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then
+count backwards to the beginning of the fence."
+
+"Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head."
+
+"Well, that's how you will have to do the last part of it," said Antony
+with a smile.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They
+started to walk back to the house together.
+
+"There's one thing which worries me rather," said Antony. "Where does
+Cayley sleep?"
+
+"Next door to me. Why?"
+
+"Well, it's just possible that he might have another look at you after
+he's come back from the pond. I don't think he'd bother about it in the
+ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think he might
+glance in."
+
+"I shan't be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking up
+mud."
+
+"Yes.... Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked
+vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it, and
+one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for the
+head. You know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to feel
+that you were still sleeping peacefully."
+
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Rather. I'm awfully good at that. I'll make him up something really
+good. But what about you?"
+
+"I'm at the other end of the house; he's hardly likely to bother about
+me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first visit.
+Still, I may as well to be on the safe side."
+
+They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He
+nodded, and took out his watch.
+
+"Time to change?" he said.
+
+"Just about," said Bill.
+
+"You didn't forget my letter?"
+
+"I did not. In fact, we had tea there."
+
+"Ah!" He looked away and said carelessly, "How were they all?"
+
+"They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and--and all that
+sort of thing."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing
+was coming, he turned round, said, "Come on, Tony," and led the way
+upstairs.
+
+"Got all you want?" he said at the top of the stairs.
+
+"I think so. Come and see me before you go down."
+
+"Righto."
+
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window.
+He pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over
+the door at the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which
+projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his
+left. He could step out on to the top of the door, and from there drop
+easily to the ground. Getting back would be little more difficult. There
+was a convenient water-pipe which would help.
+
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. "Final
+instructions?" he asked, sitting down on the bed. "By the way, how are
+we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner."
+
+"Billiards?"
+
+"Righto. Anything you like."
+
+"Don't talk too loud," said Antony in a lower voice. "We're more or less
+over the hall, and Cayley may be there." He led the way to the window.
+"We'll go out this way to-night. Going downstairs is too risky. It's
+easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes."
+
+"Right. I say, in case I don't get another chance alone with you what do
+I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?"
+
+"It's difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he just
+knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don't overdo the snoring. But
+if he makes a hell of a noise, you'll have to wake up and rub your eyes,
+and wonder what on earth he's doing in your room at all. You know the
+sort of thing."
+
+"Right. And about the dummy figure. I'll make it up directly we come
+upstairs, and hide it under the bed."
+
+"Yes.... I think we'd better go completely to bed ourselves. We shan't
+take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get safely
+into the passage. Then come into my room."
+
+"Right.... Are you ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They went downstairs together.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+
+
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he
+suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front
+of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could
+stand it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down
+hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been
+lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But
+in the end he had been firm.
+
+"What about a little billiards?" he said, shaking himself free from the
+others.
+
+"Will you play?" said Antony to Cayley.
+
+"I'll watch you," he said, and he had watched them resolutely until the
+game, and then another game after that, had been played.
+
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+
+"Well, thank heaven for bed," said Bill; putting down his glass. "Are
+you coming?"
+
+"Yes," said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
+
+"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley. "I shan't
+be long following you."
+
+"Well, good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs. "Good night,
+Tony."
+
+"Good night."
+
+Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything
+happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what
+to wear on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and
+a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse
+for some time. And good idea a towel. He would want it later on, and
+meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.
+
+Tennis-shoes.... There. Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy
+figure.
+
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen.
+How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and
+then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become
+accustomed to the new darkness.... He could only just make out the bed
+in the corner of the room. Cayley would want more light than that if
+he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied. He
+pulled the curtains a little way back. That was about right. He could
+have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in the bed.
+
+How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn't that he wanted his
+friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his
+business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were
+safely in their bedrooms. Cayley's business would make no noise, give
+no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as
+the household was really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure
+himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far
+enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he came up
+to reassure himself. So it amounted to the same thing, really. He would
+wait until they were asleep.... until they were asleep.... asleep....
+
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal if
+he went to sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep .... And then, in
+an instant, he was intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at all!
+
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his business.
+Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of
+his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony have taken
+such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley's place, he had said. But how was
+it possible? They weren't Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would
+never know what he had dropped into it.
+
+Listen!.... Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now.
+Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.... The door was
+opening. He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord, suppose
+Cayley really was a murderer! Why, even now he might be--no, he mustn't
+think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round.
+He mustn't turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why
+didn't the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his
+hand no, he mustn't think of that. He was asleep. But why didn't the
+door shut?
+
+The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed,
+a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very
+natural sound--a deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one
+to it to make it seem more natural. The door was shut.
+
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up. As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark. He put the dummy
+figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just enough but not
+too much of it was showing, and stood by the door looking at it. For a
+casual glance the room was just about light enough. Then very quietly,
+very slowly he opened the door. All was still. There was no light from
+beneath the door of Cayley's room. Very quietly, very carefully he crept
+along the passage to Antony's room. He opened the door and went in.
+
+Antony was still in bed. Bill walked across to wake him up, and then
+stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs. There was
+somebody else in the room.
+
+"All right, Bill," said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out from
+the curtains.
+
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+
+"Rather good, isn't it?" said Antony, coming closer and pointing to the
+bed. "Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better."
+
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him. They
+reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across the lawn
+and so, over the fence, into the park. It was not until they were out of
+sight of the house that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+
+"I quite thought it was you in bed," he said.
+
+"I hoped you would. I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley doesn't
+call again. It's a pity to waste it."
+
+"He came all right just now?"
+
+"Oh, rather. What about you?"
+
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+
+"There wouldn't have been much point in his killing you," said Antony
+prosaically. "Besides being too risky."
+
+"Oh!" said Bill. And then, "I had rather hoped that it was his love for
+me which restrained him."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I doubt it.... You didn't turn up your light when you dressed?"
+
+"Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?"
+
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+
+"You're a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on anything
+together."
+
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees
+which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously
+silent. It seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.
+
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+
+"There's your tree, there's mine. As long as you don't move, there's no
+chance of his seeing you. After he's gone, don't come out till I do. He
+won't be here for a quarter of an hour or so, so don't be impatient."
+
+"Righto," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+
+The minutes went by slowly. To Antony, lying hidden in the undergrowth
+at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting itself. Suppose
+Cayley had to make more than one journey that night? He might come back
+to find them in the boat; one of them, indeed, in the water. And if they
+decided to wait in hiding, on the chance of Cayley coming back again,
+what was the least time they could safely allow? Perhaps it would be
+better to go round to the front of the house and watch for his return
+there, the light in his bedroom, before conducting their experiments at
+the pond. But then they might miss his second visit in this way, if he
+made a second visit. It was difficult.
+
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and
+suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by the
+boat. In his hand was a small brown bag.
+
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using an
+oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off. Then, very silently, he rowed
+towards the middle of the pond.
+
+He had stopped. The oars rested on the water. He picked up the bag from
+between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and rested it lightly
+on the water for a moment. Then he let go. It sank slowly. He waited
+there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it might rise again. Antony began
+to count....
+
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place. He tied up the boat,
+looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him,
+and then turned to the water again. For a long time, as it seemed to the
+watchers, he stood there, very big, very silent, in the moonlight. At
+last he seemed satisfied. Whatever his secret was, he had hidden it; and
+so with a gentle sigh, as unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard it,
+Cayley turned away and vanished again as quietly as he had come.
+
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees. He waited
+there for Bill to join him.
+
+"Six," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I'm going round to the front of the house. You get back to your tree
+and watch, in case Cayley comes again. Your bedroom is the left-hand end
+one, and Cayley's the end but one? Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Right. Wait in hiding till I come back. I don't know how long I shall
+be, but don't be impatient. It will seem longer than it is." He patted
+Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod of the head he left him
+there.
+
+What was in the bag? What could Cayley want to hide other than a key or
+a revolver? Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need to put them
+in a bag first. What was in the bag? Something which wouldn't sink of
+itself; something which needed to be helped with stones before it would
+hide itself safely in the mud.
+
+Well, they would find that out. There was no object in worrying about
+it now. Bill had a dirty night's work in front of him. But where was the
+body which Antony had expected so confidently or, if there were no body,
+where was Mark?
+
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley? As quickly as he could
+Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying in the
+shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light to go up
+in Cayley's window. If it went up in Bill's window, then they were
+discovered. It would mean that Cayley had glanced into Bill's room, had
+been suspicious of the dummy figure in the bed, and had turned up the
+light to make sure. After that, it was war between them. But if it went
+up in Cayley's room--
+
+There was a light. Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement. It was in
+Bill's room. War!
+
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up, blowing
+the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest of the
+house. Bill had left his curtains undrawn. It was careless of him; the
+first stupid thing he had done, but--
+
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the
+bushes. There was another window beyond Cayley's, and there was no light
+in it. The declaration of war was postponed.
+
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed. After all it was only polite
+to return Cayley's own solicitude earlier in the night. Politeness
+demanded that one should not disport oneself on the pond until one's
+friends were comfortably tucked up.
+
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he
+might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six." It was the sixth
+post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These
+he arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond,
+counted up to the sixth post, and murmured "six" to himself again. Then
+he looked down at his twigs. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Seven!
+Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which
+had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said "six"
+to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right. Six.
+He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six together.
+Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of a tall
+man--well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to remember
+it. Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about the
+bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of the
+water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering, and
+saying, "Good Lord, what a life!" to himself, when Antony reappeared.
+
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+
+"Six," he said firmly. "Sixth post from the end."
+
+"Good," smiled Antony. "Mine was the eighteenth--a little way past it."
+
+"What did you go off for?"
+
+"To see Cayley into bed."
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall
+see it more easily. I'll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to
+undress here or in the boat?"
+
+"Some here, and some in the boat. You're quite sure that you wouldn't
+like to do the diving yourself?"
+
+"Quite, thanks."
+
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the sixth
+post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position,
+and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the
+eighteenth post. When they were ready, they got into the boat, Antony
+taking the oars.
+
+"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two marks."
+
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+
+"You're about there now," said Bill at last.
+
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+
+"Yes, that's pretty well right." He turned the boat's nose round until
+it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain. "You see my
+tree and the other coat?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill.
+
+"Right. Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line until we're
+dead in between the two. Get it as exact as you can--for your own sake."
+
+"Steady!" said Bill warningly. "Back a little.... a little more .... a
+little more forward again.... Right." Antony left the oars on the water
+and looked around. As far as he could tell, they were in an exact line
+with each pair of landmarks.
+
+"Now then, Bill, in you go."
+
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+
+"You mustn't dive from the boat, old boy," said Antony hastily. "You'll
+shift its position. Slide in gently."
+
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+
+"What's it like?" said Antony.
+
+"Cold. Well, here's luck to it."
+
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was gone.
+Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his landmarks.
+
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion. "It's pretty muddy," he
+protested.
+
+"Weeds?"
+
+"No, thank the Lord."
+
+"Well, try again."
+
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared. Again Antony coaxed the boat
+back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in front of him.
+
+"I feel that if I threw you a sardine," said Antony, with a smile,
+"you'd catch it in your mouth quite prettily."
+
+"It's awfully easy to be funny from where you are. How much longer have
+I got to go on doing this?"
+
+Antony looked at his watch.
+
+"About three hours. We must get back before daylight. But be quicker if
+you can, because it's rather cold for me sitting here."
+
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again. He was
+under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on his face
+when it was visible again.
+
+"I've got it, but it's devilish hard to get up. I'm not sure that it
+isn't too heavy for me."
+
+"That's all right," said Antony. He brought out a ball of thick string
+from his pocket. "Get this through the handle if you can, and then we
+can both pull."
+
+"Good man." He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again. "Now then."
+
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat. Bill clambered in
+after it, and Antony rowed back. "Well done, Watson," he said quietly,
+as they landed. He fetched their two coats, and then waited, the bag in
+his hand, while Bill dried and dressed himself. As soon as the latter
+was ready, he took his arm and led him into the copse. He put the bag
+down and felt in his pockets.
+
+"I shall light a pipe before I open it," he said. "What about you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes. Bill's hand was a
+little unsteady. Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+
+"Ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed the
+catch and opened it.
+
+"Clothes!" said Bill.
+
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out. It was a wet brown
+flannel coat.
+
+"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
+
+"Mark's brown flannel suit."
+
+"The one he is advertised as having run away in?"
+
+"Yes. It looks like it. Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes."
+
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters. He
+considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+
+"I suppose I'd better read them," he said. "I mean, just to see--" He
+looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded. Antony turned on his torch and
+glanced at them. Bill waited anxiously.
+
+"Yes. Mark.... Hallo!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about. From Robert.
+'Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you--' Yes, I suppose I had
+better keep this. Well, that's his coat. Let's have out the rest of it."
+He took the remaining clothes from the bag and spread them out.
+
+"They're all here," said Bill. "Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes--yes, all of them."
+
+"All that he was wearing yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+
+"Is it what you expected?"
+
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+
+"It's too absurd," he said. "I expected--well, you know what I expected.
+A body. A body in a suit of clothes. Well, perhaps it would be safer
+to hide them separately. The body here, and the clothes in the passage,
+where they would never betray themselves. And now he takes a great deal
+of trouble to hide the clothes here, and doesn't bother about the body
+at all." He shook his head. "I'm a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and
+that's the fact."
+
+"Anything else there?"
+
+Antony felt in the bag.
+
+"Stones and--yes, there's something else." He took it out and held it
+up. "There we are, Bill."
+
+It was the office key.
+
+"By Jove, you were right."
+
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down on
+the grass. A dozen large stones fell out--and something else. He flashed
+down his torch.
+
+"Another key," he said.
+
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in
+silence, thinking. Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt his
+thoughts, but at last he said:
+
+"Shall I put these things back?"
+
+Antony looked up with a start.
+
+"What? Oh, yes. No, I'll put them back. You give me a light, will you?"
+
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag, pausing as
+he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed to Bill, that
+it had something to tell him if only he could read it. When the last of
+them was inside, he still waited there on his knees, thinking.
+
+"That's the lot," said Bill.
+
+Antony nodded at him.
+
+"Yes, that's the lot," he said; "and that's the funny thing about it.
+You're sure it is the lot?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Give me the torch a moment." He took it and flashed it over the ground
+between them. "Yes, that's the lot. It's funny." He stood up, the bag in
+his hands. "Now let's find a hiding-place for these, and then--" He said
+no more, but stepped off through the trees, Bill following him meekly.
+
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of the
+copse, Antony became more communicative. He took the two keys out of his
+pocket.
+
+"One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key of
+the passage cupboard. So I thought that perhaps we might have a look at
+the cupboard."
+
+"I say, do you really think it is?"
+
+"Well, I don't see what else it can be."
+
+"But why should he want to throw it away?"
+
+"Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to wash
+his hands of the passage. He'd throw the passage away if he could. I
+don't think it matters much one way or another, and I don't suppose
+there's anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel that we must look."
+
+"Do you still think Mark's body might be there?"
+
+"No. And yet where else can it be? Unless I'm hopelessly wrong, and
+Cayley never killed him at all."
+
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+
+"I know you'll think me an ass--"
+
+"My dear Bill, I'm such an obvious ass myself that I should be delighted
+to think you are too."
+
+"Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him to
+escape, just as we thought at first. I know you proved afterwards that
+it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a way we don't know about
+and for reasons we don't know about. I mean, there are such a lot of
+funny things about the whole show that--well, almost anything might have
+happened."
+
+"You're quite right. Well?"
+
+"Well, then, this clothes business. Doesn't that seem rather to bear out
+the escaping theory? Mark's brown suit was known to the police. Couldn't
+Cayley have brought him another one in the passage, to escape in, and
+then have had the brown one on his hands? And thought it safest to hide
+it in the pond?"
+
+"Yes," said Anthony thoughtfully. Then: "Go on."
+
+Bill went on eagerly:
+
+"It all seems to fit in, you know. I mean even with your first
+theory--that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley for
+help. Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he'd have told Mark that he
+had nothing to be afraid of. But he isn't playing fair; he wants to get
+Mark out of the way because of the girl. Well, this is his chance. He
+makes Mark as frightened as possible, and tells him that his only hope
+is to run away. Well, naturally, he does all he can to get him well
+away, because if Mark is caught, the whole story of Cayley's treachery
+comes out."
+
+"Yes. But isn't it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything? It wastes a good deal of time, you know."
+
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, "Oh!" in great disappointment.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that, Bill," said Antony with a smile. "I
+daresay the underclothes could be explained. But here's the difficulty.
+Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or whatever it was, when
+Cayley was the only person who saw him in brown?"
+
+"The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit."
+
+"Yes, because Cayley told the police. You see, even if Mark had had
+lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley could
+always have pretended that he had changed into blue after lunch, because
+only Cayley saw him afterwards. So if Cayley had told the Inspector that
+he was wearing blue, Mark could have escaped quite comfortably in his
+brown, without needing to change at all."
+
+"But that's just what he did do," cried Bill triumphantly. "What fools
+we are!"
+
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+
+"Yes, yes!" insisted Bill. "Of course! Don't you see? Mark did change
+after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting away, Cayley
+lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in which the servants
+had seen him. Well, then he was afraid that the police might examine
+Mark's clothes and find the brown suit still there, so he hid it, and
+then dropped it in the pond afterwards."
+
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing. Bill began to
+speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+
+"Don't say anything more, old boy; you've given me quite enough to think
+about. Don't let's bother about it to-night. We'll just have a look at
+this cupboard and then get to bed."
+
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night. It was empty save
+for a few old bottles.
+
+"Well, that's that," said Bill.
+
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to search
+for something.
+
+"What are you looking for?" asked Bill at last.
+
+"Something that isn't there," said Antony, getting up and dusting his
+trousers. And he locked the door again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
+
+
+The inquest was at three o'clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim
+on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o'clock his bag was packed,
+and waiting to be taken to 'The George.' To Bill, coming upstairs after
+a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little
+surprising.
+
+"What's the hurry?" he asked.
+
+"None. But we don't want to come back here after the inquest. Get your
+packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves."
+
+"Righto." He turned to go to his room, and then came back again. "I say,
+are we going to tell Cayley that we're staying at 'The George'?"
+
+"You're not staying at 'The George,' Bill. Not officially. You're going
+back to London."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for you
+when you catch a train there after the inquest. You can tell him that
+you've got to see the Bishop of London at once. The fact that you are
+hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it seem more natural
+that I should resume my interrupted solitude at 'The George' as soon as
+you have gone."
+
+"Then where do I sleep to-night?"
+
+"Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect, in
+my bed, unless they've got another spare room at 'The George.' I've put
+your confirmation robe--I mean your pyjamas and brushes and things--in
+my bag, ready for you. Is there anything else you want to know? No? Then
+go and pack. And meet me at ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in the
+hall or somewhere. I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my
+Watson."
+
+"Good," said Bill, and went off to his room.
+
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley, they
+wandered out together into the park.
+
+"Well?" said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree. "Talk
+away."
+
+"I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning," began Antony. "The
+brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and working at
+this thing from the wrong end altogether."
+
+"Well, that's helpful."
+
+"Of course it's very hampering being a detective, when you don't know
+anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you're doing
+detection, and you can't have people up to cross-examine them, and you
+have neither the energy nor the means to make proper inquiries; and,
+in short, when you're doing the whole thing in a thoroughly amateur,
+haphazard way."
+
+"For amateurs I don't think we're doing at all badly," protested Bill.
+
+"No; not for amateurs. But if we had been professionals, I believe we
+should have gone at it from the other end. The Robert end. We've been
+wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time. Now let's wonder about
+Robert for a bit."
+
+"We know so little about him."
+
+"Well, let's see what we do know. First of all, then, we know vaguely
+that he was a bad lot--the sort of brother who is hushed up in front of
+other people."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a rather
+unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then we know rather a curious thing. We know that Mark told you all
+that this black sheep was coming. Now, why did he tell you?"
+
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+
+"I suppose," he said slowly, "that he knew we were bound to see him, and
+thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him."
+
+"But were you bound to see him? You were all away playing golf."
+
+"We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night."
+
+"Very well, then. That's one thing we've discovered. Mark knew that
+Robert was staying in the house that night. Or shall we put it this
+way--he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert out of the house
+at once."
+
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+
+"Go on," he said. "This is getting interesting."
+
+"He also knew something else," went on Antony. "He knew that Robert was
+bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him.
+He couldn't pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the
+Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once,
+because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel."
+
+"Yes. That's sound enough."
+
+"Well, now, doesn't it strike you that Mark made up his mind about all
+that rather quickly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read
+it he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second
+he thought out the whole business and came to a decision--to two
+decisions. He considered the possibility of getting Robert out of
+the way before you came back, and decided that it was impossible. He
+considered the possibility of Robert's behaving like an ordinary decent
+person in public, and decided that it was very unlikely. He came to
+those two decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter. Isn't
+that rather quick work?"
+
+"Well, what's the explanation?"
+
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+
+"What's the explanation? Well, let's leave it for a moment and take
+another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs.
+Norbury."
+
+"Mrs. Norbury?" said Bill, surprised.
+
+"Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a blot
+upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things. Either
+keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come out,
+tell them himself before the news came to them indirectly. Well, he told
+them. But the funny thing is that he told them the day before
+Robert's letter came. Robert came, and was killed, the day before
+yesterday--Tuesday. Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday. What do
+you make of that?"
+
+"Coincidence," said Bill, after careful thought. "He'd always meant
+to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was finally
+settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got
+Robert's letter, and felt jolly glad that he'd told her in time."
+
+"Well, it might be that, but it's rather a curious coincidence. And here
+is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred to
+me in the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it's
+this--he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the
+car."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well."
+
+"Sorry, Tony; I'm dense this morning."
+
+"In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?"
+
+"About six hundred yards."
+
+"Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark
+stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says,
+'Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don't think I ever told you that I
+have a shady brother called Robert,' walks six hundred yards up the hill
+again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that likely?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily.
+
+"Yes, but I don't see what you're getting at. Likely or not likely, we
+know he did do it."
+
+"Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong
+reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is
+that he knew on that morning--Monday morning, not Tuesday--that Robert
+was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+
+"But--but--"
+
+"And that would explain the other point--his instantaneous decision at
+breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn't instantaneous. He
+knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you would
+all have to know."
+
+"Then how do you explain the letter?"
+
+"Well, let's have a look at it."
+
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass
+between them.
+
+"Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way
+from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal
+your surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or
+thereabouts."
+
+"No date mentioned, you see," said Antony. "Just to-morrow."
+
+"But he got this on Tuesday."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday."
+
+"Oh, yes! he read it out to you."
+
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the
+back of it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+
+"What about the postmark?" he asked.
+
+"We haven't got the envelope, unfortunately."
+
+"And you think that he got this letter on Monday."
+
+"I'm inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think--I feel almost
+certain--that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming."
+
+"Is that going to help us much?"
+
+"No. It makes it more difficult. There's something rather uncanny about
+it all. I don't understand it." He was silent for a little, and then
+added, "I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+
+"What about last night? I'm longing to hear what you make of that. Have
+you been thinking it out at all?"
+
+"Last night," said Antony thoughtfully to himself. "Yes, last night
+wants some explaining."
+
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had Antony
+been looking for in the cupboard?
+
+"I think," began Antony slowly, "that after last night we must give up
+the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I don't
+believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of clothes
+when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more
+important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that
+Cayley had to hide."
+
+"But why not have kept them in the passage?"
+
+"He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it."
+
+"Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark's. For all you or I
+or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had, I
+should think."
+
+"Probably. But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley. The brown suit
+hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden. We all
+know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most obvious, but in
+practice very few people have the nerve to risk it."
+
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+
+"Then we just come back to where we were," he complained. "Mark killed
+his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the passage; either
+in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way out of it.
+And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit."
+
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+
+"Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically. "There's only one murder,
+after all. I'm awfully sorry about it. It was my fault for--"
+
+"Shut up, you ass. You know I didn't mean that."
+
+"Well, you seemed awfully disappointed."
+
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh confessed.
+
+"It was so exciting yesterday," he said apologetically, "and we seemed
+to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful things, and
+now--"
+
+"And now?"
+
+"Well, it's so much more ordinary."
+
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+
+"Ordinary!" he cried. "Ordinary! Well, I'm dashed! Ordinary! If only
+one thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do something, but
+everything is ridiculous." Bill brightened up again.
+
+"Ridiculous? How?"
+
+"Every way. Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night. You can
+explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes. You can explain the
+underclothes in some absurd way, if you like--you can say that Mark
+always changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed anybody from
+Australia--but why, in that case, my dear Watson, why didn't he change
+his collar?"
+
+"His collar?" said Bill in amazement.
+
+"His collar, Watson."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"And it's all so ordinary," scoffed Antony.
+
+"Sorry, Tony, I didn't mean that. Tell me about the collar."
+
+"Well, that's all. There was no collar in the bag last night. Shirt,
+socks, tie--everything except a collar. Why?"
+
+"Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Of course. 'Why no collar?' I said. For some reason Cayley considered
+it necessary to hide all Mark's clothes; not just the suit, but
+everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing, at the time
+of the murder. But he hadn't hidden the collar. Why? Had he left it out
+by mistake? So I looked in the cupboard. It wasn't there. Had he left it
+out on purpose? If so, why?--and where was it? Naturally I began to say
+to myself, 'Where have I seen a collar lately? A collar all by itself?'
+And I remembered--what, Bill?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+
+"Don't ask me, Tony. I can't--By Jove!" He threw up his head, "In the
+basket in the office bedroom!"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But is that the one?"
+
+"The one that goes with the rest of the clothes? I don't know. Where
+else can it be? But if so, why send the collar quite casually to the
+wash in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide everything
+else? Why, why, why?"
+
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+
+"Anyhow," said Antony, getting up restlessly, "I'm certain of one thing.
+Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
+
+
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible
+nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate that afternoon,
+proceeded to outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would be called to
+identify the deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the owner of the
+Red House, Mark Ablett. It would be shown that he was something of a
+ne'er-do-well, who had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he
+had announced, in what might almost be called a threatening letter,
+his intention of visiting his brother that afternoon. There would
+be evidence of his arrival, of his being shown into the scene of the
+tragedy--a room in the Red House, commonly called "the office"--and of
+his brother's entrance into that room. The jury would have to form their
+own opinion as to what happened there. But whatever happened, happened
+almost instantaneously. Within two minutes of Mark Ablett's entrance, as
+would be shown in the evidence, a shot was heard, and when--perhaps five
+minutes later--the room was forced open, the dead body of Robert Ablett
+was found stretched upon the floor. As regards Mark Ablett, nobody had
+seen him from the moment of his going into the room, but evidence would
+be called to show that he had enough money on him at the time to take
+him to any other part of the country, and that a man answering to
+his description had been observed on the platform of Stanton station,
+apparently waiting to catch the 3.55 up train to London. As the jury
+would realize, such evidence of identity was not always reliable.
+Missing men had a way of being seen in a dozen different places at once.
+In any case, there was no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had
+disappeared.
+
+"Seems a sound man," whispered Antony to Bill. "Doesn't talk too much."
+
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence--he knew the
+facts of the case so well by now--but he wondered if Inspector Birch had
+developed any new theories. If so, they would appear in the Coroner's
+examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been coached by the
+police as to the important facts to be extracted from each witness. Bill
+was the first to be put through it.
+
+"Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?" he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over. "Did you see it at all?"
+
+"I didn't see the actual writing. I saw the back of it. Mark was holding
+it up when he told us about his brother."
+
+"You don't know what was in it, then?"
+
+Bill had a sudden shock. He had read the letter only that morning. He
+knew quite well what was in it. But it wouldn't do to admit this. And
+then, just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered: Antony had
+heard Cayley telling the Inspector.
+
+"I knew afterwards. I was told. But Mark didn't read it out at
+breakfast."
+
+"You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?"
+
+"Not frightened. Sort of bitter--and resigned. Sort of 'Oh, Lord, here
+we are again!'"
+
+There was a titter here and there. The Coroner smiled, and tried to
+pretend that he hadn't.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Beverley."
+
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and Antony
+looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+
+"He lives at the inner lodge," whispered Bill to him.
+
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his lodge at
+a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to him. He had seen
+the body and recognized it as the man.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"'Is this right for the Red House?' or something like that, sir."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said, 'This is the Red House. Who do you want to see?' He was a
+bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn't know what he was doing
+there."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, sir, he said, 'Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?' It doesn't sound
+much put like that, sir, but I didn't care about the way he said it.
+So I got in front of him like, and said, 'What do you want, eh?' and he
+gave a sort of chuckle and said, 'I want to see my dear brother Mark.'
+Well, then I took a closer look at him, and I see that p'raps he might
+be his brother, so I said, 'If you'll follow the drive, sir, you'll come
+to the house. Of course I can't say if Mr. Ablett's at home.' And he
+gave a sort of nasty laugh again, and said, 'Fine place Mister Mark
+Ablett's got here. Plenty of money to spend, eh?' Well, then I had
+another look at him, sir, because gentlemen don't talk like that, and
+if he was Mr. Ablett's brother--but before I could make up my mind, he
+laughed and went on. That's all I can tell you, sir."
+
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room, nor did
+Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos intended to
+remain there until the inquest was over.
+
+"Who's Amos talking to now?" he whispered to Bill.
+
+"Parsons. One of the gardeners. He's at the outside lodge on the Stanton
+road. They're all here to-day. Sort of holiday for 'em.
+
+"I wonder if he's giving evidence too," thought Antony. He was. He
+followed Amos. He had been at work on the lawn in front of the house,
+and had seen Robert Ablett arrive. He didn't hear the shot--not to
+notice. He was a little hard of hearing. He had seen a gentleman arrive
+about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+
+"Can you see him in court now?" asked the Coroner. Parsons looked round
+slowly. Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+
+"That's him," said Parsons, pointing.
+
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+
+"That was about five minutes afterwards?"
+
+"About that, sir."
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman's arrival?"
+
+"No, sir. That is to say I didn't see 'em."
+
+Stevens followed. She gave her evidence much as she had given it to the
+Inspector. Nothing new was brought out by her examination. Then came
+Elsie. As the reporters scribbled down what she had overheard, they
+added in brackets "Sensation" for the first time that afternoon.
+
+"How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?" asked the
+Coroner.
+
+"Almost at once, sir."
+
+"A minute?"
+
+"I couldn't really say, sir. It was so quick."
+
+"Were you still in the hall?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I was just outside Mrs. Stevens' room. The housekeeper,
+sir."
+
+"You didn't think of going back to the hall to see what had happened?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, 'Oh, what
+was that?' frightened-like. And I said, 'That was in the house, Mrs.
+Stevens, that was.' Just like something going off, it was."
+
+"Thank you," said the Coroner.
+
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went into
+the witness-box; not "Sensation" this time, but an eager and, as it
+seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest. Now they were getting to grips
+with the drama.
+
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally--the lies with the same
+slow deliberation as the truth. Antony watched him intently, wondering
+what it was about him which had this odd sort of attractiveness. For
+Antony, who knew that he was lying, and lying (as he believed) not for
+Mark's sake but his own, yet could not help sharing some of that general
+sympathy with him.
+
+"Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"Not to my knowledge. I think I should have known if he had been."
+
+"You were alone with him all that morning. Did he talk about this visit
+of Robert's at all?"
+
+"I didn't see very much of him in the morning. I was at work in my room,
+and outside, and so on. We lunched together and he talked of it then a
+little."
+
+"In what terms?"
+
+"Well--" he hesitated, and then went on. "I can't think of a better word
+than 'peevishly.' Occasionally he said, 'What do you think he wants?' or
+'Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?' or 'I don't like the tone
+of his letter. Do you think he means trouble?' He talked rather in that
+kind of way."
+
+"Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in England?"
+
+"I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day."
+
+"Yes.... You didn't hear any conversation between the brothers when they
+were in the office together?"
+
+"No. I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone in, and
+I was there all the time."
+
+"Was the library door open?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Did you see or hear the last witness at all?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?"
+
+"I think so. Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose."
+
+"Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?"
+
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+
+"Hasty-tempered, yes," he said. "But not violent-tempered."
+
+"Was he fairly athletic? Active and quick?"
+
+"Active and quick, yes. Not particularly strong."
+
+"Yes.... One question more. Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?"
+
+"Yes. He always had one 100 pound note on him, and perhaps ten or twenty
+pounds as well."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Cayley."
+
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat. "Damn it," said Antony to himself,
+"why do I like the fellow?"
+
+"Antony Gillingham!"
+
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt. Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+
+He explained how he came to be staying at 'The George' at Waldheim, how
+he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how he had
+walked over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just after the
+tragedy. Thinking it over afterwards he was fairly certain that he had
+heard the shot, but it had not made any impression on him at the time.
+He had come to the house from the Waldheim end and consequently had seen
+nothing of Robert Ablett, who had been a few minutes in front of him.
+From this point his evidence coincided with Cayley's.
+
+"You and the last witness reached the French windows together and found
+them shut?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You pushed them in and came to the body. Of course you had no idea
+whose body it was?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did Mr. Cayley say anything?"
+
+"He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he saw
+it, he said, 'Thank God.'"
+
+Again the reporters wrote "Sensation."
+
+"Did you understand what he meant by that?"
+
+"I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett. Then
+he explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with whom he
+lived--Mark."
+
+"Yes. Did he seem upset?"
+
+"Very much so at first. Less when he found that it wasn't Mark."
+
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at the
+back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared sternly
+in the direction from which it came. The nervous gentleman hastily
+decided that the time had come to do up his bootlace. The Coroner put
+down his glasses and continued.
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the drive?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+He was followed by Inspector Birch. The Inspector, realizing that
+this was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon
+him, produced a plan of the house and explained the situation of the
+different rooms. The plan was then handed to the jury.
+
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House
+at 4.42 p.m. on the afternoon in question. He had been received by Mr.
+Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to him, and he had then
+proceeded to examine the scene of the crime. The French windows had been
+forced from outside. The door leading into the hall was locked; he had
+searched the room thoroughly and had found no trace of a key. In the
+bedroom leading out of the office he had found an open window. There
+were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and, as he found
+from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching it with the
+boots. A few yards outside the window a shrubbery began. There were no
+recent footmarks outside the window, but the ground was in a very hard
+condition owing to the absence of rain. In the shrubbery, however, he
+found several twigs on the ground, recently broken off, together with
+other evidence that some body had been forcing its way through. He had
+questioned everybody connected with the estate, and none of them had
+been into the shrubbery recently. By forcing a way through the shrubbery
+it was possible for a person to make a detour of the house and get to
+the Stanton end of the park without ever being in sight of the house
+itself.
+
+He had made inquiries about the deceased. Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble at
+home. Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from which he and
+his brother had come. Deceased and his brother had never been on good
+terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come into money had been a
+cause of great bitterness between them. It was shortly after this that
+Robert had left for Australia.
+
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station. It had been market-day at
+Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than usual.
+Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert Ablett; there had
+been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train that afternoon, the train
+by which Robert had undoubtedly come from London. A witness, however,
+would state that he noticed a man resembling Mark Ablett at the station
+at 3.53 p.m. that afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to
+town.
+
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House. He had dragged this,
+but without result....
+
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all the
+time. Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be got from
+that. He felt so close to the truth; at any moment something might give
+his brain the one little hint which it wanted. Inspector Birch was just
+pursuing the ordinary. Whatever else this case was, it was not ordinary.
+There was something uncanny about it.
+
+John Borden was giving evidence. He was on the up platform seeing a
+friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon. He had noticed a man on the
+platform with coat collar turned up and a scarf round his chin. He had
+wondered why the man should do this on such a hot day. The man seemed to
+be trying to escape observation. Directly the train came in, he hurried
+into a carriage. And so on.
+
+"There's always a John Borden at every murder case," said Antony to
+himself.
+
+"Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?"
+
+"Once or twice, sir."
+
+"Was it he?"
+
+"I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar turned
+up and the scarf and all. But directly I heard of the sad affair, and
+that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden, 'Now I wonder if
+that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?' So then we talked it over and
+decided that I ought to come and tell Inspector Birch. It was just Mr.
+Ablett's height, sir."
+
+Antony went on with his thoughts....
+
+The Coroner was summing up. The jury, he said, had now heard all the
+evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that room between
+the two brothers. How had the deceased met his death? The medical
+evidence would probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett had died from
+the effects of a bullet-wound in the head. Who had fired that bullet?
+If Robert Ablett had fired it himself, no doubt they would bring in
+a verdict of suicide, but if this had been so, where was the revolver
+which had fired it, and what had become of Mark Ablett? If they
+disbelieved in this possibility of suicide, what remained? Accidental
+death, justifiable homicide, and murder. Could the deceased have been
+killed accidentally? It was possible, but then would Mark Ablett have
+run away? The evidence that he had run away from the scene of the crime
+was strong. His cousin had seen him go into the room, the servant Elsie
+Wood had heard him quarrelling with his brother in the room, the door
+had been locked from the inside, and there were signs that outside
+the open window some one had pushed his way very recently through the
+shrubbery. Who, if not Mark? They would have then to consider whether he
+would have run away if he had been guiltless of his brother's death. No
+doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes. It was possible that
+if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had shot his brother, it
+might also be proved that he was justified in so doing, and that when he
+ran away from his brother's corpse he had really nothing to fear at the
+hands of the Law. In this connection he need hardly remind the jury that
+they were not the final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett
+guilty of murder it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when
+he was apprehended.... The jury could consider their verdict.
+
+They considered it. They announced that the deceased had died as the
+result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired by his
+brother Mark Ablett.
+
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side. But Antony was gone. Across the
+room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the door together, and
+Antony was between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+
+
+The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton Robert
+Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his
+friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would
+be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley
+would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at
+the back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
+weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. "GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER" it
+announced, to take place on "Wednesday, Decem." Bill smiled to himself
+as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a loquacious postman, had
+been played by "William B. Beverl," as the remnants of the poster still
+maintained, and he had been much less loquacious than the author had
+intended, having forgotten his words completely, but it had all been
+great fun. And then he stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun
+now at the Red House.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him. "My
+old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."
+
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled happily at
+him.
+
+"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little resentfully. "I
+couldn't think where on earth you had got to."
+
+Antony didn't say anything. He was staring at the poster.
+
+"When did this happen?" he asked.
+
+"What?"
+
+Antony waved to the poster.
+
+"Oh, that? Last Christmas. It was rather fun."
+
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+
+"Were you good?"
+
+"Rotten. I don't profess to be an actor."
+
+"Mark good?"
+
+"Oh, rather. He loves it."
+
+"Rev. Henry Stutters--Mr. Matthew Cay," read Antony.
+
+"Was that our friend Cayley?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Any good?"
+
+"Well, much better than I expected. He wasn't keen, but Mark made him."
+
+"Miss Norris wasn't playing, I see."
+
+"My dear Tony, she's a professional. Of course she wasn't."
+
+Antony laughed again.
+
+"A great success, was it?"
+
+"Oh, rather!"
+
+"I'm a fool, and a damned fool," Antony announced solemnly. "And a
+damned fool," he said again under his breath, as he led Bill away from
+the poster, and out of the yard into the road. "And a damned fool. Even
+now--" He broke off and then asked suddenly, "Did Mark ever have much
+trouble with his teeth?"
+
+"He went to his dentist a good deal. But what on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed a third time.
+
+"What luck!" he chuckled. "But how do you know?"
+
+"We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me. Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street."
+
+"Cartwright in Wimpole Street," repeated Antony thoughtfully. "Yes, I
+can remember that. Cartwright in Wimpole Street. Did Cayley go to him
+too, by any chance?"
+
+"I expect so. Oh, yes, I know he did. But what on earth--"
+
+"What was Mark's general health like? Did he see a doctor much?"
+
+"Hardly at all, I should think. He did a lot of early morning exercises
+which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at breakfast. They
+didn't do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty fit. Tony, I wish
+you'd--"
+
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+
+"One last question," he said. "Was Mark fond of swimming?"
+
+"No, he hated it. I don't believe he could swim. Tony, are you mad, or
+am I? Or is this a new game?"
+
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+
+"Dear old Bill," he said. "It's a game. What a game! And the answer is
+Cartwright in Wimpole Street."
+
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to Waldheim.
+Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to talk, but Antony had
+only grunted in reply. He was just going to make another attempt, when
+Antony came to a sudden stop and turned to him anxiously.
+
+"I wonder if you'd do something for me," he said, looking at him with
+some doubt.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it's really dashed important. It's just the one thing I want
+now."
+
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+
+"I say, have you really found it all out?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"At least, I'm very nearly there, Bill. There's just this one thing I
+want now. It means your going back to Stanton. Well, we haven't come
+far; it won't take you long. Do you mind?"
+
+"My dear Holmes, I am at your service."
+
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+
+"Is there another inn at Stanton--fairly close to the station?"
+
+"The 'Plough and Horses'--just at the corner where the road goes up to
+the station--is that the one you mean?"
+
+"That would be the one. I suppose you could do with a drink, couldn't
+you?"
+
+"Rather!" said Bill, with a grin.
+
+"Good. Then have one at the 'Plough and Horses.' Have two, if you like,
+and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you. I want you
+to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night."
+
+"Robert?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"I didn't say Robert," said Antony, smiling. "I just want you to find
+out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night. A stranger.
+If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without letting the
+landlord know that you are interested--"
+
+"Leave it to me," broke in Bill. "I know just what you want."
+
+"Don't assume that it was Robert--or anybody else. Let them describe the
+man to you. Don't influence them unconsciously by suggesting that he was
+short or tall, or anything of that sort. Just get them talking. If it's
+the landlord, you'd better stand him a drink or two."
+
+"Right you are," said Bill confidently. "Where do I meet you again?"
+
+"Probably at 'The George.' If you get there before me, you can order
+dinner for eight o'clock. Anyhow we'll meet at eight, if not before."
+
+"Good." He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm. Then he
+looked round slowly, as if in search of something. Suddenly he saw what
+he wanted. Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off to the left, and
+there was a gate a little way up on the right-hand side of it. Antony
+walked to the gate, filling his pipe as he went. Then he lit his pipe,
+sat on the gate, and took his head in his hands.
+
+"Now then," he said to himself, "let's begin at the beginning."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at 'The George,' to find Antony,
+cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting for him.
+
+"Is dinner ready?" were Bill's first words.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I'll just have a wash. Lord, I'm tired."
+
+"I never ought to have asked you," said Antony penitently.
+
+"That's all right. I shan't be a moment." Half-way up the stairs he
+turned round and asked, "Am I in your room?"
+
+"Yes. Do you know the way?"
+
+"Yes. Start carving, will you? And order lots of beer." He disappeared
+round the top of the staircase. Antony went slowly in.
+
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able to
+spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account of his
+adventures. The landlord of the "Plough and Horses" had been sticky,
+decidedly sticky--Bill had been unable at first to get anything out of
+him. But Bill had been tactful; lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+
+"He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and
+so on, and how there'd been an inquest in his wife's family once,
+which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, 'Pretty busy, I
+suppose, just now, what?' and then he'd say, 'Middlin',' and go on again
+about Susan--that was the one that had the inquest--he talked about it
+as if it were a disease--and then I'd try again, and say, 'Slack times,
+I expect, just now, eh?' and he'd say 'Middlin' again, and then it was
+time to offer him another drink, and I didn't seem to be getting much
+nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John Borden--he
+was the man who said he'd seen Mark at the station. Well, he knew all
+about Borden, and after he'd told me all about Borden's wife's family,
+and how one of them had been burnt to death--after you with the beer;
+thanks--well, then I said carelessly that it must be very hard to
+remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify him
+afterwards, and he agreed that it would be 'middlin' hard,' and then--"
+
+"Give me three guesses," interrupted Antony. "You asked him if he
+remembered everybody who came to his inn?"
+
+"That's it. Bright, wasn't it?"
+
+"Brilliant. And what was the result?"
+
+"The result was a woman."
+
+"A woman?" said Antony eagerly.
+
+"A woman," said Bill impressively. "Of course I thought it was going to
+be Robert--so did you, didn't you?--but it wasn't. It was a woman. Came
+quite late on Monday night in a car--driving herself--went off early
+next morning."
+
+"Did he describe her?"
+
+"Yes. She was middlin'. Middlin' tall, middlin' age, middlin' colour,
+and so on. Doesn't help much, does it? But still--a woman. Does that
+upset your theory?"
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, Bill, not at all," he said.
+
+"You knew all the time? At least, you guessed?"
+
+"Wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you everything to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing to-night, if you'll promise not to ask
+any more questions. But you probably know it already."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother."
+
+"And Cayley did?"
+
+"That's another question, Bill. However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn't, either."
+
+"Then who on earth--"
+
+"Have some more beer," said Antony with a smile. And Bill had to be
+content with that.
+
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired. Bill
+slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering. What was
+happening at the Red House now? Perhaps he would hear in the morning;
+perhaps he would get a letter. He went over the whole story again from
+the beginning--was there any possibility of a mistake? What would the
+police do? Would they ever find out? Ought he to have told them? Well,
+let them find out; it was their job. Surely he couldn't have made a
+mistake this time. No good wondering now; he would know definitely in
+the morning.
+
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. Cayley's Apology
+
+"My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+
+"I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which
+you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in this
+case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why,
+in these circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your
+intentions I do not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly out
+of sympathy with me. But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you
+will want to know--and I want you to know--the exact manner in which
+Ablett met his death and the reasons which made that death necessary. If
+the police have to be told anything, I would rather that they too knew
+the whole story. They, and even you, may call it murder, but by that
+time I shall be out of the way. Let them call it what they like.
+
+"I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago, when
+I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five. His
+whole life was make-believe, and just now he was pretending to be a
+philanthropist. He sat in our little drawing-room, flicking his gloves
+against the back of his left hand, and my mother, good soul, thought
+what a noble young gentleman he was, and Philip and I, hastily washed
+and crammed into collars, stood in front of him, nudging each other and
+kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our hearts for having
+interrupted our game. He had decided to adopt one of us, kind Cousin
+Mark. Heaven knows why he chose me. Philip was eleven; two years longer
+to wait. Perhaps that was why.
+
+"Well, Mark educated me. I went to a public school and to Cambridge,
+and I became his secretary. Well, much more than his secretary as your
+friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land agent, his financial
+adviser, his courier, his--but this most of all--his audience. Mark
+could never live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him.
+I think in his heart he hoped I should be his Boswell. He told me one
+day that he had made me his literary executor--poor devil. And he used
+to write me the absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters
+which I read once and then tore up. The futility of the man!
+
+"It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been
+hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and
+discovered there that there was not much fun to be got in this world on
+two pounds a week. I had a frantic letter from him one day, saying that
+he must have a hundred at once, or he would be ruined, and I went to
+Mark for the money. Only to borrow it, you understand; he gave me a good
+salary and I could have paid it back in three months. But no. He saw
+nothing for himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no admiration.
+Philip's gratitude would be to me, not to him. I begged, I threatened,
+we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It killed
+my mother--he was always her favourite--but Mark, as usual, got his
+satisfaction out of it. He preened himself on his judgment of character
+in having chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+
+"Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said
+to him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his
+accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each other,
+from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him see it, I
+was his bitterest enemy. If that had been all, I wonder if I should have
+killed him? To live on terms of intimate friendship with a man whom you
+hate is dangerous work for your friend. Because of his belief in me
+as his admiring and grateful protege and his belief in himself as my
+benefactor, he was now utterly in my power. I could take my time and
+choose my opportunity. Perhaps I should not have killed him, but I had
+sworn to have my revenge--and there he was, poor vain fool, at my mercy.
+I was in no hurry.
+
+"Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge was
+being taken out of my hands. Mark began to drink. Could I have stopped
+him? I don't think so, but to my immense surprise I found myself trying
+to. Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason; or did I reason it
+out and tell myself that, if he drank himself to death, I should lose
+my revenge? Upon my word, I cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive, I
+did genuinely want to stop it. Drinking is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+
+"I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret. Yes, I kept him outwardly decent;
+and perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim in
+good condition for his own ends. I used to gloat over Mark, thinking how
+utterly he was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially, morally, whatever
+way would give me most satisfaction. I had but to take my hand away from
+him and he sank. But again I was in no hurry.
+
+"Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up with his
+own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the truest and
+purest woman on this earth. You have seen her, Mr. Gillingham, but you
+never knew Mark Ablett. Even if he had not been a drunkard, there was
+no chance for her of happiness with him. I had known him for many years,
+but never once had I seen him moved by any generous emotion. To have
+lived with that shrivelled little soul would have been hell for her; and
+a thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.
+
+"So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her, for
+her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin. I would have
+shot him openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but I had no mind
+to sacrifice myself needlessly. He was in my power; I could persuade him
+to almost anything by flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give
+his death the appearance of an accident.
+
+"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I made
+and rejected. For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate boating
+accident in the pond--Mark, a very indifferent swimmer, myself almost
+exhausted in a gallant attempt to hold him up. And then he himself gave
+me the idea, he and Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in
+my hands; without risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not
+discovered me.
+
+"We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain, pompous and
+absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was irritated by it.
+After dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost and frightening him.
+I thought it my duty to warn her that Mark took any joke against
+himself badly, but she was determined to do it. I gave way reluctantly.
+Reluctantly, also, I told her the secret of the passage. (There is an
+underground passage from the library to the bowling-green. You should
+exercise your ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to discover it. Mark
+came upon it by accident a year ago. It was a godsend to him; he could
+drink there in greater secrecy. But he had to tell me about it. He
+wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+
+"I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that
+Mark should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could
+never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly,
+but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective appearance,
+and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness which I
+required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional actress. I need
+not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling than a
+boyish desire to bring off a good joke--a joke directed as much against
+the others as against Mark.
+
+"He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was
+to make a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he not
+a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next morning.
+As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it; but never again
+would she come to the Red House--he was absolutely determined about
+that. I was to make a special note of it.
+
+"I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved
+very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he
+disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again--that
+was obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me
+indignantly.
+
+"'Is there a joke?" he said coldly.
+
+"I laughed gently again.
+
+"'I was just thinking,' I said, 'that it would be rather amusing if
+you--well, had your revenge."
+
+"'My revenge? How do you mean?'
+
+"'Well, paid her back in her own coin.'
+
+"'Do you mean try and frighten her?'
+
+"'No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a fool
+in front of the others.' I laughed to myself again. 'Serve her jolly
+well right.'
+
+"He jumped up excitedly.
+
+"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried. 'If I could! How? You must think of a way.
+
+"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting. He was an
+amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor
+he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for
+the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an
+admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have
+been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all
+that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving
+us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who
+had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for
+retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth
+Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then
+join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy
+revenge!
+
+"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
+Ablett.
+
+"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.
+
+"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested. 'It was just an
+idea.'
+
+"He began to think it out for himself.
+
+"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her--but I suppose
+she knows them all. What about an interviewer?'
+
+"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully. 'You've got rather a
+characteristic face, you know. And your beard--'
+
+"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.
+
+"'My dear Mark!'
+
+"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it off,
+anyhow. And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm going to do it
+properly.'
+
+"'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him admiringly.
+
+"He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
+knew that I had him.
+
+"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and moustache you
+might be recognizable. Unless, of course--' I broke off.
+
+"'Unless what?'
+
+"'You pretend to be Robert.' I began to laugh to myself again. 'By
+Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel
+brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow money
+from her, and that sort of thing.'
+
+"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+
+"'Robert,' he said. 'Yes. How shall we work it?'
+
+"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you
+and the Inspector both discovered. And he was a wastrel and he went to
+Australia. But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday afternoon. He
+couldn't have, because he died (unlamented) three years ago. But there
+was nobody who knew this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only
+one of the family left, his sister having died last year. Though I
+doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was alive or dead. He was not
+talked about.
+
+"For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans. You understand
+by now that our aims were not identical. Mark's endeavour was that his
+deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine that it should
+go to the grave with him. He had only to deceive Miss Norris and the
+other guests; I had to deceive the world. When he was dressed up as
+Robert, I was going to kill him. Robert would then be dead, Mark (of
+course) missing. What could anybody think but that Mark had killed
+Robert? But you see how important it was for Mark to enter fully into
+his latest (and last) impersonation. Half-measures would be fatal.
+
+"You will say that it was impossible to do the thing thoroughly enough.
+I answer again that you never knew Mark. He was being what he wished
+most to be--an artist. No Othello ever blacked himself all over with
+such enthusiasm as did Mark. His beard was going anyhow--possible a
+chance remark of Miss Norbury's helped here. She did not like beards.
+But it was important for me that the dead man's hands should not be the
+hands of a manicured gentleman. Five minutes playing upon the vanity of
+the artist settled his hands. He let the nails grow and then cut them
+raggedly. 'Miss Norris would notice your hands at once,' I had said.
+'Besides, as an artist--'
+
+"So with his underclothes. It was hardly necessary to warn him that
+his pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he had
+already decided upon Robertian pants. I bought them, and other things,
+in London for him. Even if I had not cut out all trace of the maker's
+name, he would instinctively have done it. As an Australian and an
+artist, he could not have an East London address on his underclothes.
+Yes, we were doing the thing thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I
+as a--well, you may say murderer, if you like. I shall not mind now.
+
+"Our plans were settled. I went to London on the Monday and wrote him
+a letter from Robert. (The artistic touch again.) I also bought a
+revolver. On the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival of Robert
+at the breakfast-table. Robert was now alive--we had six witnesses to
+prove it; six witnesses who knew that he was coming that afternoon. Our
+private plan was that Robert should present himself at three o'clock,
+in readiness for the return of the golfing-party shortly afterwards. The
+maid would go to look for Mark, and having failed to find him, come back
+to the office to find me entertaining Robert in Mark's absence. I
+would explain that Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would myself
+introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table. Mark's absence would not
+excite any comment, for it would be generally felt--indeed Robert would
+suggest it--that he had been afraid of meeting his brother. Then Robert
+would make himself amusingly offensive to the guests, particularly, of
+course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke had gone far enough.
+
+"That was our private plan. Perhaps I should say that it was Mark's
+private plan. My own was different.
+
+"The announcement at breakfast went well. After the golfing-party had
+gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our arrangements. What
+I was chiefly concerned about was to establish as completely as possible
+the identity of Robert. For this reason I suggested to Mark that, when
+dressed, he should go out by the secret passage to the bowling-green,
+and come back by the drive, taking care to enter into conversation
+with the lodge-keeper. In this way I would have two more witnesses
+of Robert's arrival--first the lodge-keeper, and secondly one of the
+gardeners whom I would have working on the front lawn. Mark, of course,
+was willing enough. He could practise his Australian accent on the
+lodge-keeper. It was really amusing to see how readily he fell into
+every suggestion which I made. Never was a killing more carefully
+planned by its victim.
+
+"He changed into Robert's clothes in the office bedroom. This was the
+safest way--for both of us. When he was ready, he called me in, and
+I inspected him. It was extraordinary how well he looked the part. I
+suppose that the signs of his dissipation had already marked themselves
+on his face, but had been concealed hitherto by his moustache and
+beard; for now that he was clean-shaven they lay open to the world from
+which we had so carefully hidden them, and he was indeed the wastrel
+which he was pretending to be.
+
+"'By Jove, you're wonderful,' I said.
+
+"He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+
+"'Wonderful,' I said to myself again. 'Nobody could possibly guess.'
+
+"I peered into the hall. It was empty. We hurried across to the library;
+he got into the passage and made off. I went back to the bedroom,
+collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in a bundle and
+returned with them to the passage. Then I sat down in the hall and
+waited.
+
+"You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid. As soon as she was on her
+way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the office. My hand
+was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the revolver.
+
+"He began at once in his character of Robert--some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private performance
+for my edification. Then in his natural voice, gloating over his
+well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, 'It's my turn
+now. You wait.' It was this which Elsie heard. She had no business to be
+there and she might have ruined everything, but as it turned out it was
+the luckiest thing which could have happened. For it was the one piece
+of evidence which I wanted; evidence, other than my own, that Mark and
+Robert were in the room together.
+
+"I said nothing. I was not going to take the risk of being heard to
+speak in that room. I just smiled at the poor little fool, and took
+out my revolver, and shot him. Then I went back into the library and
+waited--just as I said in my evidence.
+
+"Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden appearance
+gave me? Can you imagine the feelings of a 'murderer' who has (as he
+thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then confronted suddenly
+with an utterly new problem? What difference would your coming make? I
+didn't know. Perhaps none; perhaps all. And I had forgotten to open the
+window!
+
+"I don't know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a clever
+one. Perhaps not. But if I do deserve any praise in the matter, I think
+I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together in the face of the
+unexpected catastrophe of your arrival. Yes, I got a window open, Mr.
+Gillingham, under your very nose; the right window too, you were kind
+enough to say. And the keys--yes, that was clever of you, but I think I
+was cleverer. I deceived you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I
+learnt when I took the liberty of listening to a conversation on the
+bowling-green between you and your friend Beverley. Where was I? Ah, you
+must have a look for that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"But what am I saying? Did I deceive you at all? You have found out the
+secret--that Robert was Mark--and that is all that matters. How have
+you found out? I shall never know now. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps you
+have been deceiving me all the time. Perhaps you knew about the keys,
+about the window, even about the secret passage. You are a clever man,
+Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"I had Mark's clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris knew
+it. That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss Norris had
+to know it. So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector having obligingly
+dragged it for me first. A couple of keys joined them, but I kept the
+revolver. Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr. Gillingham?
+
+"I don't think that there is any more to tell you. This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There was a time
+when I hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not at the Red
+House, not alone. Perhaps it was never more than an idle day-dream,
+for I am no more worthy of her than Mark was. But I could have made her
+happy, Mr. Gillingham. God, how I would have worked to make her happy!
+But now that is impossible. To offer her the hand of a murderer would be
+as bad as to offer her the hand of a drunkard. And Mark died for that.
+I saw her this morning. She was very sweet. It is a difficult world to
+understand.
+
+"Well, well, we are all gone now--the Abletts and the Cayleys. I wonder
+what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all. Perhaps it is as well that
+we have died out. Not that there was anything wrong with Sarah--except
+her temper. And she had the Ablett nose--you can't do much with that.
+I'm glad she left no children.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham. I'm sorry that your stay with us was not of
+a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in which I was
+placed. Don't let Bill think too badly of me. He is a good fellow; look
+after him. He will be surprised. The young are always surprised. And
+thank you for letting me end my own way. I expect you did sympathize a
+little, you know. We might have been friends in another world--you and
+I, and I and she. Tell her what you like. Everything or nothing. You
+will know what is best. Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+
+"I am lonely to-night without Mark. That's funny, isn't it?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+
+"I thought you'd say that," murmured Antony.
+
+"Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?"
+
+"I guessed some of it. I didn't quite know all of it, of course."
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a moment he
+was looking up again. "What did you write to him? Was that last night?
+After I'd gone into Stanton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you say? That you'd discovered that Mark was Robert?"
+
+"Yes. At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph to
+Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to--"
+
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence. "Yes, now what was all
+that about? You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a sudden. We'd
+been doing the thing together all the time, and you'd been telling me
+everything, and then suddenly you become very mysterious and private and
+talk enigmatically--is that the word?--about dentists and swimming and
+the 'Plough and Horses,' and--well, what was it all about? You simply
+vanished out of sight; I didn't know what on earth we were talking
+about."
+
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+
+"Sorry, Bill. I felt like that suddenly. Just for the last half-hour;
+just to end up with. I'll tell you everything now. Not that there's
+anything to tell, really. It seems so easy when you know it--so obvious.
+About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street. Of course he was just to
+identify the body."
+
+"But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?"
+
+"Who could do it better? Could you have done it? How could you? You'd
+never gone bathing with Mark; you'd never seen him stripped. He didn't
+swim. Could his doctor do it? Not unless he'd had some particular
+operation, and perhaps not then. But his dentists could--at any time,
+always--if he had been to his dentist fairly often. Hence Mr. Cartwright
+of Wimpole Street."
+
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+
+"I see. And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright to
+identify the body?"
+
+"Yes. And then of course it was all up for him. Once we knew that Robert
+was Mark we knew everything."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can say, Bill. You know those problems in Algebra
+where you say, 'Let x be the answer,' and then you work it out and find
+what x is. Well, that's one way; and another way, which they never give
+you any marks for at school, is to guess the answer. Pretend the answer
+is 4--well, will that satisfy the conditions of the problem? No. Then
+try 6; and if 6 doesn't either, then what about 5?--and so on. Well, the
+Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had guessed their answer, and
+it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn't really fit; there were
+several conditions in the problem which it didn't fit at all. So we knew
+that their answer was wrong, and we had to think of another--an answer
+which explained all the things which were puzzling us. Well, I happened
+to guess the right one. Got a match?"
+
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+
+"Yes, but that doesn't quite do, old boy. Something must have put you
+on to it suddenly. By the way, I'll have my matches back, if you don't
+mind."
+
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+
+"Sorry.... Well then, let's see if I can go through my own mind again,
+and tell you how I guessed it. First of all, the clothes."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I didn't
+quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's position the
+smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For some
+reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the clothes
+which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the
+inside ones as well as the outside ones. I didn't know why, but I
+did feel certain that, in that case, the absence of the collar was
+unintentional. In collecting the clothes he had overlooked the collar.
+Why?"
+
+"It was the one in the linen-basket?"
+
+"Yes. It seemed probable. Why had Cayley put it there? The obvious
+answer was that he hadn't. Mark had put it there. I remembered what you
+told me about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and so on,
+and I felt that he was just the sort of man who would never wear the
+same collar twice." He paused, and then asked, "Is that right, do you
+think?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Bill with conviction.
+
+"Well, I guessed it was. So then I began to see an x which would fit
+just this part of the problem--the clothes part. I saw Mark changing
+his clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar in the
+linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar he had ever
+taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a chair in
+the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the clothes
+afterwards--all the visible clothes--and not realizing that the collar
+wasn't there."
+
+"Go on," said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation of
+it. Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom? The only
+answer was that the fact of his changing had to be kept secret. When did
+he change? The only possible time was between lunch (when he would be
+seen by the servants) and the moment of Robert's arrival. And when
+did Cayley collect the clothes in a bundle? Again, the only answer was
+'Before Robert's arrival.' So another x was wanted--to fit those three
+conditions."
+
+"And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?"
+
+"Yes. Well now, it couldn't be intended on the strength of that letter,
+unless there was very much more behind the letter than we knew. Nor was
+it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation than
+the changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing was too
+childish. Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the way to
+announce his existence to you all--even, at the cost of some trouble, to
+Mrs. Norbury? What did it all mean? I didn't know. But I began to
+feel now that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of
+Cayley's against Mark--either to get him to kill his brother, or to
+get his brother to kill him--and that for some inexplicable reason Mark
+seemed to be lending himself to the plot." He was silent for a little,
+and then said, almost to himself, "I had seen the empty brandy bottles
+in that cupboard."
+
+"You never said anything about them" complained Bill.
+
+"I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you remember.
+They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel about
+it.... Poor devil!"
+
+"Go on," said Bill.
+
+"Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
+you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the
+second lodge and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons. That
+made it more curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his way
+to speak to him; had called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that
+his wife was out in their little garden at the first lodge all the
+afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never come past it. He also
+told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn
+that afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
+passage--the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job
+between Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark
+knowing? Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?"
+
+"When was this?" interrupted Bill. "Just after the inquest--after you'd
+seen Amos and Parsons, of course?"
+
+"Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I'd got back to
+the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly? Disguise?
+But then what about his face? That was much more important than clothes.
+His face, his beard--he'd have to shave off his beard--and then--oh,
+idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark
+disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert.... Matches, please."
+
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
+pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into
+the other's pocket.
+
+"Yes," said Bill thoughtfully. "Yes.... But wait a moment. What about
+the 'Plough and Horses'?" Antony looked comically at him.
+
+"You'll never forgive me, Bill," he said. "You'll never come
+clue-hunting with me again."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Antony sighed.
+
+"It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
+alone. I'd guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it--to test it every
+way, by everything we'd discovered. I simply had to be alone just then.
+So--" he smiled and added, "Well, I knew you wanted a drink."
+
+"You are a devil," said Bill, staring at him. "And your interest when I
+told you that a woman had been staying there--"
+
+"Well, it was only polite to be interested when you'd taken so much
+trouble."
+
+"You brute! You--you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
+matches. Well, go on."
+
+"That's all. My x fitted."
+
+"Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?"
+
+"Well, not quite. I didn't realize that Cayley had worked for it from
+the beginning--had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
+he'd just seized the opportunity."
+
+Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
+slowly, "Has Cayley shot himself?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Poor devil," said Bill. "It was decent of you to give him a chance. I'm
+glad you did."
+
+"I couldn't help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know."
+
+"He's a clever devil. If you hadn't turned up just when you did, he
+would never have been found out."
+
+"I wonder. It was ingenious, but it's often the ingenious thing which
+gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley's point of view was that,
+though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
+Well, that doesn't often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
+discovered in the end; a professional criminal--perhaps not--but an
+amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of how he killed Mark,
+but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he had
+killed him."
+
+"Yes, there's something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did
+Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?"
+
+"That's puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just doing
+the Othello business--painting himself black all over. I mean he may
+have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to
+believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he
+felt that, having told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss
+Norbury, in case she met one of you; in which case, if you mentioned the
+approaching arrival of Robert, she might say, 'Oh, I'm certain he has
+no brother; he would have told me if he had,' and so spoil his joke.
+Possibly, too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many
+people as possible to know about Robert."
+
+"Are you going to tell the police?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose they'll have to know. Cayley may have left another
+confession. I hope he won't give me away; you see, I've been a sort of
+accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss Norbury."
+
+"I asked," explained Bill, "because I was wondering what I should say
+to--to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she's bound to ask."
+
+"Perhaps you won't see her again for a long, long time," said Antony
+sadly.
+
+"As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you had better tell her. You're obviously longing to. Only don't
+let her say anything for a day or two. I'll write to you."
+
+"Righto!"
+
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+
+"The Barringtons," he said. "Large party?"
+
+"Fairly, I think."
+
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+
+"Yes. Well, if any of 'em should happen to be murdered, you might send
+for me. I'm just getting into the swing of it."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 1872.txt or 1872.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1872/
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/1872.zip b/1872.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cc2daa3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/1872.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c13ad29
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #1872 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1872)
diff --git a/old/20081106-1872-h.htm b/old/20081106-1872-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0695e76
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/20081106-1872-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,11107 @@
+<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
+    content="text/html; charset=us-ascii">
+<title>
+    The Red House Mystery,
+    by A. A. Milne
+</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
+    <!--
+		body { text-align:justify}
+    P { margin:10%;
+		    text-indent:   1em;
+        margin-top:    .75em;
+        margin-bottom: .75em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+		hr  { width: 50%; }
+    hr.full { width: 100%; }
+    .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 95%; }
+		img {border: 0;}
+    HR  { width: 33%; text-align: center; }
+		blockquote {font-size: 97%; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; }
+		.pagenum  { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
+            /*  visibility: hidden;  */
+                position: absolute;
+                left: 1%;
+                font-size: smaller;
+                text-align: left;
+                color: gray;
+              } /* page numbers */
+		.figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 1%;}
+		.mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em;
+                margin: 1em 5%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+		.toc       { margin-left: 5%; margin-bottom: .75em; font-size: 80%;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 5%;}
+    CENTER { padding: 10px;}
+		PRE    { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 20%;}
+    // -->
+</style>
+
+
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Release Date: November 6, 2008 [EBook #1872]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<br><br>
+
+<h1>
+    THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY
+</h1><br>
+
+<h2>
+By A. A. Milne
+</h2><br><br>
+
+<pre>
+   TO
+   JOHN VINE MILNE
+   MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+   Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective
+   stories, and feel that there are not enough of them.  So, after
+   all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you
+   is to write you one.   Here it is: with more gratitude and
+   affection than I can well put down here.
+
+   A.A.M.
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr>
+<br>
+<br>
+<blockquote>
+<p class="toc"><big><b>CONTENTS</b></big></p><br />
+
+
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0001">
+CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0002">
+CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0003">
+CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0004">
+CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0005">
+CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0006">
+CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0007">
+CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0008">
+CHAPTER VIII. "Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0009">
+CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0010">
+CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0011">
+CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0012">
+CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0013">
+CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0014">
+CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0015">
+CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0016">
+CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0017">
+CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0018">
+CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0019">
+CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0020">
+CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0021">
+CHAPTER XXI. Cayley's Apology
+</a></p>
+<p class="toc"><a href="#2HCH0022">
+CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
+</a></p>
+
+</blockquote>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<hr>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+</h2>
+<p>
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its
+siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came
+the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds;
+making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to
+the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the
+housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed
+her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr.
+Mark Ablett's bachelor home.
+</p>
+<p>
+"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey
+nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it,
+and said, "He likes a bit of pink."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt. "Joe Turner
+isn't the only one."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out at arm's
+length, and regarding it thoughtfully. "Stylish, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your
+age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other
+people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn't.
+If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five&mdash;that's what I say."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with great
+dignity.
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails
+critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Funny thing that about Mr. Mark's brother. Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years." She gave a self-conscious laugh and went on,
+"Wonder what I should do if I didn't see Joe for fifteen years."
+</p>
+<p>
+"As I told you all this morning," said her aunt, "I've been here five
+years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before everybody
+if I was going to die to-morrow. There's been no brother here while I've
+been here."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him
+at breakfast this morning. I didn't hear what went before, naturally,
+but they was all talking about the brother when I went in&mdash;now what
+was it I went in for&mdash;hot milk, was it, or toast?&mdash;well, they was
+all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says&mdash;you know his
+way&mdash;'Stevens,' he says, 'my brother is coming to see me this afternoon;
+I'm expecting him about three,' he says. 'Show him into the office,' he
+says, just like that. 'Yes, sir,' I says quite quietly, but I was never
+so surprised in my life, not knowing he had a brother. 'My brother from
+Australia,' he says&mdash;there, I'd forgotten that. From Australia."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, he may have been in Australia," said Mrs. Stevens, judicially; "I
+can't say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say is he's
+never been here. Not while I've been here, and that's five years."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, but, auntie, he hasn't been here for fifteen years. I heard Mr.
+Mark telling Mr. Cayley. 'Fifteen years,' he says. Mr. Cayley having
+arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him,
+I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn't know when he was last in
+England&mdash;see? So that's why he arst Mr. Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only speak
+for what I know, and that's five years Whitsuntide. I can take my oath
+he's not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if he's
+been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he's had his reasons."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What reasons?" said Audrey lightly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since
+your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey&mdash;when a gentleman goes to
+Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen
+years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he
+has his reasons. And a respectably brought-up girl doesn't ask what
+reasons."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly. "They were saying
+at breakfast he'd been a wild one. Debts. I'm glad Joe isn't like that.
+He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings' bank. Did I tell
+you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The
+ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet&mdash;no longer Audrey, but now
+Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There, that's the front door," she said. "That's him. 'Show him into
+the office,' said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn't want the other
+ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well, they're all out at their golf,
+anyhow&mdash;Wonder if he's going to stay&mdash;P'raps he's brought back a lot of
+gold from Australia&mdash;I might hear something about Australia, because if
+anybody can get gold there, then I don't say but what Joe and I&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now, now, get on, Audrey."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just going, darling." She went out.
+</p>
+<p>
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the open
+door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of which
+even the mere sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed,
+oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows,
+blue-curtained. On the right and left were doors leading into other
+living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were
+windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open windows
+to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went
+up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the
+left, led you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall,
+to your bedroom. That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr.
+Robert Ablett's intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+</p>
+<p>
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr.
+Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the
+front windows, reading. No reason why he shouldn't be there; certainly
+a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow there
+was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as if all the guests
+were outside, or&mdash;perhaps the wisest place of all&mdash;up in their bedrooms,
+sleeping. Mr. Cayley, the master's cousin, was a surprise; and, having
+given a little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed,
+and said, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn't see you at first," and
+he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive smile it was
+on that big ugly face. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley," she thought to
+herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would do without
+him. If this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia,
+it was Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+</p>
+<p>
+"So this is Mr. Robert," said Audrey to herself, as she came in sight of
+the visitor.
+</p>
+<p>
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for
+Mr. Mark's brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually
+she was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and
+his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always
+moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register
+one more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more
+expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was
+a very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial,
+staring at her so loweringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett," he growled. It sounded almost like a
+threat.
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a smile
+for everybody.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! So you know who I am, eh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Robert Ablett?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ay, that's right. So he's expecting me, eh? He'll be glad to see me,
+eh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you will come this way, sir," said Audrey primly.
+</p>
+<p>
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Robert Ab&mdash;" she began, and then broke off. The room was empty. She
+turned to the man behind her. "If you will sit down, sir, I will find
+the master. I know he's in, because he told me that you were coming this
+afternoon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" He looked round the room. "What d'you call this place, eh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The office, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The office?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The room where the master works, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Works, eh? That's new. Didn't know he'd ever done a stroke of work in
+his life."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where he writes, sir," said Audrey, with dignity. The fact that Mr.
+Mark "wrote," though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the
+housekeeper's room.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I will tell the master you are here, sir," said Audrey decisively.
+</p>
+<p>
+She closed the door and left him there.
+</p>
+<p>
+Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once,
+going over all the things which he had said to her and she had said to
+him&mdash;quiet-like. "Directly I saw him I said to myself&mdash;" Why, you could
+have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual
+menace to Audrey.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked
+across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little
+uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can you tell
+me where the master is? It's Mr. Robert called."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book. "Who?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey repeated her question.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. Isn't he in the office? He went up to the Temple after
+lunch. I don't think I've seen him since."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley returned to his book.
+</p>
+<p>
+The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back of
+the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated sometimes
+before retiring to the "office" to put his thoughts upon paper. The
+thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were given off at
+the dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and got on to
+paper more often than they got into print. But that did not prevent
+the master of The Red House from being a little pained when a visitor
+treated the Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the
+ordinary purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an
+occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in it. Mark
+had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little less than his
+usual point&mdash;whether they couldn't find anywhere else for their game,
+but the offenders were never asked to The Red House again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly back.
+All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his room.
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room." Well, now, Auntie, would
+you like anyone in your drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his
+neck and great big dusty boots, and&mdash;listen! One of the men shooting
+rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot
+it was; she wouldn't say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr. Robert
+wasn't staying the night; he hadn't any luggage. Of course Mr. Mark
+could lend him things; he had clothes enough for six. She would have
+known him anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother.
+</p>
+<p>
+She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper's room on her
+way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face
+looked out.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie. "It's Audrey," she said, turning into the
+room.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Up to the Temple."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you hear anything?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hear what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved. "One of the men shooting rabbits.
+Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's partial to a nice
+rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised if&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully. "It was inside the house, my girl."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Straight it was," said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids. "I said to
+Mrs. Stevens&mdash;didn't I, Mrs. Stevens?&mdash;'That was in the house,' I said."
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you think he had a revolver with him?" she said in a hushed voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who?" said Elsie excitedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on
+him, 'You're a bad lot, my man!' That's what I said, Elsie. Even before
+he spoke to me. Rude!" She turned to her aunt. "Well, I give you my
+word."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone
+from Australia." Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather
+rapidly. "I wouldn't go out of this room now, not if you paid me a
+hundred thousand pounds."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Mrs. Stevens!" said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for a
+new pair of shoes, "I wouldn't go as far as that, not myself, but&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"There!" cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older
+woman's chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Listen!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+They heard a man's voice, loud, angry.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Open the door!" it was shouting. "Open the door! I say, open the door!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't open the door!" cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was her
+door which was threatened. "Audrey! Elsie! Don't let him in!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Damn it, open the door!" came the voice again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We're all going to be murdered in our beds," she quavered. Terrified,
+the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens
+sat there, waiting.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+</h2>
+<p>
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view, but
+it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the subject of
+his early life. However, stories get about. There is always somebody
+who knows. It was understood&mdash;and this, anyhow, on Mark's own
+authority&mdash;that his father had been a country clergyman. It was said
+that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some
+rich old spinster of the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education,
+both at school and university. At about the time when he was coming down
+from Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few debts,
+as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons, as an
+example to his successor. Neither warning nor example seems to have been
+effective. Mark went to London, with an allowance from his patron, and
+(it is generally agreed) made acquaintance with the money-lenders.
+He was supposed, by his patron and any others who inquired, to be
+"writing"; but what he wrote, other than letters asking for more time
+to pay, has never been discovered. However, he attended the theatres
+and music halls very regularly&mdash;no doubt with a view to some serious
+articles in the "Spectator" on the decadence of the English stage.
+</p>
+<p>
+Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died during his third
+year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. From that moment
+his life loses its legendary character, and becomes more a matter of
+history. He settled accounts with the money-lenders, abandoned his
+crop of wild oats to the harvesting of others, and became in his turn a
+patron. He patronized the Arts. It was not only usurers who discovered
+that Mark Ablett no longer wrote for money; editors were now offered
+free contributions as well as free lunches; publishers were given
+agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the author paid
+all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young painters and
+poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour,
+playing host and "lead" with equal lavishness.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was not what most people call a snob. A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a mean
+lover of mean things&mdash;which would be a little unkind to the peerage if
+the first definition were true. Mark had his vanities undoubtedly, but
+he would sooner have met an actor-manager than an earl; he would have
+spoken of his friendship with Dante&mdash;had that been possible&mdash;more glibly
+than of his friendship with the Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but
+not the worst kind of snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not
+Society; a climber, but in the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+</p>
+<p>
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts. It also included Matthew Cayley,
+a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as limited as had
+been Mark's own before his patron had rescued him. He sent the Cayley
+cousin to school and Cambridge. His motives, no doubt, were unworldly
+enough at first; a mere repaying to his account in the Recording Angel's
+book of the generosity which had been lavished on himself; a laying-up
+of treasure in heaven. But it is probable that, as the boy grew up,
+Mark's designs for his future were based on his own interests as much
+as those of his cousin, and that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of
+twenty-three was felt by him to be a useful property for a man in his
+position; a man, that is to say, whose vanities left him so little time
+for his affairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin's affairs. By
+this time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable amount of
+land which went with it. Cayley superintended the necessary staff.
+His duties, indeed, were many. He was not quite secretary, not quite
+land-agent, not quite business-adviser, not quite companion, but
+something of all four. Mark leant upon him and called him "Cay,"
+objecting quite rightly in the circumstances to the name of Matthew.
+Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable; a big, heavy-jawed, solid
+fellow, who didn't bother you with unnecessary talk&mdash;a boon to a man who
+liked to do most of the talking himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which
+was his patron's age. Spasmodically they entertained a good deal at the
+Red House, and Mark's preference&mdash;call it kindliness or vanity, as
+you please&mdash;was for guests who were not in a position to repay his
+hospitality. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that
+breakfast, of which Stevens, the parlour-maid, has already given us a
+glimpse.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel
+trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural history
+articles for the papers. He inspected the dishes on the side-table,
+decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it. He had passed on
+to a sausage by the time of the next arrival. This was Bill Beverly, a
+cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, Major," he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It isn't gout," said the Major gruffly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, whatever it is."
+</p>
+<p>
+The Major grunted.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I make a point of being polite at breakfast," said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge. "Most people are so rude. That's why I
+asked you. But don't tell me if it's a secret. Coffee?" he added, as he
+poured himself out a cup.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, thanks. I never drink till I've finished eating."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite right, Major; it's only manners." He sat down opposite to the
+other. "Well, we've got a good day for our game. It's going to be dashed
+hot, but that's where Betty and I score. On the fifth green, your old
+wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in '43, will begin to
+trouble you; on the eighth, your liver, undermined by years of curry,
+will drop to pieces; on the twelfth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, shut up, you ass!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'm only warning you. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. I was
+just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him this
+morning. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own
+breakfast?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris. "I'll help myself. Good
+morning, Major." She smiled pleasantly at him. The Major nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good morning. Going to be hot."
+</p>
+<p>
+"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where&mdash;Hallo, here's Betty.
+Morning, Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the painter,
+who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris took
+herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as a
+golfer. She was quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society nor
+Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley, looking up
+from his letters. "You're lunching there, and driving back directly
+afterwards. Isn't that right?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't see why we shouldn't have&mdash;two rounds," said Bill hopefully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major. "Get back comfortably
+for tea."
+</p>
+<p>
+Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and sat down to
+toast and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The others chattered gently
+while he read his letters.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. "I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty."
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it herself,
+particularly at rehearsals.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, Cay!" He was frowning to himself&mdash;annoyed, puzzled. He held up a
+letter and shook it. "Who do you think this is from?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders. How could
+he possibly guess?
+</p>
+<p>
+"Robert," said Mark.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Robert?" It was difficult to surprise Cayley. "Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark peevishly.
+"He's coming here this afternoon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course. So did I." He looked across at Rumbold. "Got any brothers,
+Major?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not likely to now," said the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any brothers,
+Mr. Ablett?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"One," said Mark grimly. "If you're back in time you'll see him this
+afternoon. He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds. Don't."
+</p>
+<p>
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow from
+him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Like Robert," said Mark.
+</p>
+<p>
+"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it? You'd have been a boy, of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn't know if he had
+been back since."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. Not to my knowledge." Mark, still obviously upset, returned to his
+letter.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Personally," said Bill, "I think relations are a great mistake."
+</p>
+<p>
+"All the same," said Betty a little daringly, "it must be rather fun
+having a skeleton in the cupboard."
+</p>
+<p>
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you think it's fun, I'll hand him over to you, Betty. If he's
+anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have been&mdash;well,
+Cay knows."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley grunted.
+</p>
+<p>
+"All I knew was that one didn't ask questions about him."
+</p>
+<p>
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to ask
+more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely in
+front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere statement of
+fact. But the subject dropped, to be succeeded by the more fascinating
+one of the coming foursome. Mrs. Calladine was driving over with the
+players in order to lunch with an old friend who lived near the links,
+and Mark and Cayley were remaining at home&mdash;on affairs. Apparently
+"affairs" were now to include a prodigal brother. But that need not make
+the foursome less enjoyable.
+</p>
+<p>
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing
+his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their
+business at the Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of Antony
+Gillingham was handing up his ticket at Woodham station and asking the
+way to the village. Having received directions, he left his bag with the
+station-master and walked off leisurely. He is an important person to
+this story, so that it is as well we should know something about him
+before letting him loose in it. Let us stop him at the top of the hill
+on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking
+than we are. Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually
+associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem
+to be absorbing every detail of our person. To strangers this look is
+almost alarming at first, until they discover that his mind is very
+often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left his eyes on guard, while
+he himself follows a train of thought in another direction. Many people
+do this, of course; when, for instance, they are talking to one person
+and trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them. Antony's
+never did.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never as a
+sailor. When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother's money,
+400 pounds a year, old Gillingham looked up from the "Stockbreeders'
+Gazette" to ask what he was going to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+"See the world," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper. Antony was a younger son, and,
+on the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets of certain
+other families; Champion Birket's, for instance. But, then, Champion
+Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London. His
+idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people; and to
+see them from as many angles as possible. There are all sorts in London
+if you know how to look at them. So Antony looked at them&mdash;from
+various strange corners; from the view-point of the valet, the
+newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the shop-assistant. With the
+independence of 400 pounds a year behind him, he enjoyed it immensely.
+He never stayed long in one job, and generally closed his connection
+with it by telling his employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood
+between master and servant) exactly what he thought of him. He had
+no difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and
+testimonials he offered his personality and a sporting bet. He would
+take no wages the first month, and&mdash;if he satisfied his employer&mdash;double
+wages the second. He always got his double wages.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was now thirty. He had come to Waldheim for a holiday, because
+he liked the look of the station. His ticket entitled him to travel
+further, but he had always intended to please himself in the matter.
+Waldheim attracted him, and he had a suit-case in the carriage with him
+and money in his pocket. Why not get out?
+</p>
+<p>
+The landlady of 'The George' was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but don't give yourself any trouble about it. Cold
+anything-you've-got."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about beef, sir?" she asked, as if she had a hundred varieties of
+meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That will do splendidly. And a pint of beer."
+</p>
+<p>
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about the
+luggage. Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It must be rather fun to keep a country inn," he said, thinking that it
+was about time he started another profession.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know about fun, sir. It gives us a living, and a bit over."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You ought to take a holiday," said Antony, looking at him thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Funny thing your saying that," said the landlord, with a smile.
+"Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday. Offered to take my place 'n all." He laughed rumblingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Red House? Not the Red House, Stanton?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's right, sir. Stanton's the next station to Waldheim. The Red
+House is about a mile from here&mdash;Mr. Ablett's."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed from "The Red
+House, Stanton," and signed "Bill."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good old Bill," he murmured to himself. "He's getting on."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist's shop.
+Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley on the
+other. Something about Bill, his youth and freshness, perhaps, attracted
+Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered, and an address given to
+which they were to be sent, he remembered that he had come across an
+aunt of Beverley's once at a country-house. Beverley and he met again
+a little later at a restaurant. Both of them were in evening-dress, but
+they did different things with their napkins, and Antony was the more
+polite of the two. However, he still liked Bill. So on one of his
+holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an introduction through a
+mutual friend. Beverley was a little inclined to be shocked when he was
+reminded of their previous meetings, but his uncomfortable feeling soon
+wore off, and he and Antony quickly became intimate. But Bill generally
+addressed him as "Dear Madman" when he happened to write.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and call
+upon his friend. Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite the
+lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but sufficiently clean
+and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of the
+house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant lawns the
+whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds....
+</p>
+<p>
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting, "Open
+the door, I say; open the door!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo!" said Antony in amazement.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
+</h2>
+<p>
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Can I help?" said Antony politely.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Something's happened," said Cayley. He was breathing quickly. "I heard
+a shot&mdash;it sounded like a shot&mdash;I was in the library. A loud bang&mdash;I
+didn't know what it was. And the door's locked." He rattled the handle
+again, and shook it. "Open the door!" he cried. "I say, Mark, what is
+it? Open the door!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony. "So why
+should he open it just because you ask him to?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door
+again. "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder to it. "Help
+me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Isn't there a window?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Window? Window?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"So much easier to break in a window," said Antony with a smile. He
+looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall,
+leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of fuss
+was being made about nothing. But then, he had not heard the shot.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Window&mdash;of course! What an idiot I am."
+</p>
+<p>
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive. Antony
+followed him. They ran along the front of the house, down a path to the
+left, and then to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front, the
+other close behind him. Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder and
+pulled up short.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Here," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which
+opened on to the lawns at the back of the house. But now they were
+closed. Antony couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement as he
+followed Cayley's example, and put his face close up to the glass. For
+the first time he wondered if there really had been a revolver shot in
+this mysterious room. It had all seemed so absurd and melodramatic from
+the other side of the door. But if there had been one shot, why should
+there not be two more?&mdash;at the careless fools who were pressing their
+noses against the panes, and asking for it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"My God, can you see it?" said Cayley in a shaking voice. "Down there.
+Look!"
+</p>
+<p>
+The next moment Antony saw it. A man was lying on the floor at the far
+end of the room, his back towards them. A man? Or the body of a man?
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know," the other whispered.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, we'd better go and see." He considered the windows for a moment.
+"I should think, if you put your weight into it, just where they join,
+they'll give all right. Otherwise, we can kick the glass in."
+</p>
+<p>
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it. The window gave,
+and they went into the room. Cayley walked quickly to the body, and
+dropped on his knees by it. For the moment he seemed to hesitate; then
+with an effort he put a hand on to its shoulder and pulled it over.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Robert Ablett."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" said Antony. "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more to
+himself than to the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother." He shuddered, and
+said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was Mark in the room too?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle. "I
+suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he came back to the
+body again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor. "Is he
+dead?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Help me," said Cayley simply.
+</p>
+<p>
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at it.
+Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not a pleasant
+sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for the man beside
+him, and a sudden remorse for the careless, easy way in which he had
+treated the affair. But then one always went about imagining that
+these things didn't happen&mdash;except to other people. It was difficult to
+believe in them just at first, when they happened to yourself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly. He meant, "Were you fond
+of him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hardly at all. Mark is my cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother I know
+best."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Your cousin?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead? I suppose he is. Will
+you&mdash;do you know anything about&mdash;about that sort of thing? Perhaps I'd
+better get some water."
+</p>
+<p>
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as Antony
+was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from which opened
+two more rooms. Cayley stepped into the passage, and opened the door on
+the right. The door from the office, through which he had gone, remained
+open. The door, at the end of the short passage was shut. Antony,
+kneeling by the body, followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had
+disappeared, kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but he was
+not conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was with the
+other man, sympathizing with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself, "but the
+feeling that you're doing something, when there's obviously nothing to
+be done, is a great comfort."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded. Cayley
+murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's face. Then he
+placed the handkerchief over it. A little sigh escaped Antony, a sigh of
+relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+</p>
+<p>
+"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police, doctors&mdash;I
+don't know. But you mustn't let me trespass on your kindness. Indeed, I
+should apologise for having trespassed so much already."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I came to see Beverley. He is an old friend of mine."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He's out playing golf. He will be back directly." Then, as if he had
+only just realized it, "They will all be back directly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I will stay if I can be of any help."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Please do. You see, there are women. It will be rather painful. If you
+would&mdash;" He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile, pathetic
+in so big and self-reliant a man. "Just your moral support, you know. It
+would be something."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course." Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully, "Well,
+then, I'll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the police."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The police? Y-yes." He looked doubtfully at the other. "I suppose&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony spoke frankly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now, look here, Mr.&mdash;er&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley. I'm Mark Ablett's cousin. I live with him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"My name's Gillingham. I'm sorry, I ought to have told you before. Well
+now, Mr. Cayley, we shan't do any good by pretending. Here's a man been
+shot&mdash;well, somebody shot him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He might have shot himself," mumbled Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, he might have, but he didn't. Or if he did, somebody was in the
+room at the time, and that somebody isn't here now. And that somebody
+took a revolver away with him. Well, the police will want to say a word
+about that, won't they?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I know what you're thinking, and believe me I do sympathize with
+you, but we can't be children about it. If your cousin Mark Ablett was
+in the room with this"&mdash;he indicated the body&mdash;"this man, then&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who said he was?" said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You did."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I was in the library. Mark went in&mdash;he may have come out again&mdash;I know
+nothing. Somebody else may have gone in&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, yes," said Antony patiently, as if to a little child. "You know
+your cousin; I don't. Let's agree that he had nothing to do with it. But
+somebody was in the room when this man was shot, and&mdash;well, the police
+will have to know. Don't you think&mdash;" He looked at the telephone. "Or
+would you rather I did it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+</p>
+<p>
+"May I&mdash;er&mdash;look round a bit?" Antony nodded towards the open door.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, do. Yes." He sat down and drew the telephone towards him. "You must
+make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham. You see, I've known Mark for a
+very long time. But, of course, you're quite right, and I'm merely being
+stupid." He took off the receiver.
+</p>
+<p>
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance with
+this "office," we are coming into it from the hall, through the door
+which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience, has been
+magically unlocked for us. As we stand just inside the door, the length
+of the room runs right and left; or, more accurately, to the right only,
+for the left-hand wall is almost within our reach. Immediately opposite
+to us, across the breadth of the room (some fifteen feet), is that other
+door, by which Cayley went out and returned a few minutes ago. In the
+right-hand wall, thirty feet away from us, are the French windows.
+Crossing the room and going out by the opposite door, we come into a
+passage, from which two rooms lead. The one on the right, into which
+Cayley went, is less than half the length of the office, a small, square
+room, which has evidently been used some time or other as a bedroom. The
+bed is no longer there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold taps, in
+a corner; chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers. The window
+faces the same way as the French windows in the next room; but anybody
+looking out of the bedroom window has his view on the immediate right
+shut off by the outer wall of the office, which projects, by reason of
+its greater length, fifteen feet further into the lawn.
+</p>
+<p>
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom. The three rooms
+together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used, perhaps, during
+the occupation of the previous owner, by some invalid, who could not
+manage the stairs, but allowed by Mark to fall into disuse, save for the
+living-room. At any rate, he never slept downstairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom, the
+room into which Cayley had been. The window was open, and he looked out
+at the well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful stretch of park
+beyond; and he felt very sorry for the owner of it all, who was now
+mixed up in so grim a business.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley thinks he did it," said Antony to himself. "That's obvious. It
+explains why he wasted so much time banging on the door. Why should
+he try to break a lock when it's so much easier to break a window?
+Of course he might just have lost his head; on the other hand, he
+might&mdash;well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a chance of getting
+away. The same about the police, and&mdash;oh, lots of things. Why, for
+instance, did we run all the way round the house in order to get to the
+windows? Surely there's a back way out through the hall. I must have a
+look later on."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to see
+Cayley in the doorway. He remained looking at him for a moment, asking
+himself a question. It was rather a curious question. He was asking
+himself why the door was open.
+</p>
+<p>
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained easily
+enough. But why had he expected the door to be shut? He did not remember
+shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see it open now, to see
+Cayley through the doorway, just coming into the room. Something working
+sub-consciously in his brain had told him that it was surprising. Why?
+</p>
+<p>
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment; the
+answer would come to him later on. He had a wonderfully retentive
+mind. Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make its corresponding
+impression somewhere in his brain; often without his being conscious of
+it; and these photographic impressions were always there ready for him
+when he wished to develop them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've telephoned," he said. "They're sending an inspector or some one
+from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from Stanton." He
+shrugged his shoulders. "We're in for it now."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How far away is Middleston?" It was the town for which Antony had taken
+a ticket that morning&mdash;only six hours ago. How absurd it seemed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"About twenty miles. These people will be coming back soon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Beverley, and the others?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. I expect they'll want to go away at once."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Much better that they should."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." Cayley was silent for a little. Then he said, "You're staying
+near here?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm at 'The George,' at Waldheim."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you're by yourself, I wish you'd put up here. You see," he went on
+awkwardly, "you'll have to be here&mdash;for the&mdash;the inquest and&mdash;and so
+on. If I may offer you my cousin's hospitality in his&mdash;I mean if he
+doesn't&mdash;if he really has&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's good. Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he's a friend of yours.
+He's a good fellow."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to
+say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn't
+follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally;
+and when they have gone off, people lose their heads and run away,
+fearing that their story will not be believed. Nevertheless, when people
+run away, whether innocently or guiltily, one can't help wondering which
+way they went.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself. "The murderer.
+Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
+killed."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, how else could he have got away? He didn't go by the windows in
+the next room, because they were shut."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Isn't that rather odd?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I thought so at first, but&mdash;" He pointed to the wall jutting out
+on the right. "You see, you're protected from the rest of the house if
+you get out here, and you're quite close to the shrubbery. If you go out
+at the French windows, I imagine you're much more visible. All that part
+of the house&mdash;" he waved his right hand&mdash;"the west, well, north-west
+almost, where the kitchen parts are&mdash;you see, you're hidden from them
+here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right
+to come out of this window. He'd be into the shrubbery at once."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well,
+considering that this is the first time you've been to it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I'm
+right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away&mdash;towards the shrubbery. "Do
+you want to go noticing in there now?" He nodded at it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
+"It's&mdash;well, there's no hurry."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the
+answer, and could now breathe again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
+</h2>
+<p>
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason&mdash;the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
+when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted
+to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little
+weakness of their host's, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill
+that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home
+comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs.
+Calladine, without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn't like it, was
+firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they should
+be back by four.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I really don't think Mark wants us, you know," said the Major. Having
+played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the
+afternoon that he was really better than that. "With this brother of his
+coming, he'll be only too glad to have us out of the way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course he will, Major." This from Bill. "You'd like to play,
+wouldn't you, Miss Norris?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn't keep you here.
+Besides, it's so dull for you, not playing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just nine holes, mother," pleaded Betty.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were
+having another round, and then it could come back for us," said Bill
+brilliantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's certainly much cooler here than I expected," put in the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the golf-house,
+and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them out of the way. So
+she consented to nine holes; and the match having ended all-square, and
+everybody having played much better than in the morning, they drove back
+to the Red House, very well pleased with themselves.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Halo," said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, "isn't that
+old Tony?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill waved,
+and he waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in front with
+the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?" He had a sudden
+idea. "Don't say you're Mark Ablett's long-lost brother from Australia,
+though I could quite believe it of you." He laughed boyishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, Bill," said Antony quietly. "Will you introduce me? I'm afraid
+I've got some bad news."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in
+a low voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said. "Robert
+Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed." He jerked a thumb
+over his shoulder. "In the house."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good God!" said the Major.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you mean that he has killed himself?" asked Mrs. Calladine. "Just
+now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,"&mdash;he half-turned
+to Beverley and explained&mdash;"I was coming to see you, Bill, and I arrived
+just after the&mdash;the death. Mr. Cayley and I found the body. Mr. Cayley
+being busy just now&mdash;there are police and doctors and so on in the
+house&mdash;he asked me to tell you. He says that no doubt you would prefer,
+the house-party having been broken up in this tragic way, to leave as
+soon as possible." He gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went
+on, "I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you
+must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make
+your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish
+to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which you could go by
+if you wished it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary
+to express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had
+already used. Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying, "Who's
+killed?" in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was instinctively
+looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a messenger announced
+the death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain.
+Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand," she said; "but we
+can't just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because something
+terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can arrange later
+what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps we&mdash;"
+she hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Major and I might be useful anyway," said Bill. "Isn't that what
+you mean, Mrs. Calladine?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked back unwaveringly&mdash;and said nothing.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, "that
+it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very well," she agreed quietly. "You will come with us, Ruth?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll see you safely there," said Bill in a meek voice. He didn't quite
+know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the Red House
+for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London seemed
+to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony
+alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley wants you to stay, Bill. You have to go anyhow, to-morrow, Major
+Rumbold?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not hesitate
+to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard any
+telephoning or telegraphing that you want done." He smiled again and
+added, "Please forgive me if I seem to have taken a good deal upon
+myself, but I just happened to be handy as a mouthpiece for Cayley." He
+bowed to them and went into the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well!" said Miss Norris dramatically.
+</p>
+<p>
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was just
+crossing into the library with Cayley. The latter stopped and nodded to
+Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Wait a moment, Inspector. Here's Mr. Gillingham. He'd better come with
+us." And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch."
+</p>
+<p>
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit. I like
+to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We all do."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" He looked at Antony with interest. "D'you know where you are in
+this case?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know where I'm going to be."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where's that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Put through it by Inspector Birch," said Antony with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector laughed genially.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll spare you as much as I can. Come along."
+</p>
+<p>
+They went into the library. The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it. Antony made
+himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be interested.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We'll start with the dead man," said the Inspector. "Robert Ablett,
+didn't you say?" He took out his notebook.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah!" He began to sharpen a pencil. "Staying in the house?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew
+about Robert. This was news to him. "I see. Sent out of the country in
+disgrace. What had he done?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I hardly know. I was only about twelve at the time. The sort of age
+when you're told not to ask questions."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Inconvenient questions?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So you don't really know whether he had been merely wild or&mdash;or
+wicked?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman," added Cayley. "Perhaps what might
+seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the world."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I daresay, Mr. Cayley," smiled the Inspector. "Anyhow, it was more
+convenient to have him in Australia?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark Ablett never talked about him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and&mdash;well, very glad he
+was in Australia."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did he write Mark sometimes?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Asking for money?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Something of the sort. I don't think Mark always answered them. As far
+as I know, he never sent any money."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was
+unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They'd never liked each other as boys. There was never any affection
+between them. I don't know whose fault it was in the first place&mdash;if
+anybody's."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Still, Mark might have given him a hand?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I understand," said Cayley, "that Robert spent his whole life asking
+for hands."
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know that sort. Well, now, we'll go on to this morning. This letter
+that Mark got&mdash;did you see it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Any address?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where is it now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. In Mark's pocket, I expect."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah!" He pulled at his beard. "Well, we'll come to that. Can you
+remember what it said?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"As far as I remember, something like this: 'Mark, your loving brother
+is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you
+warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I
+hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah!" The inspector copied it down carefully. "Did you notice the
+postmark?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"London."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And what was Mark's attitude?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Annoyance, disgust&mdash;" Cayley hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Apprehension?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant interview,
+not of any unpleasant outcome for himself."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean that he wasn't afraid of violence, or blackmail, or anything
+of that sort?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He didn't appear to be."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o'clock?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, about that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who was in the house then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don't know which. Of
+course, you will ask them directly, no doubt."
+</p>
+<p>
+"With your permission. No guests?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley. "Oh, by the
+way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see
+them at all? It isn't very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I
+suggested&mdash;" he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. "I understand
+that they want to go back to London this evening. There's no objection
+to that, I suppose?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him
+later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all right, Mr. Cayley. Well, now then, let's go back to three
+o'clock. Where were you when Robert arrived?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey had
+asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he had last
+seen him going up to the Temple.
+</p>
+<p>
+"She went away, and I went on with my book. There was a step on the
+stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down. He went into the
+office, and I went on with my book again. I went into the library for
+a moment, to refer to another book, and when I was in there I heard a
+shot. At least, it was a loud bang, I wasn't sure if it was a shot. I
+stood and listened. Then I came slowly to the door and looked out. Then
+I went back again, hesitated a bit, you know, and finally decided to go
+across to the office, and make sure that it was all right. I turned the
+handle of the door and found it was locked. Then I got frightened, and I
+banged at the door, and shouted, and&mdash;well, that was when Mr. Gillingham
+arrived." He went on to explain how they had found the body.
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley. Mr.
+Mark, now. You thought he was in the Temple. Could he have come in, and
+gone up to his room, without your seeing him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"There are back stairs. He wouldn't have used them in the ordinary way,
+of course. But I wasn't in the hall all the afternoon. He might easily
+have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So that you weren't surprised when you saw him coming down?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, not a bit."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, did he say anything?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He said, 'Robert's here?' or something of the sort. I suppose he'd
+heard the bell, or the voices in the hall."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Which way does his bedroom face? Could he have seen him coming down the
+drive?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He might have, yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, I said 'Yes,' and he gave a sort of shrug, and said, 'Don't
+go too far away, I might want you'; and then went in."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did you think he meant by that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, he consults me a good deal, you know. I'm his sort of unofficial
+solicitor in a kind of way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes. That's how he regarded it, I'm sure."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. How long was it before you heard the shot?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very soon. Two minutes, perhaps."
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully. Suddenly he said:
+</p>
+<p>
+"What is your theory of Robert's death?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You've probably seen more than I've seen," he answered. "It's your job.
+I can only speak as a layman&mdash;and Mark's friend."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing
+a revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get
+it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark
+lost his head, finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and
+a dead man at his feet. His one idea was to escape. He locked the door
+almost instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went
+out of the window."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I should hardly call it 'reasonable' to lose your head," said Antony,
+getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you know what I mean. It explains things."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more complicated."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Have you any other explanation?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not I."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?&mdash;anything that he left out after you arrived here?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, thanks. He described it all very accurately."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah! Well now, about yourself. You're not staying in the house, I
+gather?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Did you hear the shot?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. "Yes. Just as I came
+in sight of the house. It didn't make any impression at the time, but I
+remember it now."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where were you then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nobody," he said. "No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're certain of that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Absolutely," said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could be
+suspected of a mistake.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you. You're at 'The George,' if I want you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest," explained
+Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good. Well now, about these servants?"
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+</h2>
+<p>
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you won't want me, I suppose, inspector," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You'll be about, of course?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone.
+You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get
+alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel
+rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr. Gillingham
+very kindly&mdash;" He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the door, and
+left his sentence unfinished.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah, that reminds me," said the Inspector. "Didn't you say that one of
+your guests&mdash;Mr. Beverley was it?&mdash;a friend of Mr. Gillingham's, was
+staying on?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; would you like to see him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Afterwards, if I may."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a room
+upstairs where I work&mdash;any of the servants will show you. Ah, Stevens,
+Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir," said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering. The
+housekeeper's room had heard something of the news by this time, and
+Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff
+exactly what he had said, and what she had said. The details were not
+quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that Mr.
+Mark's brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and that
+Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she opened
+the door to him. She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens. And Mrs.
+Stevens&mdash;if you remember, Audrey&mdash;had always said that people didn't go
+away to Australia except for very good reasons. Elsie agreed with both
+of them, but she had a contribution of her own to make. She had actually
+heard Mr. Mark in the office, threatening his brother.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean Mr. Robert," said the second parlour-maid. She had been having
+a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang. In fact, it had
+woken her up&mdash;just like something going off, it was.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was Mr. Mark's voice," said Elsie firmly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Pleading for mercy," said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully from the
+door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she had not
+given her presence away. But it was hard to listen in silence when she
+knew so well from her novelettes just what happened on these occasions.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind," said Mrs. Stevens.
+"Well, Elsie?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, 'It's my turn now,' he
+said, triumphant-like."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, if you think that's a threat, dear, you're very particular, I
+must say."
+</p>
+<p>
+But Audrey remembered Elsie's words when she was in front of Inspector
+Birch. She gave her own evidence with the readiness of one who had
+already repeated it several times, and was examined and cross-examined
+by the Inspector with considerable skill. The temptation to say, "Never
+mind about what you said to him," was strong, but he resisted it,
+knowing that in this way he would discover best what he said to her. By
+this time both his words and the looks he gave her were getting their
+full value from Audrey, but the general meaning of them seemed to be
+well-established.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then you didn't see Mr. Mark at all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room. Or come
+in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by the back."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Well, I think that's all that I want to know, thank you very much.
+Now what about the other servants?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together," said Audrey
+eagerly. "He was saying&mdash;Mr. Mark, I mean&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah! Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself. Who is Elsie,
+by the way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"One of the housemaids. Shall I send her to you, sir?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Please."
+</p>
+<p>
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message. It interrupted a few remarks
+from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie's conduct that afternoon which were (Elsie
+thought) much better interrupted. In Mrs. Stevens' opinion any crime
+committed that afternoon in the office was as nothing to the double
+crime committed by the unhappy Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have said
+nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon. She was bad at
+concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering it. Elsie
+knew perfectly well that she had no business to come down the front
+stairs, and it was no excuse to say that she happened to come out of
+Miss Norris' room just at the head of the stairs, and didn't think it
+would matter, as there was nobody in the hall, and what was she doing
+anyhow in Miss Norris' room at that time? Returning a magazine? Lent by
+Miss Norris, might she ask? Well, not exactly lent. Really, Elsie!&mdash;and
+this in a respectable house! In vain for poor Elsie to plead that
+a story by her favourite author was advertised on the cover, with a
+picture of the villain falling over the cliff. "That's where you'll go
+to, my girl, if you aren't careful," said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+</p>
+<p>
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch. All that interested him was that she was passing
+through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And stopped to listen?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Certainly not," said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody really
+understood her. "I was just passing through the hall, just as you might
+have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets, didn't
+think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done." And she
+sniffed slightly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come, come," said the Inspector soothingly, "I didn't mean to
+suggest&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Everyone is very unkind to me," said Elsie between sniffs, "and there's
+that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they'd have been, if it had
+been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this day."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nonsense, we're going to be very proud of you. I shouldn't be surprised
+if your evidence were of very great importance. Now then, what was it
+you heard? Try to remember the exact words."
+</p>
+<p>
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but who said it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mr. Robert."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you know it was Mr. Robert? Had you heard his voice before?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance with
+Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn't Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr. Cayley, nor
+any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown Mr. Robert into
+the office not five minutes before&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite so," said the Inspector hurriedly. "Mr. Robert, undoubtedly.
+Working in a passage?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That was what it sounded like, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"H'm. Working a passage over&mdash;could that have been it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's right, sir," said Elsie eagerly. "He'd worked his passage over."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"And then Mr. Mark said loudly&mdash;sort of triumphant-like&mdash;'It's my turn
+now. You wait.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Triumphantly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"As much as to say his chance had come."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And that's all you heard?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all, sir&mdash;not standing there listening, but just passing through
+the hall, as it might be any time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Well, that's really very important, Elsie. Thank you."
+</p>
+<p>
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen. She was
+ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own. There was a
+point which was puzzling him. He went through the hall to the front of
+the house and stood at the open door, looking out on to the drive. He
+and Cayley had run round the house to the left. Surely it would have
+been quicker to have run round to the right? The front door was not in
+the middle of the house, it was to the end. Undoubtedly they went the
+longest way round. But perhaps there was something in the way, if one
+went to the right&mdash;a wall, say. He strolled off in that direction,
+followed a path round the house and came in sight of the office windows.
+Quite simple, and about half the distance of the other way. He went on
+a little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in windows.
+It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage. At the end of the
+passage was another door. He opened it and found himself in the hall
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And, of course, that's the quickest way of the three," he said to
+himself. "Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left and
+there you are. Instead of which, we ran the longest way round the house.
+Why? Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape? Only, in that
+case&mdash;why run? Also, how did Cayley know then that it was Mark who
+was trying to escape? If he had guessed&mdash;well, not guessed, but been
+afraid&mdash;that one had shot the other, it was much more likely that Robert
+had shot Mark. Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought.
+The first thing he had said when he turned the body over was, 'Thank
+God! I was afraid it was Mark.' But why should he want to give Robert
+time in which to get away? And again&mdash;why run, if he did want to give
+him time?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and sat
+down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then," he said, "let's go through Cayley's mind carefully, and see
+what we get."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office. The
+servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his book.
+Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case he is
+wanted, and goes to meet his brother. What does Cayley expect? Possibly
+that he won't be wanted at all; possibly that his advice may be wanted
+in the matter, say, of paying Robert's debts, or getting him a passage
+back to Australia; possibly that his physical assistance may be wanted
+to get an obstreperous Robert out of the house. Well, he sits there for
+a moment, and then goes into the library. Why not? He is still within
+reach, if wanted. Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot. A pistol-shot is the
+last noise you expect to hear in a country-house; very natural, then,
+that for the moment he would hardly realize what it was. He listens&mdash;and
+hears nothing more. Perhaps it wasn't a pistol-shot after all. After a
+moment or two he goes to the library door again. The profound silence
+makes him uneasy now. Was it a pistol-shot? Absurd! Still&mdash;no harm in
+going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure himself. So he
+tries the door&mdash;and finds it locked!
+</p>
+<p>
+What are his emotions now? Alarm, uncertainty. Something is happening.
+Incredible though it seems, it must have been a pistol-shot. He is
+banging at the door and calling out to Mark, and there is no answer.
+Alarm&mdash;yes. But alarm for whose safety? Mark's, obviously. Robert is a
+stranger; Mark is an intimate friend. Robert has written a letter that
+morning, the letter of a man in a dangerous temper. Robert is the tough
+customer; Mark the highly civilized gentleman. If there has been a
+quarrel, it is Robert who has shot Mark. He bangs at the door again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley's conduct
+had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment, Cayley had lost
+his head. Anybody else might have done the same. But, as soon as Antony
+suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw that that was the obvious thing
+to do. So he leads the way to the windows&mdash;the longest way.
+</p>
+<p>
+Why? To give the murderer time to escape? If he had thought then that
+Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes. But he thinks that Robert is the
+murderer. If he is not hiding anything, he must think so. Indeed he says
+so, when he sees the body; "I was afraid it was Mark," he says, when he
+finds that it is Robert who is killed. No reason, then, for wishing to
+gain time. On the contrary, every instinct would urge him to get into
+the room as quickly as possible, and seize the wicked Robert. Yet he
+goes the longest way round. Why? And then, why run?
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's the question," said Antony to himself, as he filled his pipe,
+"and bless me if I know the answer. It may be, of course, that Cayley is
+just a coward. He was in no hurry to get close to Robert's revolver, and
+yet wanted me to think that he was bursting with eagerness. That would
+explain it, but then that makes Cayley out a coward. Is he? At any rate
+he pushed his face up against the window bravely enough. No, I want a
+better answer than that."
+</p>
+<p>
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking. There were one
+or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be taken out
+and looked at. For the moment he left them undisturbed. They would come
+back to him later when he wanted them.
+</p>
+<p>
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I was wanting a new profession," he thought, "and now I've found it.
+Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound. I shall begin to-day."
+</p>
+<p>
+Whatever Antony Gillingham's other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and quickly.
+And this clear brain of his had already told him that he was the only
+person in the house at that moment who was unhandicapped in the search
+for truth. The inspector had arrived in it to find a man dead and a man
+missing. It was extremely probable, no doubt, that the missing man
+had shot the dead man. But it was more than extremely probable, it was
+almost certain that the Inspector would start with the idea that this
+extremely probable solution was the one true solution, and that, in
+consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without prejudice any
+other solution. As regards all the rest of them&mdash;Cayley, the guests,
+the servants&mdash;they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark (or possibly,
+for all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against, each other;
+they had formed some previous opinion, from what had been said that
+morning, of the sort of man Robert was. No one of them could consider
+the matter with an unbiased mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Antony could. He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about
+Robert. He had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead man
+was. He knew that a tragedy had happened before he knew that anybody was
+missing. Those first impressions, which are so vitally important, had
+been received solely on the merits of the case; they were founded on the
+evidence of his senses, not on the evidence of his emotions or of other
+people's senses. He was in a much better position for getting at the
+truth than was the Inspector.
+</p>
+<p>
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector Birch
+a slight injustice. Birch was certainly prepared to believe that Mark
+had shot his brother. Robert had been shown into the office (witness
+Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert (witness Cayley); Mark and Robert
+had been heard talking (witness Elsie); there was a shot (witness
+everybody); the room had been entered and Robert's body had been found
+(witness Cayley and Gillingham). And Mark was missing. Obviously,
+then, Mark had killed his brother: accidentally, as Cayley believed, or
+deliberately, as Elsie's evidence seemed to suggest. There was no point
+in looking for a difficult solution to a problem, when the easy solution
+had no flaw in it. But at the same time Birch would have preferred the
+difficult solution, simply because there was more credit attached to
+it. A "sensational" arrest of somebody in the house would have given him
+more pleasure than a commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett across
+country. Mark must be found, guilty or not guilty. But there were other
+possibilities. It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the
+time when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector,
+the Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon
+the possibilities in connection with Mr. Gillingham. Was it only a
+coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did? And Mr.
+Beverley's curious answers when asked for some account of his friend.
+An assistant in a tobacconist's, a waiter! An odd man, Mr. Gillingham,
+evidently. It might be as well to keep an eye on him.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
+</h2>
+<p>
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different
+manner. The Major, gruff and simple: "If you want me, command me.
+Anything I can do&mdash;Good-bye"; Betty, silently sympathetic, with
+everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell;
+Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know what to say, but
+apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into one
+despairing gesture that Cayley's unvarying "Thank you very much" might
+have been taken this time as gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with a
+special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to join
+Antony on his garden seat.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, this is a rum show," said Bill as he sat down.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very rum, William."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And you actually walked right into it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right into it," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then you're the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn't keep to the
+point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but
+kept asking me questions about where I'd met you first, and all sorts of
+dull things like that. Now, what really happened?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told
+the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate
+"Good Lords" and whistles.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, it's a bit of a business, isn't it? Where do I come in,
+exactly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through it
+by that inspector as if I knew all about it&mdash;what's the idea?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smiled at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, there's nothing to worry about, you know. Naturally Birch wanted
+to see one of you so as to know what you'd all been doing all day. And
+Cayley was nice enough to think that you'd be company for me, as I knew
+you already. And well, that's all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're staying here, in the house?" said Bill eagerly. "Good man.
+That's splendid."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It reconciles you to the departure of some of the others?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway," he murmured.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I congratulate you. I liked her looks. And that grey dress. A nice
+comfortable sort of woman."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You fool, that's her mother."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she does
+just now. So try and put up with me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, do you really?" said Bill, rather flattered. He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. You see, things are going to happen here soon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Inquests and that sort of thing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, perhaps something before that. Hallo, here comes Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big, heavy-shouldered
+man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly faces which can never
+quite be called plain. "Bad luck on Cayley," said Bill. "I say, ought
+I to tell him how sorry I am and all that sort of thing? It seems so
+dashed inadequate."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shouldn't bother," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We can make room for you," said Bill, getting up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, don't bother, thanks. I just came to say," he went on to Antony,
+"that naturally they've rather lost their heads in the kitchen,
+and dinner won't be till half-past eight. Do just as you like about
+dressing, of course. And what about your luggage?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see about
+it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the station."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow, to
+pack up and pay my bill. Besides, it's a good evening for a walk. If you
+wouldn't mind it, Bill?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I should love it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I'll send the car round for it
+later."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks very much."
+</p>
+<p>
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay. Antony wondered
+whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon's happenings, or whether
+it was the one subject he wished to avoid. To break the silence he asked
+carelessly if the Inspector had gone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley nodded. Then he said abruptly, "He's getting a warrant for Mark's
+arrest."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug
+of the shoulders, "Well, he was bound to do that, wasn't he? It doesn't
+follow that&mdash;well, it doesn't mean anything. They naturally want to get
+hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?" said Cayley, looking at him
+steadily.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark? It's absurd," said Bill impetuously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bill's loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly. So perhaps I might be too frank."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the
+seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his
+hands, gazing at the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I want you to be quite frank," he said at last. "Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned. So I want to know how my suggestion
+strikes you who have no prejudices either way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Your suggestion?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely accidental as
+I told the Inspector."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked up with interest.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean that Robert did the hold-up business," he said, "and there was
+a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then Mark lost his
+head and bolted? That sort of idea?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that seems all right." He turned to Antony. "There's nothing
+wrong with that, is there? It's the most natural explanation to anyone
+who knows Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose it is," he said slowly. "But there's one thing that worries
+me rather."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's that?" Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The key."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The key?" said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony. "What about the key?" he
+asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered. Suppose Robert was
+killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought of nothing
+but getting away before anyone could see him. Well, very likely
+he'd lock the door and put the key in his pocket. He'd do it without
+thinking, just to gain a moment's time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's what I suggest."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It seems sound enough," said Bill. "Sort of thing you'd do without
+thinking. Besides, if you are going to run away, it gives you more of a
+chance."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's all right if the key is there. But suppose it isn't there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact, startled
+them both. They looked at him wonderingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What do you mean?" said Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's just a question of where people happen to keep their keys.
+You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your door in
+case anybody comes wandering in when you've only got one sock and a pair
+of braces on. Well, that's natural enough. And if you look round the
+bedrooms of almost any house, you'll find the keys all ready, so that
+you can lock yourself in at a moment's notice. But downstairs people
+don't lock themselves in. It's really never done at all. Bill, for
+instance, has never locked himself into the dining-room in order to be
+alone with the sherry. On the other hand, all women, and particularly
+servants, have a horror of burglars. And if a burglar gets in by the
+window, they like to limit his activities to that particular room. So
+they keep the, keys on the outside of the doors, and lock the doors when
+they go to bed." He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and added, "At
+least, my mother always used to."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean," said Bill excitedly, "that the key was on the outside of the
+door when Mark went into the room?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I was just wondering."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Have you noticed the other rooms the billiard-room, and library, and so
+on?" said Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've only just thought about it while I've been sitting out here. You
+live here haven't you ever noticed them?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can't say that I have." He
+turned to Bill. "Have you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord, no. I should never worry about a thing like that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," laughed Antony. "Well, we can have a look when
+we go in. If the other keys are outside, then this one was probably
+outside too, and in that case well, it makes it more interesting."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley said nothing. Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said, "Does
+it make much difference?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there. Take your
+accidental theory and see where you get to. No instinctive turning of
+the key now, is there? He's got to open the door to get it, and opening
+the door means showing his head to anybody in the hall&mdash;his cousin, for
+instance, whom he left there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark's state
+of mind, frightened to death lest he should be found with the body,
+going to do anything so foolhardy as that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He needn't have been afraid of me," said Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then why didn't he call for you? He knew you were about. You could
+have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice. But the whole theory
+of Mark's escape is that he was afraid of you and of everybody else,
+and that he had no other idea but to get out of the room himself, and
+prevent you or the servants from coming into it. If the key had been on
+the inside, he would probably have locked the door. If it were on the
+outside, he almost certainly wouldn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I expect you're right," said Bill thoughtfully. "Unless he took
+the key in with him, and locked the door at once."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly. But in that case you have to build up a new theory entirely."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; that, certainly. But it also seems to make Mark out an absolute
+idiot. Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons which neither
+of you know anything about, he had wished to get rid of his brother.
+Would he have done it like that? Just killed him and then run away? Why,
+that's practically suicide&mdash;suicide whilst of unsound mind. No. If you
+really wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a little
+bit more cleverly than that. You'd begin by treating him as a friend, so
+as to avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at last, you would try
+to make it look like an accident, or suicide, or the work of some other
+man. Wouldn't you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean you'd give yourself a bit of a run for your money?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's what I mean. If you were going to do it deliberately, that
+is to say and lock yourself in before you began."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea. With his
+eyes still on the ground, he said now: "I hold to my opinion that it was
+purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head and ran away."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But what about the key?" asked Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We don't know yet that the keys were outside. I don't at all agree with
+Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms are always outside
+the doors. Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I think we shall probably
+find that these are inside."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory
+is probably the correct one. Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered that's all. You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and tell
+you what I thought. But no doubt you're right, and we shall find them
+inside, as you say.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Even if the key was outside," went on Cayley stubbornly, "I still
+think it might have been accidental. He might have taken it in with him,
+knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and not wishing
+to be interrupted."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out? Besides, I should think that if a man were going
+to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation, the last
+thing he would do would be to barricade himself in with him. He would
+want to open all the doors and say, 'Get out of it'"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate. Antony gave a little
+apologetic laugh and stood up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, come on, Bill," he said; "we ought to be stepping." He held out a
+hand and pulled his friend up. Then, turning to Cayley, he went on, "You
+must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on rather. Of course, I
+was considering the matter purely as an outsider; just as a problem, I
+mean, which didn't concern the happiness of any of my friends."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all right, Mr. Gillingham," said Cayley, standing up too. "It
+is for you to make allowances for me. I'm sure you will. You say that
+you're going up to the inn now about your bag?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland stretching
+about the house. "Let me see; it's over in that direction, isn't it?" He
+pointed southwards. "Can we get to the village that way, or must we go
+by the road?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll show you, my boy," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bill will show you. The park reaches almost as far as the village. Then
+I'll send the car round in about half an hour."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks very much."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house. Antony took hold of
+Bill's arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
+</h2>
+<p>
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and
+gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park
+dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A thick
+belt of trees on the left divided them from the main road.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rather. Dozens of times."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I meant just here where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and play
+billiards all the time?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh Lord, no!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks never by
+any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the dusty
+road think how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine them doing
+all sorts of jolly things inside." He pointed to the right. "Ever been
+over there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, not very much. I've often been along here, of course, because
+it's the short way to the village."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What sort of things?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners for Men,
+and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying with him,
+and how many rows your little house-party has had this week, and how you
+get on with Cayley, and all the rest of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What fun! I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one oughtn't
+to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and one's host&mdash;"
+He broke off a little uncertainly, and then rounded off his period by
+saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show it is. Good Lord!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?" said Antony. "Carry on, Mark"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What do I think of him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had
+never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind. What did he
+think of Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken down
+by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split infinitive or two.
+Talk about anything you like, how you like. Well, I'll give you a start.
+Which do you enjoy more a week-end here or at the Barrington's, say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well; of course, that would depend&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Take it that she was there in both cases."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs. "It's a little
+difficult to say," he went on. "Of course they do you awfully well
+here."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't think I know any house where things are so comfortable. One's
+room&mdash;the food&mdash;drinks&mdash;cigars&mdash;the way everything's arranged: All that
+sort of thing. They look after you awfully well."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a new
+idea: "They look after you awfully well. Well, that's just what it is
+about Mark. That's one of his little ways. Weaknesses. Looking after
+you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Arranging things for you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Of course, it's a delightful house, and there's plenty to do, and
+opportunities for every game or sport that's ever been invented, and,
+as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony, there's
+a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is on parade, as it were.
+You've got to do as you're told."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
+things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with the
+arrangement. For instance, Betty&mdash;Miss Calladine&mdash;and I were going to
+play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She's frightfully
+hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I'm rather
+erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us
+what we were going to do. Well, he'd got up a little tournament for
+us after tea&mdash;handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out
+neatly in red and black ink&mdash;prizes and all&mdash;quite decent ones, you
+know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
+Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
+ready to play again after tea&mdash;I had to give her half-fifteen according
+to his handicap&mdash;but somehow&mdash;" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It didn't quite fit in?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
+a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
+"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Really, Bill?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
+see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
+she never comes here again."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We were all in it, really&mdash;at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
+to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
+her?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
+of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
+believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and
+yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in ghosts
+at all. Rum chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris&mdash;she's an actress, some
+actress too&mdash;dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And poor
+Mark was frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about the others?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her&mdash;Miss Norris I mean&mdash;not
+to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn't there&mdash;Betty
+wouldn't let her be. As for the Major, I don't believe anything would
+frighten him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where did the ghost appear?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Down by the bowling-green. That's supposed to be its haunt, you know.
+We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
+you know the bowling-green?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll show it to you after dinner."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he's just like that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was he angry with all of you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"This morning?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no. He got over it he generally does. He's just like a child.
+That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways. As a matter of
+fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And yesterday."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yesterday?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather. We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is he generally in form?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
+He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
+self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and&mdash;" Bill broke off
+suddenly. "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
+host like this."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
+with a warrant out against him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's the fact, Bill."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it. He wouldn't murder anybody. It's a
+funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it. He's got his
+faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
+</p>
+<p>
+"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. "All the same," he
+said, "I can't believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
+run away?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill considered for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
+the ghost. Of course, that's different, rather."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I don't know. In each case it's a question of obeying your instinct
+instead of your reason."
+</p>
+<p>
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
+behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
+the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently down to
+the village of Waldheim a few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of
+a church showing above the green.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, now," said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, "what about
+Cayley?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you mean, what about him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You
+were wonderful. Now let's have Cayley's character. Cayley from within."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a
+blooming novelist.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy. Cayley's one of these heavy, quiet
+people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself
+away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Some women like that type of ugliness."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's true. Between ourselves, I think there's one here who does.
+Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left hand "down that
+way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's Jallands?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss
+Norbury&mdash;the girl&mdash;has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to
+prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn't much time for
+that sort of thing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What sort of thing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to any
+theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark kept him busy?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something
+for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily
+enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He was fond of him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He'd sized Mark up,
+of course his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all
+the rest of it but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to manage
+him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests&mdash;you and Miss
+Norris and all of them?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself. We
+didn't see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to enjoy
+ourselves, and well, he wasn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He wasn't there when the ghost walked?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I
+expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls
+will be girls....&mdash;Hallo, here we are."
+</p>
+<p>
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to the
+landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room. It appeared that he had not
+very much packing to do, after all. He returned his brushes to his bag,
+glanced sound to see that nothing else had been taken out, and went down
+again to settle his bill. He had decided to keep on his room for a few
+days; partly to save the landlord and his wife the disappointment of
+losing a guest so suddenly, partly in case he found it undesirable later
+on to remain at the Red House. For he was taking himself seriously as a
+detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while getting all the fun
+out of it which was possible) at every new profession he adopted; and he
+felt that there might come a time after the inquest, say when he could
+not decently remain at the Red House as a guest, a friend of Bill's,
+enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley, whichever was to be regarded
+as his host, without forfeiting his independent attitude towards the
+events of that afternoon. At present he was staying in the house merely
+as a necessary witness, and, since he was there, Cayley could not object
+to him using his eyes; but if, after the inquest, it appeared that there
+was still work for a pair of independent and very keen eyes to do, then
+he must investigate, either with his host's approval or from beneath the
+roof of some other host; the landlord of 'The George,' for instance, who
+had no feelings in the matter.
+</p>
+<p>
+For of one thing Antony was certain. Cayley knew more than he professed
+to know. That is to say, he knew more than he wanted other people to
+know he knew. Antony was one of the "other people"; if, therefore, he
+was for trying to find out what it was that Cayley knew, he could hardly
+expect Cayley's approval of his labours. It would be 'The George,' then,
+for Antony after the inquest.
+</p>
+<p>
+What was the truth? Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even though
+he were hiding something. All that could be said against him at the
+moment was that he had gone the longest way round to get into the locked
+office and that this did not fit in with what he had told the Inspector.
+But it did fit in with the theory that he had been an accessory after
+the event, and that he wanted (while appearing to be in a hurry) to give
+his cousin as much time as possible in which to escape. That might not
+be the true solution, but it was at least a workable one. The theory
+which he had suggested to the Inspector was not.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which Antony
+could consider all these matters from within The Red House. The car was
+at the door. He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on the front
+seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove back.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER VIII. "Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+</h2>
+<p>
+Anthony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner,
+and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the
+window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned
+over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He
+was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down
+his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an "Hallo!"
+through the door, and came in.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where's Mark?" he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark? You mean Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. "Yes, I mean Cayley. Is
+he down? I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill." He got up from the bed and
+went on briskly with his dressing. "Oh, by the way," said Bill, taking
+his place on the bed, "your idea about the keys is a wash-out."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why, how do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
+thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the
+others are inside."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bother! I hoped you'd forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on the
+head, doesn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I never had a theory. I only said that if they were outside, it would
+probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that case
+Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything. Some were outside and
+some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting. When you
+were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the idea
+of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+"Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry
+as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
+conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You were quite right about the keys," said Bill, during a pause. He was
+less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than they,
+to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds of them
+all.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Keys?" said Cayley blankly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We were wondering whether they were outside or inside."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! oh, yes!" He looked slowly round the hall, at the different doors,
+and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony. "We both seem to have been
+right, Mr. Gillingham. So we don't get much farther."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No." He gave a shrug. "I just wondered, you know. I thought it was
+worth mentioning."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, quite. Not that you would have convinced me, you know. Just as
+Elsie's evidence doesn't convince me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Elsie?" said Bill excitedly. Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+</p>
+<p>
+"One of the housemaids," explained Cayley. "You didn't hear what she
+told the Inspector? Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that class make
+things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What was it?" said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door that
+afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You were in the library then, of course," said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other. "She might have gone through the hall without
+your hearing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I've no doubt she was there, and heard voices. Perhaps heard those
+very words. But&mdash;" He broke off, and then added impatiently, "It was
+accidental. I know it was accidental. What's the good of talking as if
+Mark was a murderer?" Dinner was announced at that moment, and as they
+went in, he added, "What's the good of talking about it at all, if it
+comes to that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What, indeed?" said Antony, and to Bill's great disappointment they
+talked of books and politics during the meal.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were
+alight. He had business to attend to, as was natural. Bill would look
+after his friend. Bill was only too willing. He offered to beat
+Antony at billiards, to play him at piquet, to show him the garden by
+moonlight, or indeed to do anything else with him that he required.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank the Lord you're here," he said piously. "I couldn't have stood it
+alone."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Let's go outside," suggested Antony. "It's quite warm. Somewhere where
+we can sit down, right away from the house. I want to talk to you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good man. What about the bowling-green?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren't you? Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather. The ideal place. You'll see."
+</p>
+<p>
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left.
+Coming from Waldheim, Antony had approached the house that afternoon
+from the other side. The way they were going now would take them out
+at the opposite end of the park, on the high road to Stanton, a country
+town some three miles away. They passed by a gate and a gardener's
+lodge, which marked the limit of what auctioneers like to call "the
+ornamental grounds of the estate," and then the open park was before
+them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sure we haven't missed it?" said Antony. The park lay quietly in the
+moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way ahead
+of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rum, isn't it?" said Bill. "An absurd place for a bowling green, but I
+suppose it was always here."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but always where? It's short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but&mdash;Hallo!"
+</p>
+<p>
+They had come to the place. The road bent round to the right, but they
+kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and there
+in front of them was the green. A dry ditch, ten feet wide and six
+feet deep, surrounded it, except in the one place where the path went
+forward. Two or three grass steps led down to the green, on which there
+was a long wooden beach for the benefit of spectators.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, it hides itself very nicely," said Antony. "Where do you keep the
+bowls?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"In a sort of summer house place. Round here."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+</p>
+<p>
+"H'm. Jolly view."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nobody sits there. It's just for keeping things out of the rain."
+</p>
+<p>
+They finished their circuit of the green "Just in case anybody's in the
+ditch," said Antony and then sat down on the bench.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then," said Bill, "We are alone. Fire ahead."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little. Then he took his pipe out of
+his mouth and turned to his friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Watson?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one. Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me
+chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your own
+two or three days after I have made them myself all that kind of thing?
+Because it all helps."
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Tony," said Bill delightedly, "need you ask?" Antony said
+nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, "I perceive from the
+strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert. Holmes, you astonish me. Tut, tut, you know my methods. Where
+is the tobacco? The tobacco is in the Persian slipper. Can I leave my
+practice for a week? I can."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smiled and went on smoking. After waiting hopefully for a minute
+or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything. Also whom do you suspect?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony began to talk.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you remember," he said, "one of Holmes's little scores over Watson
+about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging? Poor old
+Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he had never
+thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them as a matter of
+course, and knew that there were seventeen. And that was supposed to
+be the difference between observation and non-observation. Watson was
+crushed again, and Holmes appeared to him more amazing than ever. Now,
+it always seemed to me that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and
+Watson the sensible person. What on earth is the point of keeping in
+your head an unnecessary fact like that? If you really want to know
+at any time the number of steps to your lodging, you can ring up your
+landlady and ask her. I've been up and down the steps of the club a
+thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how many
+steps there are I couldn't do it. Could you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I certainly couldn't," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But if you really wanted to know," said Antony casually, with a sudden
+change of voice, "I could find out for you without even bothering to
+ring up the hall-porter."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps, but
+he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know how many they were.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right," said Antony. "I'll find out."
+</p>
+<p>
+He closed his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm walking up St James' Street," he said slowly. "Now I've come to the
+club and I'm going past the smoking-room&mdash;windows-one-two three
+four. Now I'm at the steps. I turn in and begin going up them.
+One-two-three-four-five-six, then a broad step; six-seven-eight-nine,
+another broad step; nine-ten-eleven. Eleven I'm inside. Good morning,
+Rogers. Fine day again." With a little start he opened his eyes and came
+back again to his present surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile.
+"Eleven," he said. "Count them the next time you're there. Eleven and
+now I hope I shall forget it again."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's rather hot," he said. "Expound."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual eye, or
+something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an uncanny habit
+of recording things unconsciously. You know that game where you look at
+a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then turn away and
+try to make a list of them. It means a devil of a lot of concentration
+for the ordinary person, if he wants to get his list complete, but in
+some odd way I manage to do it without concentration at all. I mean that
+my eyes seem to do it without the brain consciously taking any part. I
+could look at the tray, for instance, and talk to you about golf at the
+same time, and still get my list right."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I should think that's rather a useful gift for an amateur detective.
+You ought to have gone into the profession before."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it is rather useful. It's rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger. Let's surprise Cayley with it, shall we?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's ask him&mdash;" Antony stopped and looked at Bill comically,
+"let's ask him what he's going to do with the key of the office."
+</p>
+<p>
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Key of the office?" he said vaguely. "You don't mean&mdash;Tony! What do you
+mean? Good God! do you mean that Cayley&mdash;But what about Mark?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know where Mark is&mdash;that's another thing I want to know&mdash;but
+I'm quite certain that he hasn't got the key of the office with him.
+Because Cayley's got it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are you sure?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say," he said, almost pleadingly, "don't tell me that you can see
+into people's pockets and all that sort of thing as well."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then how do you know?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're the perfect Watson, Bill. You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn't to explain till the last chapter, but I
+always think that that's so unfair. So here goes. Of course, I don't
+really know that he's got it, but I do know that he had it. I know that
+when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked the door and put
+the key in his pocket."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean you saw him at the time, but that you've only just remembered
+it&mdash;reconstructed it in the way you were explaining just now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. I didn't see him. But I did see something. I saw the key of the
+billiard-room."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where?
+</p>
+<p>
+"Outside the billiard-room door."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Outside? But it was inside when we looked just now."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who put it there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Obviously Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Let's go back to this afternoon. I don't remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit.
+Something like that, I daresay. Well, when I was sitting out by myself
+on that seat just before you came along, I went over the whole scene in
+my mind, and I suddenly saw the billiard-room key there outside. And I
+began to wonder if the office-key had been outside too. When Cayley came
+up, I told you my idea and you were both interested. But Cayley was just
+a shade too interested. I daresay you didn't notice it, but he was."
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn't really
+prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other keys were,
+Mark might have locked his own private room from the inside sometimes.
+But I piled it on, and pretended that it was enormously important, and
+quite altered the case altogether, and having got Cayley thoroughly
+anxious about it, I told him that we should be well out of the way for
+the next hour or so, and that he would be alone in the house to do what
+he liked about it. And, as I expected, he couldn't resist it. He altered
+the keys and gave himself away entirely."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But the library key was still outside. Why didn't he alter that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Because he's a clever devil. For one thing, the Inspector had been
+in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already. And for
+another&mdash;" Antony hesitated.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?" said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's only guesswork. But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset about
+the key business. He suddenly realized that he had been careless, and
+he hadn't got time to think it all over. So he didn't want to commit
+himself definitely to the statement that the key was either outside or
+inside. He wanted to leave it vague. It was safest that way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see," said Bill slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+But his mind was elsewhere. He was wondering suddenly about Cayley.
+Cayley was just an ordinary man&mdash;like himself. Bill had had little jokes
+with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at joking.
+Bill had helped him to sausages, played tennis with him, borrowed his
+tobacco, lent him a putter.... and here was Antony saying that he was
+what? Well, not an ordinary man, anyway. A man with a secret. Perhaps
+a murderer. No, not a murderer; not Cayley. That was rot, anyway. Why,
+they had played tennis together.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then, Watson," said Antony suddenly. "It's time you said
+something."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, Tony, do you really mean it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mean what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"About Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I mean what I said, Bill. No more."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what does it amount to?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and that
+Cayley knows exactly how he died. That's all. It doesn't follow that
+Cayley killed him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. No, of course it doesn't." Bill gave a sigh of relief. "He's just
+shielding Mark, what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let him down
+lightly. But then I'm not, you see."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to give you
+a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember the key is on the outside
+of the door to start with."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; well, I don't mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and they
+quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley hears
+the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the door,
+puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the door,
+and that he can't get in. How's that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
+other way round?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" said Bill, rather upset. "Yes." He thought for a moment, "All
+right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen Robert on
+the ground."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, there you are."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And what does he say to Mark? That it's a fine afternoon; and could he
+lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what's happened?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
+reluctantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And what does Mark say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill? Encouraging him to do
+the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do confess his guilt
+by running away!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?" Bill thought again. "Well,"
+he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd murdered his
+brother?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's better, Bill. Don't be afraid of getting away from the accident
+idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley
+that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
+committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to
+escape. Is that right?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as I
+said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic murder&mdash;a
+murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck? Secondly, if
+Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway,
+now), wouldn't it be simpler for him to say that he was in the office
+all the time, and that Robert's death was accidental?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said. "Now let's have
+yours."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
+different.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+</h2>
+<p>
+"What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill. "What is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever as
+this."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, you can't take me in!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
+to me&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that!" Bill was profoundly disappointed. "What on earth has the
+ghost got to do with it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know," said Antony apologetically. "I don't know what anything
+has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You shouldn't have brought
+me here if you hadn't wanted me to think about the ghost. This is where
+she appeared, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." Bill was distinctly short about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"How?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I said, 'How?'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How? How do ghosts appear? I don't know. They just appear."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one&mdash;Lady Anne, you know&mdash;was supposed to walk."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did
+Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of bare park?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I don't know," he stammered. "We never thought of that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You would have seen her long before, wouldn't you, if she had come the
+way we came?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course we should."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And that would have spoilt it rather. You would have had time to
+recognize her walk."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was interested now.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's rather funny, you know, Tony. We none of us thought of that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're sure she didn't come across the park when none of you were
+looking?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite. Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we kept
+looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be playing with
+our backs to her."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You and Miss Calladine were playing together?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, however do you know that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Brilliant deductive reasoning. Well, then you suddenly saw her?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn." He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+"She couldn't have been hiding in the ditch? Do you call it the moat, by
+the way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark does. We don't among ourselves. No, she couldn't. Betty and I
+were here before the others, and walked round a bit. We should have seen
+her."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then she must have been hiding in the shed. Or do you call it the
+summer-house?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We had to go there for the bowls, of course. She couldn't have been
+there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's dashed funny," said Bill, after an interval for thought. "But it
+doesn't matter, does it? It has nothing to do with Robert."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hasn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, has it?" said Bill, getting excited again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. We don't know what has, or what hasn't. But it has
+got something to do with Miss Norris. And Miss Norris&mdash;" He broke off
+suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about her?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you're all in it in a kind of way. And if something unaccountable
+happens to one of you a day or two before something unaccountable
+happens to the whole house, one is well, interested." It was a good
+enough reason, but it wasn't the reason he had been on the point of
+giving.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see. Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well then, let's find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove! Do you mean there's a secret passage?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"A secluded passage, anyway. There must be."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, what fun! I love secret passages. Good Lord, and this afternoon
+I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant! What a life! Secret
+passages!"
+</p>
+<p>
+They made their way down into the ditch. If an opening was to be found
+which led to the house, it would probably be on the house side of the
+green, and on the outside of the ditch. The most obvious place at which
+to begin the search was the shed where the bowls were kept. It was a
+tidy place as anything in Mark's establishment would be. There were two
+boxes of croquet things, one of them with the lid open, as if the
+balls and mallets and, hoops (neatly enough put away, though) had been
+recently used; a box of bowls, a small lawn-mower, a roller and so
+forth. A seat ran along the back of it, whereon the bowls-players could
+sit when it rained.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn't sound very hollow,
+does it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round with
+bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too tall to stand
+upright in the shed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would save
+us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark didn't
+let you play croquet on his bowling-green?" He pointed to the croquet
+things.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather keen
+about it. There's really nowhere else to play. Personally I hate the
+game. He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked calling it
+the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I love you on Mark," he said. "You're priceless."
+</p>
+<p>
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then
+suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment he stood
+listening, with his head on one side, holding up a finger to bid Bill
+listen too.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What is it?" whispered Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very quietly he
+went down on his knees, and listened again. Then he put his ear to the
+floor. He got up and dusted himself quickly, walked across to Bill and
+whispered in his ear:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and stepped
+firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to himself. He took
+the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on the floor, said, "Oh,
+Lord!" and went on:
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then what do you want to do?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Talk."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's a seat on the lawn I saw it. Let's bring these things along in
+case we want to play, after all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right-o!" said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+</p>
+<p>
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out his
+pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Got a match?" he said loudly.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, "There'll be somebody
+listening to us. You take the Cayley view," and then went on in his
+ordinary voice, "I don't think much of your matches, Bill," and struck
+another. They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What a heavenly night!" said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ripping."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's a rum business."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You agree with Cayley that it was an accident?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. You see, I know Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"H'm." Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began to write
+on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked. He said that he thought Mark
+had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley knew, or anyhow
+guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a chance of getting away.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mind you, I think he's right. I think it's what any of us would do. I
+shan't give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or two little
+things which make me think that Mark really did shoot his brother I mean
+other than accidentally."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Murdered him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it's not my
+business."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But why do you think so? Because of the keys?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of mine,
+Wasn't it? And it would have been rather a score for me if they had all
+been outside."
+</p>
+<p>
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill. In
+the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily be read:
+</p>
+<p>
+"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND AS
+IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read, "but
+you'll see that I'm right."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and Betty and
+all the other things which had made up his world lately. This was the
+real thing. This was life. "Well," he began deliberately, "the whole
+point is that I know Mark. Now, Mark&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into the
+ditch. His intention was to crawl round it until the shed came in sight.
+The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be underneath the shed;
+probably there was a trap-door of some kind in the floor. Whoever it was
+would have heard their voices, and would probably think it worth while
+to listen to what they were saying. He might do this merely by opening
+the door a little without showing himself, in which case Antony would
+have found the entrance to the passage without any trouble to himself.
+But when Bill turned his head and talked over the back of the seat, it
+was probable that the listener would find it necessary to put his head
+outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able to discover
+who it was. Moreover, if he should venture out of his hiding-place
+altogether and peep at them over the top of the bank, the fact that Bill
+was talking over the back of the seat would mislead the watcher into
+thinking that Antony was still there, sitting on the grass, no doubt,
+behind the seat, swinging his legs over the side of the ditch.
+</p>
+<p>
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and then
+went even more carefully along the width of it to the second corner.
+He could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his knowledge of Mark's
+character that this, that and the other must have happened, and he
+smiled appreciatively to himself. Bill was a great conspirator worth a
+hundred Watsons. As he approached the second corner he slowed down, and
+did the last few yards on hands and knees. Then, lying at full length,
+inch by inch his head went round the corner.
+</p>
+<p>
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of
+the ditch. From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it.
+Everything seemed to be as they left it. The bowls-box, the lawn-mower,
+the roller, the open croquet-box, the&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove!" said Antony to himself, "that's neat."
+</p>
+<p>
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too. Bill was turning round
+now; his voice became more difficult to hear. "You see what I mean," he
+was saying. "If Cayley&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley's black head.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony wanted to shout his applause. It was neat, devilish neat. For a
+moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of croquet-ball
+which had appeared so dramatically out of the box, and then reluctantly
+wriggled himself back. There was nothing to be gained by staying there,
+and a good deal to be lost, for Bill showed signs of running down. As
+quickly as he could Antony hurried round the ditch and took up his place
+at the back of the seat. Then he stood up with a yawn, stretched himself
+and said carelessly, "Well, don't worry yourself about it, Bill, old
+man. I daresay you're right. You know Mark, and I don't; and that's the
+difference. Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, "Oh, just
+let's have one game, shall we?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right you are," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very
+seriously. Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing
+but bowls. He played with great deliberation for ten minutes, and then
+announced that he was going to bed. Bill looked at him anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's all right," laughed Antony. "You can talk if you want to. Just
+let's put 'em away first, though."
+</p>
+<p>
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting the
+bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box. As he
+expected, it was locked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then," said Bill, as they were walking back to the house again,
+"I'm simply bursting to know. Who was it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord! Where?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Inside one of the croquet-boxes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't be an ass."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's quite true, Bill." He told the other what he had seen.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But aren't we going to have a look at it?" asked Bill, in great
+disappointment. "I'm longing to explore. Aren't you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow. We shall see Cayley coming along
+this way directly. Besides, I want to get in from the other end, if I
+can. I doubt very much if we can do it this end without giving ourselves
+away. Look, there's Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them. When they were a
+little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wondered where you were," he said, as he got up to them. "I rather
+thought you might be along this way. What about bed?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bed it is," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We've been playing bowls," added Bill, "and talking, and&mdash;and playing
+bowls. Ripping night, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to the
+house, to Antony. He wanted to think. There seemed to be no doubt now
+that Cayley was a villain. Bill had never been familiar with a villain
+before. It didn't seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking
+rather a mean advantage of his friends. Lot of funny people there were
+in the world funny people with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time he
+had met him in a tobacconist's shop. Anybody would have thought he was
+a tobacconist's assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought that
+Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person. And Mark. Dash it! one
+could never be sure of anybody. Now, Robert was different. Everybody had
+always said that Robert was a shady fellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it? What had Miss
+Norris got to do with it? This was a question which Antony had already
+asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him now that he had found
+the answer. As he lay in bed that night he reassembled his ideas, and
+looked at them in the new light which the events of the evening threw
+upon the dark corners in his brain.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his
+guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered. He would want this for
+their own sake as well as for his. But he had been a little too quick
+about suggesting it, and about seeing the suggestion carried out. They
+had been bustled off as soon as they could be packed. The suggestion
+that they were in his hands, to go or stay as he wished, could have been
+left safely to them. As it was, they had been given no alternative,
+and Miss Norris, who had proposed to catch an after-dinner train at the
+junction, in the obvious hope that she might have in this way a
+dramatic cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed detective, was
+encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the earlier train
+with the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the tragedy which had
+suddenly befallen the house, ought to have been equally indifferent to
+her presence or absence. But he was not; and Antony assumed from this
+that Cayley was very much alive to the necessity for her absence.
+</p>
+<p>
+Why?
+</p>
+<p>
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand. But the fact that
+it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for this reason
+that he had followed up so alertly Bill's casual mention of her in
+connection with the dressing-up business. He felt that he wanted to know
+a little more about Miss Norris and the part she had played in the Red
+House circle. By sheer luck, as it seemed to him, he had stumbled on the
+answer to his question.
+</p>
+<p>
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+</p>
+<p>
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert's
+death. Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic
+appearance as the ghost. Possibly she had discovered it for herself;
+possibly Mark had revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing
+that she would make so unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley,
+having been let into the joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how she
+could make her appearance on the bowling-green even more mysterious and
+supernatural. One way or another, she knew about the secret passage. So
+she must be hurried away.
+</p>
+<p>
+Why? Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent
+mention of it. And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Why, again? Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge of
+its existence, might provide a clue.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder if Mark's hiding there," thought Antony; and he went to sleep.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+</h2>
+<p>
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and
+found that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters
+and nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Any word of Mr. Ablett&mdash;of Mark?" said Antony, as he poured out his
+coffee.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! Is there a lake?"
+</p>
+<p>
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley's face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's really a pond," he said, "but it was called 'the lake.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Mark," thought Antony. Aloud he said, "What do they expect to find?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They think that Mark&mdash;" He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn't get away? And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; I suppose so," said Cayley slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for
+his money. After all, he had a revolver. If he was determined not to
+be taken alive, he could always have prevented that. Couldn't he have
+caught a train to London before the police knew anything about it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He might just have managed it. There was a train. They would have
+noticed him at Waldheim, of course, but he might have managed it at
+Stanton. He's not so well-known there, naturally. The inspector has been
+inquiring. Nobody seems to have seen him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on. There was
+never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who swear to
+have seen him at a dozen different places at the same time."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. That's true. Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first." He added
+dryly, "From what I've read of detective stories, inspectors always do
+want to drag the pond first."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it deep?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite deep enough," said Cayley as he got up. On his way to the door he
+stopped, and looked at Antony. "I'm so sorry that we're keeping you here
+like this, but it will only be until to-morrow. The inquest is to-morrow
+afternoon. Do amuse yourself how you like till then. Beverley will look
+after you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors
+liked dragging ponds, but the question was, Did Cayleys like having them
+dragged? Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He certainly
+did not seem to be anxious, but he could hide his feelings very easily
+beneath that heavy, solid face, and it was not often that the real
+Cayley peeped out. Just a little too eager once or twice, perhaps, but
+there was nothing to be learnt from it this morning. Perhaps he knew
+that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all, inspectors were
+always dragging ponds.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill came in noisily.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill's face was an open book. Excitement was written all over it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well," he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal,
+"what are we going to do this morning?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not talk so loudly, for one thing," said Antony. Bill looked about
+him apprehensively. Was Cayley under the table, for example? After last
+night one never knew.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is er&mdash;" He raised his eyebrows.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. But one doesn't want to shout. One should modulate the voice, my
+dear William, while breathing gently from the hips. Thus one avoids
+those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret. In other words,
+pass the toast."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You seem bright this morning."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, 'Were it not that I
+have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee. Fain
+would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little hills.
+But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch tarries
+outside with his shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will attend
+thee anon. Farewell, a long farewell to all&mdash;thy grape-nuts.' He then
+left up-centre. Enter W. Beverley, R."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are you often like this at breakfast?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. 'Exit W. Beverley, L."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's a touch of the sun, I suppose," said Bill, shaking his head sadly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do
+you know anything about Orion's Belt, for instance? And why isn't there
+a star called Beverley's Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Re-enter
+W. Beverley through trap-door."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Talking about trap-doors&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't," said Antony, getting up. "Some talk of Alexander and some of
+Hercules, but nobody talks about&mdash;what's the Latin for trap-door?&mdash;Mensa
+a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr. Beverley,"&mdash;and he
+slapped him heartily on the back as he went past him&mdash;"I shall see you
+later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so far you have not made
+me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing when you have finished
+your breakfast. But don't hurry. Let the upper mandibles have time to
+do the work." With those words Mr. Gillingham then left the spacious
+apartment.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not
+know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind him;
+not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within sight
+of Antony, who was not going to take any risks. So he went on with his
+breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if
+he had dreamed only of the amazing things which had happened the day
+before.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by
+a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he
+remembered.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it Elsie?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir," she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it was
+that she had achieved such notoriety.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn't it? I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, thank you, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"'It's my turn now. You wait,'" murmured Antony to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's what I heard, sir. Truly."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. I wonder. I wonder why."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why what, sir?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about
+it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she
+stopped him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes. To-morrow, I think."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course. There's nothing to be frightened of."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did hear it, sir. Truly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why, of course you did. Who says you didn't?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Some of the others, sir, Mrs. Stevens and all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that's just because they're jealous," said Antony with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once
+the immense importance of her evidence. To the Inspector no doubt it
+had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have adopted
+something of a threatening attitude towards his brother. To Antony it
+had much more significance. It was the only trustworthy evidence that
+Mark had been in the office at all that afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>
+For who saw Mark go into the office? Only Cayley. And if Cayley had been
+hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be hiding the truth
+about Mark's entry into the office? Obviously all Cayley's evidence went
+for nothing. Some of it no doubt was true; but he was giving it, both
+truth and falsehood, with a purpose. What the purpose was Antony did not
+know as yet; to shield Mark, to shield himself, even to betray Mark
+it might be any of these. But since his evidence was given for his own
+ends, it was impossible that it could be treated as the evidence of
+an impartial and trustworthy onlooker. Such, for instance, as Elsie
+appeared to be.
+</p>
+<p>
+Elsie's evidence, however, seemed to settle the point. Mark had gone
+into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both talking;
+and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert.... and the
+Inspector was going to drag the pond.
+</p>
+<p>
+But certainly Elsie's evidence did not prove anything more than the mere
+presence of Mark in the room. "It's my turn now; you wait." That was not
+an immediate threat;&mdash;it was a threat for the future. If Mark had shot
+his brother immediately afterwards it must have been an accident, the
+result of a struggle, say, provoked by that "nasty-like" tone of voice.
+Nobody would say "You wait" to a man who was just going to be shot. "You
+wait" meant "You wait, and see what's going to happen to you later on."
+The owner of the Red House had had enough of his brother's sponging,
+his brother's blackmail; now it was Mark's turn to get a bit of his own
+back. Let Robert just wait a bit, and he would see. The conversation
+which Elsie had overheard might have meant something like this. It
+couldn't have meant murder. Anyway not murder of Robert by Mark.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's a funny business," thought Antony. "The one obvious solution is so
+easy and yet so wrong. And I've got a hundred things in my head, and I
+can't fit them together. And this afternoon will make a hundred and one.
+I mustn't forget this afternoon."
+</p>
+<p>
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll. Bill was only too
+ready. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't mind much. Show me the park."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked out together.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Watson, old man," said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, "you really mustn't talk so loudly indoors. There was a gentleman
+outside, just behind you, all the time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I say," said Bill, going pink. "I'm awfully sorry. So that's why
+you were talking such rot."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Partly, yes. And partly because I do feel rather bright this morning.
+We're going to have a busy day."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are we really? What are we going to do?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They're going to drag the pond&mdash;beg its pardon, the lake. Where is the
+lake?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We're on the way to it now, if you'd like to see it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We may as well look at it. Do you haunt the lake much in the ordinary
+way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no, rather not. There's nothing to do there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You can't bathe?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I shouldn't care to. Too dirty."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn't it? The way to the
+village?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. We go off a bit to the right directly. What are they dragging it
+for?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rot," said Bill uneasily. He was silent for a little, and then,
+forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance of the
+exciting times they were having, said eagerly, "I say, when are we going
+to look for that passage?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We can't do very much while Cayley's in the house."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about this afternoon when they're dragging the pond? He's sure to
+be there."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's something I must do this afternoon," he said. "Of course we
+might have time for both."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I think he ought to be."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, is it anything rather exciting?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. It might be rather interesting. I daresay I could do it
+at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o'clock, somehow.
+I've been specially keeping it back for then."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, what fun! You do want me, don't you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course I do. Only, Bill don't talk about things inside the house,
+unless I begin. There's a good Watson."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I won't. I swear I won't."
+</p>
+<p>
+They had come to the pond&mdash;Mark's lake&mdash;and they walked silently round
+it. When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the grass, and
+relit his pipe. Bill followed his example.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Mark isn't there," said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No," said Bill. "At least, I don't quite see why you know he isn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It isn't 'knowing,' it's 'guessing,'" said Antony rapidly. "It's much
+easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark had wanted
+to shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not letting the body be
+found, he'd have put big stones in his pockets, and the only big stones
+are near the water's edge, and they would have left marks, and they
+haven't, and therefore he didn't, and oh, bother the pond; that can wait
+till this afternoon. Bill, where does the secret passage begin?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. You see, my idea is this."
+</p>
+<p>
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage was
+concerned in some way with the secret of Robert's death, and went on:
+</p>
+<p>
+"My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet. The passage came out into
+the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley's idea to put a
+croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely. You
+know, when once you've discovered a secret yourself, it always seems
+as if it must be so obvious to everybody else. I can imagine that Mark
+loved having this little secret all to himself and to Cayley, of course,
+but Cayley wouldn't count and they must have had great fun fixing it up,
+and making it more difficult for other people to find out. Well then,
+when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it away. Probably
+he told her that she could never get down to the bowling-green without
+being discovered, and then perhaps showed that he knew there was one way
+in which she could do it, and she wormed the secret out of him somehow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But this was two or three days before Robert turned up."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly. I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about the
+passage in the first place. It was just a little private bit of romance
+and adventure for Mark, three days ago. He didn't even know that Robert
+was coming. But somehow the passage has been used since, in connection
+with Robert. Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps he's hiding there
+now. And if so, then the only person who could give him away was Miss
+Norris. And she of course would only do it innocently not knowing that
+the passage had anything to do with it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So it was safer to have her out of the way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about this end of it?
+We can always get in at the bowling-green end."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly. It will mean
+breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we've done it. You
+see, Bill, if we don't find anything out for ourselves in the next day
+or two, we've got to tell the police what we have found out, and then
+they can explore the passage for themselves. But I don't want to do that
+yet."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather not.
+</p>
+<p>
+"So we've got to carry on secretly for a bit. It's the only way." He
+smiled and added, "And it's much more fun."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather!" Bill chuckled to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very well. Where does the secret passage begin?"
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+</h2>
+<p>
+"There's one thing, which we have got to realize at once," said Antony,
+"and that is that if we don't find it easily, we shan't find it at all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean that we shan't have time?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a
+lazy person like me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But it makes it much harder, if we can't really look properly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley's bedroom. Well, now we know that it
+doesn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We don't know anything of the sort," protested Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We&mdash;know for the purposes of our search. Obviously we can't go
+tailing into Cayley's bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and obviously,
+therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must assume that it
+doesn't begin there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I see." Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully. "Anyhow, it
+wouldn't begin on an upstairs floor, would it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Probably not. Well, we're getting on."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house," said
+Bill, after more thought. "We can't go there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right. And the cellars, if there are any."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that doesn't leave us much."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. Of course it's only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it, but
+what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of the few
+places in which we can look safely."
+</p>
+<p>
+"All it amounts to," said Bill, "is the living-rooms downstairs
+dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office rooms."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, the office is the most likely, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Except for one thing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's on the wrong side of the house. One would expect the passage
+to start from the nearest place to which it is going. Why make it longer
+by going under the house first?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's true. Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. And the library for choice. I mean for our choice. There are
+always servants going into dining-rooms. We shouldn't have much of a
+chance of exploring properly in there. Besides, there's another thing to
+remember. Mark has kept this a secret for a year. Could he have kept
+it a secret in the dining-room? Could Miss Norris have got into the
+dining-room and used the secret door just after dinner without being
+seen? It would have been much too risky."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill got up eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come along," he said, "let's try the library. If Cayley comes in, we
+can always pretend we're choosing a book."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house with
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages. Antony could
+never resist another person's bookshelves. As soon as he went into the
+room, he found himself wandering round it to see what books the owner
+read, or (more likely) did not read, but kept for the air which they
+lent to the house. Mark had prided himself on his library. It was a
+mixed collection of books. Books which he had inherited both from his
+father and from his patron; books which he had bought because he was
+interested in them or, if not in them, in the authors to whom he wished
+to lend his patronage; books which he had ordered in beautifully bound
+editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves, lending a
+noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture should ever
+be without them; old editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap
+books, a library in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure
+of finding something to suit him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And which is your particular fancy, Bill?" said Antony, looking from
+one shelf to another. "Or are you always playing billiards?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I have a look at 'Badminton' sometimes," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's over in that corner there." He waved a hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Over here?" said Antony, going to it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He corrected himself suddenly.&mdash;"Oh, no, it's not. It's over
+there on the right now. Mark had a grand re-arrangement of his library
+about a year ago. It took him more than a week, he told us. He's got
+such a frightful lot, hasn't he?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now that's very interesting," said Antony, and he sat down and filled
+his pipe again.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was indeed a "frightful lot" of books. The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only where
+the door and the two windows insisted on living their own life, even
+though an illiterate one. To Bill it seemed the most hopeless room of
+any in which to look for a secret opening.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We shall have to take every blessed book down," he said, "before we can
+be certain that we haven't missed it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Anyway," said Antony, "if we take them down one at a time, nobody
+can suspect us of sinister designs. After all, what does one go into a
+library for, except to take books down?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"But there's such a frightful lot."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony's pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's have a look," he said, "and see if they are so very
+frightful. Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.' You often read that, you
+say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"If I read anything."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He looked down and up the shelf. "Sport and Travel chiefly. I
+like books of travel, don't you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They're pretty dull as a rule."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony,
+reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. "The Drama. The
+Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well
+remark, many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson&mdash;I like
+reading plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do
+are usually very keen. Let us pass on."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We haven't. That's why we aren't wasting any. Poetry. Who reads poetry
+nowadays? Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise Lost'?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The Excursion'
+aloud to you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"As a matter of fact, Betty&mdash;Miss Calladine&mdash;happens to be jolly keen on
+what's the beggar's name?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on."
+</p>
+<p>
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Biography. Oh, lots of it. I love biographies. Are you a member of the
+Johnson Club? I bet Mark is. 'Memories of Many Courts' I'm sure Mrs.
+Calladine reads that. Anyway, biographies are just as interesting as
+most novels, so why linger? We pass on." He went to the next shelf, and
+then gave a sudden whistle. "Hallo, hallo!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the matter?" said Bill rather peevishly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Stand back there. Keep the crowd back, Bill. We are getting amongst it.
+Sermons, as I live. Sermons. Was Mark's father a clergyman, or does Mark
+take to them naturally?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"His father was a parson, I believe. Oh, yes, I know he was."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah, then these are Father's books. 'Half-Hours with the Infinite' I
+must order that from the library when I get back. 'The Lost Sheep,'
+'Jones on the Trinity,' 'The Epistles of St. Paul Explained.' Oh, Bill,
+we're amongst it. 'The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore
+Ussher' hal-LO!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What is the matter?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"William, I am inspired. Stand by." He took down the Reverend Theodore
+Ussher's classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for a moment, and
+then gave it to Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Here, hold Ussher for a bit."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill took the book obediently.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, give it me back. Just go out into the hall, and see if you can hear
+Cayley anywhere. Say 'Hallo' loudly, if you do."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's all right."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good." He took the book out of its shelf again. "Now then, you can hold
+Ussher. Hold him in the left hand so. With the right or dexter hand,
+grasp this shelf firmly so. Now, when I say 'Pull,' pull gradually. Got
+that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good." Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout Ussher, and
+fingered the back of the shelf. "Pull," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill pulled.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now just go on pulling like that. I shall get it directly. Not hard,
+you know, but just keeping up the strain."
+</p>
+<p>
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom, swung
+gently open towards them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill's fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa and
+deposited him in it. Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Child's play, Watson," he said; "child's play."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How on earth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You don't really want it explained," he said, smacking him on the knee;
+"you're just being Watsonish. It's very nice of you, of course, and I
+appreciate it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, but really, Tony."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, my dear Bill!" He smoked silently for a little, and then went on,
+"It's what I was saying just now a secret is a secret until you have
+discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder why
+everybody else isn't discovering it, and how it could ever have been a
+secret at all. This passage has been here for years, with an opening at
+one end into the library, and at the other end into the shed. Then Mark
+discovered it, and immediately he felt that everybody else must discover
+it. So he made the shed end more difficult by putting the croquet-box
+there, and this end more difficult by&mdash;" he stopped and looked at the
+other "by what, Bill?"
+</p>
+<p>
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Obviously by re-arranging his books. He happened to take out 'The Life
+of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat,' or whatever it was, and by the
+merest chance discovered the secret. Naturally he felt that everybody
+else would be taking down 'The Life of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a
+Boat.' Naturally he felt that the secret would be safer if nobody ever
+interfered with that shelf at all. When you said that the books had been
+re-arranged a year ago just about the time the croquet-box came into
+existence; of course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the dullest
+books I could find, the books nobody ever read. Obviously the collection
+of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we wanted."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I see. But why were you so certain of the particular place?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, he had to mark the particular place by some book. I thought
+that the joke of putting 'The Narrow Way' just over the entrance to the
+passage might appeal to him. Apparently it did."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times. "Yes, that's very
+neat," he said. "You're a clever devil, Tony."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, come on, then," said Bill, and he got up, and held out a hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come on where?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"To explore the passage, of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why ever not?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what do you expect to find there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. But you seemed to think that we might find something that
+would help."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Suppose we find Mark?" said Antony quietly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, do you really think he's there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Suppose he is?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, there we are."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his pipe,
+and turned back to Bill. He looked at him gravely without speaking.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What are you going to say to him?" he said at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I&mdash;I&mdash;well, of course, I&mdash;" began Bill, stammering, and then ended
+lamely, "Well, I don't know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly. We've got to make up our minds, haven't we?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill didn't answer. Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and then
+at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were trying to
+learn what lay behind it. Which side was he on, if it came to choosing
+sides&mdash;Mark's or the Law's?
+</p>
+<p>
+"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo!' to him," said Antony,
+breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr. Gillingham,
+who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of bowls.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, it's dashed difficult. I don't know what to say. I've been rather
+forgetting about Mark." He wandered over to the window and looked out on
+to the lawns. There was a gardener clipping the grass edges. No reason
+why the lawn should be untidy just because the master of the house had
+disappeared. It was going to be a hot day again. Dash it, of course he
+had forgotten Mark. How could he think of him as an escaped murderer,
+a fugitive from justice, when everything was going on just as it did
+yesterday, and the sun was shining just as it did when they all drove
+off to their golf, only twenty-four hours ago? How could he help feeling
+that this was not real tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of detective
+game that he and Antony were playing?
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned back to his friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+"All the same," he said, "you wanted to find the passage, and now you've
+found it. Aren't you going into it at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony took his arm.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Let's go outside again," he said. "We can't go into it now, anyhow.
+It's too risky, with Cayley about. Bill, I feel like you&mdash;just a little
+bit frightened. But what I'm frightened of I don't quite know. Anyway,
+you want to go on with it, don't you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Bill firmly. "We must."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then we'll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the chance.
+And if we don't get the chance, then we'll try it to-night."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?" asked Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's possible," said Antony. "Either Mark or&mdash;" He pulled himself up
+quickly. "No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let myself think that
+not yet, anyway. It's too horrible."
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
+</h2>
+<p>
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been busy.
+He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in the brown
+flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he had made inquiries
+at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to this description had
+been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the evidence which had been
+volunteered to him had been inconclusive, it made it possible that
+Mark had indeed caught that train, and had arrived in London before the
+police at the other end had been ready to receive him. But the fact that
+it was market-day at Stanton, and that the little town would be more
+full than usual of visitors, made it less likely that either the
+departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of Robert by the 2.10
+earlier in the afternoon, would have been particularly noticed. As
+Antony had said to Cayley, there would always be somebody ready to hand
+the police a circumstantial story of the movements of any man in whom
+the police were interested.
+</p>
+<p>
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain. To find out more
+about him in time for the inquest would be difficult. All that was known
+about him in the village where he and Mark had lived as boys bore out
+the evidence of Cayley. He was an unsatisfactory son, and he had been
+hurried off to Australia; nor had he been seen since in the village.
+Whether there were any more substantial grounds of quarrel between the
+two brothers than that the younger one was at home and well-to-do,
+while the elder was poor and an exile, was not known, nor, as far as the
+inspector could see, was it likely to be known until Mark was captured.
+</p>
+<p>
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately. Dragging
+the pond might not help towards this, but it would certainly give the
+impression in court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling the case
+with zeal. And if only the revolver with which the deed was done was
+brought to the surface, his trouble would be well repaid. "Inspector
+Birch produces the weapon" would make an excellent headline in the local
+paper.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked to
+the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the mood for
+a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend, Mr. Beverley.
+He gave them a cheerful "Good afternoon," and added with a smile,
+"Coming to help us?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You don't really want us," said Antony, smiling back at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You can come if you like."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You can tell me afterwards what you find," he said. "By the way," he
+added, "I hope the landlord at 'the George' gave me a good character?"
+</p>
+<p>
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now how on earth do you know anything about that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the Force."
+</p>
+<p>
+The inspector laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham. You got a clean bill. But
+I had to make certain about you.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course you did. Well, I wish you luck. But I don't think you'll
+find much at the pond. It's rather out of the way, isn't it, for anybody
+running away?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to the
+pond. However, we shan't do any harm by looking. It's the unexpected
+that's the most likely in this sort of case."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're quite right, Inspector. Well, we mustn't keep you. Good
+afternoon," and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good afternoon, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good afternoon," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent for
+so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him rather
+crossly what was the matter.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know; really I don't know. It's too devilish what I keep
+thinking. He can't be as cold-blooded as that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on which
+they had been sitting. He sat there with his head in his hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I hope they find something," he murmured. "Oh, I hope they do."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In the pond?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Anything, Bill; anything."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was annoyed. "I say, Tony, this won't do. You really mustn't be so
+damn mysterious. What's happened to you suddenly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Didn't you hear what he said?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What, particularly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That it was Cayley's idea to drag the pond."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh! Oh, I say!" Bill was rather excited again. "You mean that he's
+hidden something there? Some false clue which he wants the police to
+find?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I hope so," said Antony earnestly, "but I'm afraid&mdash;" He stopped short.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Afraid of what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Afraid that he hasn't hidden anything there. Afraid that&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the safest place in which to hide anything very important?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Somewhere where nobody will look."
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's a better place than that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Somewhere where everybody has already looked."
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove! You mean that as soon as the pond has been dragged, Cayley
+will hide something there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I'm afraid so."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But why afraid?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn't easily be hidden anywhere else."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?" asked Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, I'm not going to talk about it yet. We can wait and see what the
+Inspector finds. He may find something&mdash;I don't know what&mdash;something
+that Cayley has put there for him to find. But if he doesn't, then it
+will be because Cayley is going to hide something there to-night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?" asked Bill again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will see what, Bill," said Antony; "because we shall be there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are we going to watch him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's good," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as to
+which side he was taking. Previous to the tragedy of yesterday he had
+got on well enough with both of the cousins, without being in the least
+intimate with either. Indeed, of the two he preferred, perhaps, the
+silent, solid Cayley to the more volatile Mark. Cayley's qualities, as
+they appeared to Bill, may have been chiefly negative; but even if this
+merit lay in the fact that he never exposed whatever weaknesses he may
+have had, this is an excellent quality in a fellow-guest (or, if you
+like, fellow-host) in a house where one is continually visiting. Mark's
+weaknesses, on the other hand, were very plain to the eye, and Bill had
+seen a good deal of them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in
+regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of the
+Law against Cayley. Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but Cayley
+had committed an unforgivable offence. Cayley had listened secretly to
+a private conversation between himself and Tony. Let Cayley hang, if the
+Law demanded it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come along," he said. "It's time for that job I spoke about."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The passage?" said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, of course. What is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was three o'clock, and at three o'clock yesterday Antony and Cayley
+had found the body. At a few minutes after three, he had been looking
+out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been surprised suddenly
+to find the door open and Cayley behind him. He had vaguely wondered at
+the time why he had expected the door to be shut, but he had had no time
+then to worry the thing out, and he had promised himself to look into
+it at his leisure afterwards. Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if
+it meant anything, he could have found out its meaning by a visit to
+the office that morning. But he had felt that he would be more likely
+to recapture the impressions of yesterday if he chose as far as possible
+the same conditions for his experiment. So he had decided that three
+o'clock that afternoon should find him once more in the office.
+</p>
+<p>
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a shock
+that there was now no body of Robert lying there between the two doors.
+But there was a dark stain which showed where the dead man's head had
+been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt twenty-four hours
+before.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I want to go through it again," he said. "You must be Cayley. Cayley
+said he would get some water. I remember thinking that water wasn't
+much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too glad to
+do anything rather than nothing. He came back with a wet sponge and
+a handkerchief. I suppose he got the handkerchief from the chest of
+drawers. Wait a bit."
+</p>
+<p>
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled open
+a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back to the
+office.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top right-hand
+drawer. Now then, Bill, just pretend you're Cayley. You've just said
+something about water, and you get up."
+</p>
+<p>
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling
+beside his friend, got up and walked out. Antony, as he had done on the
+previous day, looked up after him as he went. Bill turned into the room
+on the right, opened the drawer and got the handkerchief, damped the
+sponge and came back.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?" he said wonderingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's all different," he said. "For one thing, you made a devil of a
+noise and Cayley didn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Perhaps you weren't listening when Cayley went in?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wasn't. But I should have heard him if I could have heard him, and I
+should have remembered afterwards."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Wait!"
+</p>
+<p>
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought. It wasn't anything which
+he had heard, but something which he had seen. He tried desperately hard
+to see it again.... He saw Cayley getting up, opening the door from the
+office, leaving it open and walking into the passage, turning to the
+door on the right, opening it, going in, and then&mdash;What did his eyes see
+after that? If they would only tell him again!
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. "Bill, I've got it!" he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
+ass, and ten times ass!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed to
+the wall of the passage.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Look at the sunlight on it," he said. "That's because you've left the
+door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through the windows.
+Now, I'm going to shut the door. Look! D'you see how the shadow moves
+across? That's what I saw the shadow moving across as the door shut
+behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind you quite naturally.
+Quick!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought so!" he cried. "I knew it couldn't have been that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved
+back again all in one movement."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And what happened yesterday?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
+and there was no noise of the door being shut."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
+afterthought&mdash;and very quietly&mdash;so that you couldn't hear?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into
+the room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with
+springs on them close?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
+slowly they swing to-well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort
+of door. By Jove!" He got up, and dusted his knees. "Now, Bill, just to
+make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you
+know; and very quietly, so that I don't hear the click of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what
+had happened.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction. "That was just
+what I saw yesterday." He came out of the office, and joined Bill in the
+little room.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr. Cayley
+was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that his friend
+Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
+</h2>
+<p>
+Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something,
+perhaps, which he had found by the body, and but that was absurd. In the
+time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a
+drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if
+he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by
+this time, and hidden it in some more secret place. Besides, why in this
+case bother about shutting the door?
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked. "Did he ever change
+down here?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
+kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
+go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
+never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
+he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he'd
+had half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
+gentleman's town and country outfit."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
+next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
+comfortable coat."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see. Yes." He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
+lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
+glanced in. "He seems to have come in here for a collar lately."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. I daresay he would," he agreed. "If he suddenly found that the one
+he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or something. He
+was very finicking."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after examining it
+carefully. "It couldn't very well be cleaner." He dropped it back again.
+"Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes, rather."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill. "That's what I don't
+understand. You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
+something which he didn't want me to hear."
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; but what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by the
+effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
+struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you think
+I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still at it?
+Because&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried. "Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
+Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What on earth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it
+said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He was opening the window!" cried Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley, of course." Very gravely and slowly he expounded. "He came in
+here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I shouldn't
+hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here and found
+the window open. I said, 'This window is open. My amazing powers of
+analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this window.'
+'Oh,' said Cayley, raising his eyebrows. 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+must be right.' Said I proudly, 'I am. For the window is open,' I said.
+Oh, you incomparable ass!"
+</p>
+<p>
+He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried to put himself in Cayley's place&mdash;Cayley, when Antony had first
+discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let me in!" Whatever
+had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert, Cayley knew
+all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not escaped by
+the window. But it was necessary to Cayley's plans&mdash;to Mark's plans
+if they were acting in concert&mdash;that he should be thought so to have
+escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his
+pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered&mdash;with what
+a shock!&mdash;that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left open!
+</p>
+<p>
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. Was the
+office window open? Surely it was open! Was it?.... Would he have time
+now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip out
+again? No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky.
+Fatal, if he were discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get
+the windows safely open while they were crowding round the body. They
+wouldn't notice. He could do it somehow.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then Antony's sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And Antony
+suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was just
+what he wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest
+way round and yet run. It was Cayley's only chance of getting a start
+on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open somehow
+before Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he must get
+there first, just to make sure. Perhaps they were open. He must get away
+from Antony and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he
+must have a moment to himself, a moment in which to think of some other
+plan, and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+</p>
+<p>
+So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the
+window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet.
+There was the dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't
+hear.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Antony didn't hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
+Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had
+carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular window
+in preference to the office window. And Cayley had agreed that probably
+that was the reason. How he must have chuckled to himself! But he was
+still a little afraid. Afraid that Antony would examine the shrubbery.
+Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having broken
+through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces
+since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as
+far as footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard. Perhaps
+footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he thought of the big
+Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark's shoes. Cayley
+must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.
+</p>
+<p>
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or
+two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't hear. And Antony had not
+heard.... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+</p>
+<p>
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
+listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of yesterday's happenings.
+It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them any further.
+It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's that?" said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark. Where's Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then where
+is he now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must have
+gone. Elsie heard him." He stopped and repeated slowly, "She heard him,
+at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out again by the
+door."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, but where does that lead you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where it led Mark. The passage."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?" Antony was
+silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort he
+came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I don't
+know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm rather frightened.
+Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be going to happen.
+However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any fault with it."
+</p>
+<p>
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay
+back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him,
+and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted
+over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they happened.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an accident;
+probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a panic,
+naturally. But he doesn't lock the door and run away. For one thing, the
+key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not, quite such a
+fool as that. But he is in a horrible position. He is known to be on bad
+terms with his brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him,
+which may possibly have been overheard. What is he to do? He does
+the natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
+circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
+tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see
+what is the matter. He explains rapidly. 'What's to be done, Cay?
+what's to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
+threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn't. Think of something,
+quick!'
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley has thought of something. 'Leave it to me,' he says. 'You clear
+out altogether. I shot him, if you like. I'll do all the explaining. Get
+away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage, quick. I'll come to
+you there as soon as I can.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark's courage comes back. Cayley
+will explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an
+accident. He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley&mdash;Cayley
+has no quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage
+and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other
+end, and saunter slowly back to the house. He will be told the news by
+one of the servants. Robert accidentally shot? Good Heavens!
+</p>
+<p>
+"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
+the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door
+and shouts, 'Let me in!'"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense. What's the point of Cayley
+behaving like that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And what has happened to Mark since?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're ready to go?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite," said Bill, surprised.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're quite ready for what we may find?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know I am." He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm being
+an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am." He looked at his
+watch.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's safe, is it? They're still busy at the pond?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We'd better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill&mdash;one of
+those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
+get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
+without letting him see you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he
+cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. What Elsie heard him say."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
+him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain, but&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything." He
+rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous, high-pitched voice,
+and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, "I say, that was
+really rather good."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded quickly. "That was like it?" he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." He got up and squeezed Bill's arm. "Well just go and see about
+Cayley, and then we'll get moving. I shall be in the library."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was
+glorious fun; this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be
+bettered. First of all he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little
+copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards away from
+it. He would come into this from the back, creep cautiously through
+it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then, drawing himself on his
+stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him. People were
+always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
+hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it himself.
+What fun!
+</p>
+<p>
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported to
+Antony, they were going to explore the secret passage! Again, what fun!
+Unfortunately there seemed to be no chance of buried treasure, but there
+might be buried clues. Even if you found nothing, you couldn't get away
+from the fact that a secret passage was a secret passage, and anything
+might happen in it. But even that wasn't the end of this exciting day.
+They were going to watch the pond that night; they were going to watch
+Cayley under the moonlight, watch him as he threw into the silence of
+the pond what? The revolver? Well, anyhow, they were going to watch him.
+What fun!
+</p>
+<p>
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they
+were getting, it did not seem fun. But it was amazingly interesting.
+He saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of focus. It was like
+looking at an opal, and discovering with every movement of it some new
+colour, some new gleam of light reflected, and yet never really seeing
+the opal as a whole. He was too near it, or too far away; he strained
+his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good. His brain could not
+get hold of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned away
+from it. He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never seen
+murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and to which he was
+afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded killing which any man
+may come to if he lose control. It was something much more horrible. Too
+horrible to be true. Then let him look again for the truth. He looked
+again but it was all out of focus.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I will not look again," he said aloud, as he began to walk towards
+the house. "Not yet, anyway." He would go on collecting facts and
+impressions. Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+</h2>
+<p>
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley was
+still at the pond.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But I don't think they're getting up much except mud," he said. "I ran
+most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, come along, then," he said. "The sooner, the quicker."
+</p>
+<p>
+They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher's famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill pulled.
+The shelves swung open towards them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove!" said Bill, "it is a narrow way."
+</p>
+<p>
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had
+something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two
+feet from the ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the
+floor of it was emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and
+flashed it down into the blackness.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Look," he whispered to the eager Bill. "The steps begin down there. Six
+feet down."
+</p>
+<p>
+He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of
+large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You swing off from there," said Bill. "At least, I suppose you do. I
+wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley helped her, I should think.... It's funny."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Shall I go first?" asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony shook
+his head with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think I will, if you don't mind very much, Bill. Just in case."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In case of what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well in case."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to wonder
+what Antony meant.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto," he said. "Go on."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, we'll just make sure we can get back again, first. It really
+wouldn't be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the rest
+of our lives. He's got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if he has
+to find you and me as well&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We can always get out at the other end."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, we're not certain yet. I think I'd better just go down and back.
+I promise faithfully not to explore."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right you are."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat
+there for a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the
+darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began; then returned
+it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him and swung himself
+down. His feet touched the steps beneath him, and he let go.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it all right?" said Bill anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"All right. I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back. Stay
+there."
+</p>
+<p>
+The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For
+a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint
+splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a little
+longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was alone....
+</p>
+<p>
+Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, turning round with a start, "Cayley!"
+</p>
+<p>
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in
+action. Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely
+but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the right places,
+to move away to another row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in
+"Badminton" or "Baedeker" or whomever the kind gods should send to his
+aid the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in
+five seconds rather than in six.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah, there you are," said Cayley from the doorway.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo!" said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume of
+"The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge." "Have they finished?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Finished what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The pond," said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on such
+a fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason....
+verifying a quotation&mdash;an argument with Antony&mdash;that would do. But what
+quotation?
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no. They're still at it. Where's Gillingham?"
+</p>
+<p>
+'The Ancient Mariner'&mdash;water, water, everywhere&mdash;or was that something
+else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tony? Oh, he's about somewhere. We're just going down to the village.
+They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can say
+they've done it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back to it
+again. He was just getting to the place.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of
+his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that
+glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?
+</p>
+<p>
+"I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled. "Tony and I had a
+bet about it. You know that thing about&mdash;er water, water everywhere,
+and&mdash;er&mdash;not a drop to drink." (But what on earth, he wondered to
+himself, were they betting about?)
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite sure?" he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then you've saved me a lot of trouble. That's, what the bet was about."
+He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf, and began
+to feel for his pipe and tobacco. "I was a fool to bet with Tony," he
+added. "He always knows that sort of thing."
+</p>
+<p>
+So far, so good. But here was Cayley still in the library, and there was
+Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage. When Antony came back he would
+not be surprised to find the door closed, because the whole object of
+his going had been to see if he could open it easily from the inside. At
+any moment, then, the bookshelf might swing back and show Antony's head
+in the gap. A nice surprise for Cayley!
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
+anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've got to go into Stanton."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered
+also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, a pity. You're driving, I suppose?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. The car will be here directly. There's a letter I must write
+first." He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any
+moment now it might open.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned. Obviously.
+But how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code. Did Antony
+know it? Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He had picked up
+a bit in the Army not enough to send a message, of course. But a
+message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It
+wouldn't do to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know?
+And what letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at
+his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What letter?
+</p>
+<p>
+C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was
+just worth trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that right? C yes, that was C. He was sure of
+that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it
+might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk
+or something. He wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley, and
+began to tap absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the titles.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first; he
+couldn't get the rhythm of it.... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy. That was
+better. He was back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin
+to hear him soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a
+man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on
+the lawn. Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat
+knocking out his pipe. Would Antony understand? Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.
+C. for Cayley, Antony. Cayley's here. For God's sake, wait.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord! Sermons!" said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy) "Ever read 'em, Cayley?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?" Cayley looked up suddenly. Bill's back moved slowly along, his
+fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Er no," said Cayley, with a little laugh. An awkward, uncomfortable
+little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nor do I." He was past the sermons now past the secret door but still
+tapping in the same aimless way.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, for God's sake sit down," burst out Cayley. "Or go outside if you
+want to walk about."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo, what's the matter?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry, Bill," he apologized. "My nerves are on edge. Your constant
+tapping and fidgeting about&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves."
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry. I'll go out in the hall."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter. Bill sat
+down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there was
+nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. "And if you ask me," said
+Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought to be on the stage. That's where
+I ought to be. The complete actor."
+</p>
+<p>
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now.
+Antony had guessed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to talk to
+the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and saw
+Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
+</p>
+<p>
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said casually
+enough that it was all right.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I must be off," said Cayley. "You're going down to the village?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's the idea."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder if you'd take this letter to Jallands for me?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks very much. Well, I shall see you later."
+</p>
+<p>
+He nodded and got into the car.
+</p>
+<p>
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?" he said excitedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come into the library."
+</p>
+<p>
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You must give me a moment," he panted. "I've been running."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Running?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, of course. How do you think I got back here?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You don't mean you went out at the other end?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, did you hear me tapping?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did, indeed. Bill, you're a genius."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I knew you'd understand," he said. "You guessed that I meant Cayley?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant. You
+must have had rather an exciting time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tell me about it."
+</p>
+<p>
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for a
+life on the stage.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good man," said Antony at the end of it. "You are the most perfect
+Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad," he went on dramatically, rising
+and taking Bill's hand in both of his, "There is nothing that you and I
+could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Silly old ass."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's what you always say when I'm being serious. Well, anyway, thanks
+awfully. You really saved us this time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Were you coming back?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
+tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of
+course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the
+other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn't shut it until the last
+possible moment&mdash;until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the
+taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C
+began to come along I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove'&mdash;bright, aren't I?&mdash;and I
+simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was worth. And
+hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather involved
+in explanations&mdash;about where I was, and so on."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You didn't see Mark, then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. Nor his&mdash;No, I didn't see anything."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nor what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I didn't see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw a
+door in the wall, a cupboard. And it's locked. So if there's anything we
+want to find, that's where it is."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Could Mark be hiding there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?' he
+would have thought it was Cayley. There was no answer.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's go down and try again. We might be able to get the door
+open."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Can Cayley drive a car?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, of course. Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose so if he wanted to."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes." Antony got up. "Well, look here, as we said we were going into
+the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost think
+we'd better do it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!.... Oh, very well."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Jallands. What were you telling me about that? Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's right. Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter. The
+letter's for her."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; well, let's take it. Just to be on the safe side."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?" asked
+Bill fretfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's nothing to see, really, I promise you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're very mysterious. What's upset you? You did see something down
+there, I'm certain of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did and I've told you about it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, you haven't. You only told me about the door in the wall."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's it, Bill. And it's locked. And I'm frightened of what's behind
+it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But then we shall never know what's there if we aren't going to look."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We shall know to-night," said Antony, taking Bill's arm and leading him
+to the hall, "when we watch our dear friend Cayley dropping it into the
+pond."
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+</h2>
+<p>
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped
+gently downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is
+difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length
+of time, Bill had dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed
+to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and made
+uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he noticed that his companion
+kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted to remember
+for a future occasion the way by which they were coming. Yet there was
+no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time in view of the
+road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall which bordered its
+further side stood out clearly against the sky.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley. Didn't you see?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"See what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The car. Going past on the road there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So that's what you were looking for. You've got jolly good eyes, my
+boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing it
+twice."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I have got jolly good eyes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought he was going to Stanton."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then where is he going?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After making
+quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really were going to
+Jallands, as they said."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, do you think so?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shouldn't be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient for him,
+hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when we're definitely
+somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Useful for what?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he's mixed
+up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two. Even if he
+doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel that at any
+moment we might stumble on something."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him. Bill pushed it
+through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's better," and returned
+the pipe to his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that wants thinking over. It's going to be difficult. I wish we
+were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any chance?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old thatched
+farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up to a new world,
+and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however, of so discreet
+a growth that they had not brought with them any obvious change of
+character, and Jallands even with a bathroom was still Jallands. To the
+outward view, at any rate. Inside, it was more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill. "Not bad-looking, is she?"
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something
+more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill was keeping
+his superlatives for another. In Bill's eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine. To
+Antony, unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed, quite
+simply, beautiful.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over. "Here you are."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about what
+has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless even to
+believe it. If it is true what we've heard."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?" She shook her head in
+distress. "It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody we
+didn't know at all." Then, with a sudden grave smile which included both
+of them, "But you must come and have some tea."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we&mdash;er&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you very much."
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any man
+in her house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility. When
+her life-work was completed, and summed up in those beautiful words: "A
+marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place, between Angela,
+daughter of the late John Norbury...." then she would utter a grateful
+Nunc dimittis and depart in peace to a better world, if Heaven insisted,
+but preferably to her new son-in-law's more dignified establishment.
+For there was no doubt that eligibility meant not only eligibility as a
+husband.
+</p>
+<p>
+But it was not as "eligibles" that the visitors from the Red House were
+received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special smile for
+"possibles" was there, it was instinctive rather than reasoned. All that
+she wanted at this moment was news&mdash;news of Mark. For she was bringing
+it off at last; and, if the engagement columns of the "Morning Post"
+were preceded, as in the case of its obituary columns, by a premonitory
+bulletin, the announcement of yesterday would have cried triumphantly
+to the world, or to such part of the world as mattered: "A marriage has
+very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly take
+place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John Norbury, and&mdash;Mark
+Ablett of the Red House." And, coming across it on his way to the
+sporting page, Bill would have been surprised. For he had thought that,
+if anybody, it was Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+To the girl it was neither. She was often amused by her mother's ways;
+sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them. The Mark Ablett
+affair had seemed to her particularly distressing, for Mark was so
+obviously in league with her mother against her. Other suitors, upon
+whom her mother had smiled, had been embarrassed by that championship;
+Mark appeared to depend on it as much as on his own attractions; great
+though he thought these to be. They went a-wooing together. It was a
+pleasure to turn to Cayley, that hopeless ineligible.
+</p>
+<p>
+But alas! Cayley had misunderstood her. She could not imagine Cayley in
+love until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it. That was four
+days ago. She had not seen him since, and now here was this letter. She
+dreaded opening it. It was a relief to feel that at least she had an
+excuse for not doing so while her guests were in the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the more
+sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and Angela had
+been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and efficiency of
+the expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on the sofa beside her,
+listening to many things which were of even greater interest to him than
+she could possibly have hoped.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It is terrible, terrible," she said. "And to suggest that dear Mr.
+Ablett&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony made suitable noises.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You've seen Mr. Ablett for yourself. A kinder, more warmhearted man&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course, yes, I was forgetting. But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham, you
+can trust a woman's intuition in these matters."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Think of my feelings as a mother."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury's feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed with
+a stranger. Yet what could he do? What, indeed, did he want to do except
+listen, in the hope of learning? Mark engaged, or about to be engaged!
+Had that any bearing on the events of yesterday? What, for instance,
+would Mrs. Norbury have thought of brother Robert, that family skeleton?
+Was this another reason for wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+</p>
+<p>
+"I never liked him, never!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never liked?" said Antony, bewildered.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That cousin of his Mr. Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my little
+girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm sure you wouldn't, Mrs. Norbury."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I never liked him," said Mrs. Norbury firmly. "Never." However, thought
+Antony to himself, that didn't quite prove that Cayley was a murderer.
+</p>
+<p>
+"How did Miss Norbury get on with him?" he asked cautiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There was nothing in that at all," said Miss Norbury's mother
+emphatically. "Nothing. I would say so to anybody."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. I never meant&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Nothing. I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence.
+Whether he made advances&mdash;" She broke off with a shrug of her plump
+shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony waited eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Naturally they met. Possibly he might have&mdash;I don't know. But my duty
+as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham."
+</p>
+<p>
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I told him quite frankly that&mdash;how shall I put it?&mdash;that he was
+trespassing. Tactfully, of course. But frankly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mean," said Antony, trying to speak calmly, "that you told him
+that&mdash;er&mdash;Mr. Ablett and your daughter&mdash;?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly, Mr. Gillingham. I had my duty as a mother."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing your
+duty. But it must have been disagreeable. Particularly if you weren't
+quite sure&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham. Obviously attracted."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who would not be?" said Antony, with a charming smile. "It must have
+been something of a shock to him to&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken. I saw at once
+that I had not spoken a moment too soon."
+</p>
+<p>
+"There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next meeting,"
+suggested Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Naturally, he has not been here since. No doubt they would have been
+bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh,&mdash;this was only quite lately?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Last week, Mr. Gillingham. I spoke just in time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah!" said Antony, under his breath. He had been waiting for it.
+</p>
+<p>
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have thought
+over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably, to have
+changed partners for a little while with Bill. Miss Norbury would hardly
+be ready to confide in a stranger with the readiness of a mother, but he
+might have learnt something by listening to her. For which of them had
+she the greater feeling, Cayley or Mark? Was she really prepared to
+marry Mark? Did she love him or the other&mdash;or neither? Mrs. Norbury was
+only a trustworthy witness in regard to her own actions and thoughts;
+he had learnt all that was necessary of those, and only the daughter now
+had anything left to tell him. But Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham," she was saying. "It is fortunate
+that they have mothers to guide them. It was so obvious to me from the
+beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband for my little girl.
+You never knew him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular
+Velasquez&mdash;I should say Van Dyck. Angela would have it that she could
+never marry a man with a beard. As if that mattered, when&mdash;" She broke
+off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Red House is certainly charming," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Charming. Quite charming. And it is not as if Mr. Ablett's appearance
+were in any way undistinguished. Quite the contrary. I'm sure you agree
+with me?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world. So
+desirable in every way."
+</p>
+<p>
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little. Antony
+was, about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs. Norbury began
+again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And then there's this scapegrace brother of his. He was perfectly frank
+with me, Mr. Gillingham. He would be. He told me of this brother, and
+I told him that I was quite certain it would make no difference to
+my daughter's feelings for him.... After all, the brother was in
+Australia."
+</p>
+<p>
+"When was this? Yesterday?" Antony felt that, if Mark had only mentioned
+it after his brother's announcement of a personal call at the Red House,
+this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom behind it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It couldn't have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham. Yesterday&mdash;" she
+shuddered, and shook her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no! There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too devoted a
+lover. Not in the morning, no. We both agreed that dear Angela&mdash;Oh,
+no. No; the day before yesterday, when he happened to drop in about
+tea-time."
+</p>
+<p>
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her
+opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically engaged.
+She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be rushed, that dear
+Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at all.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The day before yesterday. As it happened, dear Angela was out. Not that
+it mattered. He was driving to Middleston. He hardly had time for a cup
+of tea, so that even if she had been in&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded absently. This was something new. Why did Mark go to
+Middleston the day before yesterday? But, after all, why shouldn't he?
+A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might have taken
+him there.
+</p>
+<p>
+He got up to go. He wanted to be alone&mdash;alone, at least, with Bill.
+Mrs. Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great
+outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason to
+hate Mark,&mdash;Mrs. Norbury had given him that reason. To hate? Well, to be
+jealous, anyhow. But that was enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You see," he said to Bill, as they walked back, "we know that Cayley is
+perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and that must
+be for one of two reasons. Either to save Mark or to endanger him.
+That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly
+against him. Well, now we know that he is against him, definitely
+against him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But, I say, you know," protested Bill, "one doesn't necessarily try to
+ruin one's rival in love."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Doesn't one?" said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill blushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mightn't try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn't perjure yourself
+in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Lord! no."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely."
+</p>
+<p>
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them from
+the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and leant
+against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the house which
+they had left.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Jolly little place, isn't it?" said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very. But rather mysterious."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In what way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, where's the front door?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The front door? Why, you've just come out of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But isn't there a drive, or a road or anything?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No; that's the beauty of it to some people. And that's why it's so
+cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect. They're not too
+well off."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, there's a cart-track, but motor-cars can't come any nearer than the
+road" he turned round and pointed "up there. So the week-end millionaire
+people don't take it. At least, they'd have to build a road and a garage
+and all the rest of it, if they did."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see," said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and continued
+their walk up to the road. But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
+</h2>
+<p>
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night?
+Antony thought that he knew now. It was Mark's body.
+</p>
+<p>
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back
+from it. For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded
+killing. Was Cayley equal to it? Bill would have said "No," but that was
+because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and dinner
+with him; had ragged him and played games with him. Bill would have said
+"No," because Bill wouldn't have killed anybody in cold blood himself,
+and because he took it for granted that other people behaved pretty much
+as he did. But Antony had no such illusions. Murders were done; murder
+had actually been done here, for there was Robert's dead body. Why not
+another murder?
+</p>
+<p>
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon? The only evidence
+(other than Cayley's, which obviously did not count) was Elsie's. Elsie
+was quite certain that she had heard his voice. But then Bill had said
+that it was a very characteristic voice&mdash;an easy voice, therefore, to
+imitate. If Bill could imitate it so successfully, why not Cayley?
+</p>
+<p>
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all.
+Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over the
+girl whom they were both wooing. Suppose Cayley had killed Mark, either
+purposely, in sudden passion, or accidentally, meaning only to knock
+him down. Suppose that this had happened in the passage, say about
+two o'clock, either because Cayley had deliberately led him there, or
+because Mark had casually suggested a visit to it. (One could imagine
+Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.) Suppose Cayley
+there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round his
+neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search for a way
+of escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly he remembers
+that Robert is coming to the house at three o'clock that
+afternoon&mdash;automatically he looks at his watch&mdash;in half an hour's
+time.... In half an hour's time. He must think of something quickly,
+quickly. Shall he bury the body in the passage and let it be thought
+that Mark ran away, frightened at the mere thought of his brother's
+arrival? But there was the evidence of the breakfast table. Mark had
+seemed annoyed at this resurrection of the black sheep, but certainly
+not frightened. No; that was much too thin a story. But suppose Mark had
+actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose it could
+be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over the dead
+body of his cousin, and working it out. How could Robert be made to seem
+the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it? But suppose Robert were
+dead, too?
+</p>
+<p>
+He looks at his watch again. (Only twenty-five minutes now.) Suppose
+Robert were dead, too? Robert dead in the office, and Mark dead in the
+passage how does that help? Madness! But if the bodies were brought
+together somehow and Robert's death looked like suicide?.... Was it
+possible?
+</p>
+<p>
+Madness again. Too difficult. (Only twenty minutes now.) Too difficult
+to arrange in twenty minutes. Can't arrange a suicide. Too difficult....
+Only nineteen minutes....
+</p>
+<p>
+And then the sudden inspiration! Robert dead in the office, Mark's body
+hidden in the passage&mdash;impossible to make Robert seem the murderer, but
+how easy to make Mark! Robert dead and Mark missing; why, it jumped to
+the eye at once. Mark had killed Robert&mdash;accidentally; yes, that would
+be more likely&mdash;and then had run away. Sudden panic.... (He looks at his
+watch again. Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now. The thing arranges
+itself.)
+</p>
+<p>
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered. It seemed to fit in with the
+facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory which he had
+suggested to Bill in the morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Which one?" said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting in
+the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and his fishermen had
+now withdrawn. Bill had listened with open mouth to Antony's theory, and
+save for an occasional "By Jove!" had listened in silence. "Smart man,
+Cayley," had been his only comment at the end.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Which other theory?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the
+office door from the outside and hammered on it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that. I asked you what
+the point of it was, and you wouldn't say anything." He thought for a
+little, and then went on, "I suppose you meant that Cayley deliberately
+betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like a murderer?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the passage,
+alive or dead."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And now you don't think so?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now I think that his dead body is there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards after you had
+come, after the police had come?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's what I shrink from, Bill. It's so horribly cold-blooded.
+Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough. According to
+you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with whom he
+has no quarrel, whom he hasn't seen for fifteen years!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is
+that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in
+sudden passion. Anything that happened after that would be self-defense.
+I don't mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it. And I think
+that Mark's dead body is in the passage now, and has been there since,
+say, half-past two yesterday afternoon. And to-night Cayley is going to
+hide it in the pond."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful
+or two, and said slowly, "You may be right, but it's all guess-work, you
+know."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord, of course it is," he said. "And to-night we shall know if
+it's a good guess or a bad one."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"To-night," he said. "I say, to-night's going to be rather fun. How do
+we work it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was silent for a little.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course," he said at last, "we ought to inform the police, so that
+they can come here and watch the pond to-night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course," grinned Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories
+before them."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think perhaps it is," said Bill solemnly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bill, you old bounder."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, dash it, it's our show. I don't see why we shouldn't get our
+little bit of fun out of it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Neither do I. All right, then, we'll do without the police to-night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We shall miss them," said Bill sadly, "but 'tis better so."
+</p>
+<p>
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of getting
+out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and secondly, the
+problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley dropped into the pond
+that night.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Let's look at it from Cayley's point of view," said Antony. "He may not
+know that we're on his track, but he can't help being suspicious of
+us. He's bound to be suspicious of everybody in the house, and more
+particularly of us, because we're presumably more intelligent than the
+others."
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the opportunity
+of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he's going to take good
+care that we aren't watching him. Well, what will he do?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"See that we are asleep first, before he starts out."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Come and tuck us up, and see that we're nice and comfortable."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's awkward," said Bill. "But we could lock our doors, and then
+he wouldn't know that we weren't there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Have you ever locked your door?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Never."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he'd bang on it,
+and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep
+thought. "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out, and that
+doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Let's put ourselves in his place," said Antony, puffing slowly at his
+pipe. "He's got the body, or whatever it is, in the passage. He won't
+come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look in at our doors to
+see if we're awake. He'll have to make sure about us first, and then go
+down for the body afterwards. So that gives us a little time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Y-yes," said Bill doubtfully. "We might just do it, but it'll be a bit
+of a rush."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But wait. When he's gone down to the passage and got the body, what
+will he do next?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Come out again," said Bill helpfully.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes; but which end?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill sat up with a start.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't you think so? Just imagine him walking across the lawn in full
+view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms. Think of
+the awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering if
+anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to wander
+to the window and look out into the night. There's still plenty of
+moonlight, Bill. Is he going to walk across the park in the moonlight,
+with all those windows staring at him? Not if he can help it. But he
+can get out by the bowling green, and then come to the pond without ever
+being in sight of the house, at all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're right. And that will just about give us time. Good. Now, what's
+the next thing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he drops
+whatever he drops."
+</p>
+<p>
+"So that we can fish it out again."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If we can see what it is, we shan't want to. The police can have a
+go at it to-morrow. But if it's something we can't identify from a
+distance, then we must try and get it out. To see whether it's worth
+telling the police about."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Y-yes," said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course, the trouble with
+water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I don't
+know if that had occurred to you.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It had," smiled Antony. "Let's come and have a look at it."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence,
+looking at the pond beneath them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"See anything?" said Antony at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The fence on the other side."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's rather useful, that's all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically," added Bill. "A moment later, his
+friend Watson had hurled him into the pond."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I love being Sherlocky," he said. "It's very unfair of you not to play
+up to me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?" said Bill obediently.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Because you can take a bearing on it. You see&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, you needn't stop to explain to me what a bearing is."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wasn't going to. But you're lying here," he looked up "underneath
+this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his parcel
+in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it off on the
+fence there. Say it's the fifth post from the end. Well, then I take a
+line from my tree we'll find one for me directly and it comes on to
+the twentieth post, say. And where the two lines meet, there shall
+the eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I almost forgot to
+remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving
+act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, really? It's beastly dirty water, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of Jasher."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped, well, it's
+a warm night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just the night for a bathe," agreed Antony, getting up. "Well now,
+let's have a look for my tree."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill's
+tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet
+nearer to heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the other
+end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally conspicuous.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's where I shall be," said Antony, pointing to it. "Now, for the
+Lord's sake, count your posts accurately."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake," said Bill with
+feeling. "I don't want to spend the whole night diving."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then
+count backwards to the beginning of the fence."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's how you will have to do the last part of it," said Antony
+with a smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They
+started to walk back to the house together.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's one thing which worries me rather," said Antony. "Where does
+Cayley sleep?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Next door to me. Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's just possible that he might have another look at you after
+he's come back from the pond. I don't think he'd bother about it in the
+ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think he might
+glance in."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shan't be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking up
+mud."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked
+vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it, and
+one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for the
+head. You know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to feel
+that you were still sleeping peacefully."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather. I'm awfully good at that. I'll make him up something really
+good. But what about you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm at the other end of the house; he's hardly likely to bother about
+me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first visit.
+Still, I may as well to be on the safe side."
+</p>
+<p>
+They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He
+nodded, and took out his watch.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Time to change?" he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just about," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You didn't forget my letter?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I did not. In fact, we had tea there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ah!" He looked away and said carelessly, "How were they all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and&mdash;and all that
+sort of thing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing
+was coming, he turned round, said, "Come on, Tony," and led the way
+upstairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Got all you want?" he said at the top of the stairs.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think so. Come and see me before you go down."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window.
+He pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over
+the door at the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which
+projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his
+left. He could step out on to the top of the door, and from there drop
+easily to the ground. Getting back would be little more difficult. There
+was a convenient water-pipe which would help.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. "Final
+instructions?" he asked, sitting down on the bed. "By the way, how are
+we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Billiards?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto. Anything you like."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't talk too loud," said Antony in a lower voice. "We're more or less
+over the hall, and Cayley may be there." He led the way to the window.
+"We'll go out this way to-night. Going downstairs is too risky. It's
+easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right. I say, in case I don't get another chance alone with you what do
+I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he just
+knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don't overdo the snoring. But
+if he makes a hell of a noise, you'll have to wake up and rub your eyes,
+and wonder what on earth he's doing in your room at all. You know the
+sort of thing."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right. And about the dummy figure. I'll make it up directly we come
+upstairs, and hide it under the bed."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... I think we'd better go completely to bed ourselves. We shan't
+take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get safely
+into the passage. Then come into my room."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right.... Are you ready?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+They went downstairs together.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0017"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+</h2>
+<p>
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he
+suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front
+of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could
+stand it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down
+hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been
+lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But
+in the end he had been firm.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about a little billiards?" he said, shaking himself free from the
+others.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Will you play?" said Antony to Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll watch you," he said, and he had watched them resolutely until the
+game, and then another game after that; had been played.
+</p>
+<p>
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, thank heaven for bed," said Bill; putting down his glass. "Are
+you coming?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley. "I shan't
+be long following you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, good night, then."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs. "Good night,
+Tony."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good night."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything
+happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what
+to wear on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and
+a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse
+for some time. And good idea a towel. He would want it later on, and
+meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tennis-shoes.... There Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy
+figure.
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen.
+How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and
+then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become
+accustomed to the new darkness.... He could only just make out the bed
+in the corner of the room. Cayley would want more light than that if
+he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied. He
+pulled the curtains a little way back. That was about right. He could
+have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in the bed.
+</p>
+<p>
+How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn't that he wanted his
+friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his
+business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were
+safely in their bedrooms. Cayley's business would make no noise, give
+no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as
+the household was really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure
+himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far
+enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he came up
+to reassure himself. So it amounted to the same thing, really. He would
+wait until they were asleep.... until they were asleep.... asleep....
+</p>
+<p>
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal if
+he went to sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep .... And then, in
+an instant, he was intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at all!
+</p>
+<p>
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his business.
+Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of
+his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony have taken
+such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley's place, he had said. But how was
+it possible? They weren't Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would
+never know what he had dropped into it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Listen!.... Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now.
+Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.... The door was
+opening. He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord, suppose
+Cayley really was a murderer! Why, even now he might be&mdash;no, he mustn't
+think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round.
+He mustn't turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why
+didn't the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his
+hand no, he mustn't think of that. He was asleep. But why didn't the
+door shut?
+</p>
+<p>
+The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed,
+a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very
+natural sound a deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one
+to it to make it seem more natural. The door was shut.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up. As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark. He put the dummy
+figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just enough but not
+too much of it was showing, and stood by the door looking at it. For a
+casual glance the room was just about light enough. Then very quietly,
+very slowly he opened the door. All was still. There was no light from
+beneath the door of Cayley's room. Very quietly, very carefully he crept
+along the passage to Antony's room. He opened the door and went in.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony was still in bed. Bill walked across to wake him up, and then
+stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs. There was
+somebody else in the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+"All right, Bill," said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out from
+the curtains.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather good, isn't it?" said Antony, coming closer and pointing to the
+bed. "Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better."
+</p>
+<p>
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him. They
+reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across the lawn
+and so, over the fence, into the park. It was not until they were out of
+sight of the house that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I quite thought it was you in bed," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I hoped you would. I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley doesn't
+call again. It's a pity to waste it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He came all right just now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rather. What about you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There wouldn't have been much point in his killing you," said Antony
+prosaically. "Besides being too risky."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!" said Bill. And then, "I had rather hoped that it was his love for
+me which restrained him."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I doubt it.... You didn't turn up your light when you dressed?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on anything
+together."
+</p>
+<p>
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees
+which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously
+silent. It seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.
+</p>
+<p>
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's your tree, there's mine. As long as you don't move, there's no
+chance of his seeing you. After he's gone, don't come out till I do. He
+won't be here for a quarter of an hour or so, so don't be impatient."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto," whispered Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+</p>
+<p>
+The minutes went by slowly. To Antony, lying hidden in the undergrowth
+at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting itself. Suppose
+Cayley had to make more than one journey that night? He might come back
+to find them in the boat; one of them, indeed, in the water. And if they
+decided to wait in hiding, on the chance of Cayley coming back again,
+what was the least time they could safely allow? Perhaps it would be
+better to go round to the front of the house and watch for his return
+there, the light in his bedroom, before conducting their experiments at
+the pond. But then they might miss his second visit in this way, if he
+made a second visit. It was difficult.
+</p>
+<p>
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and
+suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by the
+boat. In his hand was a small brown bag.
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using an
+oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off. Then, very silently, he rowed
+towards the middle of the pond.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had stopped. The oars rested on the water. He picked up the bag from
+between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and rested it lightly
+on the water for a moment. Then he let go. It sank slowly. He waited
+there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it might rise again. Antony began
+to count....
+</p>
+<p>
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place. He tied up the boat,
+looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him,
+and then turned to the water again. For a long time, as it seemed to the
+watchers, he stood there, very big, very silent, in the moonlight. At
+last he seemed satisfied. Whatever his secret was, he had hidden it; and
+so with a gentle sigh, as unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard it,
+Cayley turned away and vanished again as quietly as he had come.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees. He waited
+there for Bill to join him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Six," whispered Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm going round to the front of the house. You get back to your tree
+and watch, in case Cayley comes again. Your bedroom is the left-hand end
+one, and Cayley's the end but one? Is that right?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right. Wait in hiding till I come back. I don't know how long I shall
+be, but don't be impatient. It will seem longer than it is." He patted
+Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod of the head he left him
+there.
+</p>
+<p>
+What was in the bag? What could Cayley want to hide other than a key or
+a revolver? Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need to put them
+in a bag first. What was in the bag? Something which wouldn't sink of
+itself; something which needed to be helped with stones before it would
+hide itself safely in the mud.
+</p>
+<p>
+Well, they would find that out. There was no object in worrying about
+it now. Bill had a dirty night's work in front of him. But where was the
+body which Antony had expected so confidently or, if there were no body,
+where was Mark?
+</p>
+<p>
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley? As quickly as he could
+Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying in the
+shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light to go up
+in Cayley's window. If it went up in Bill's window, then they were
+discovered. It would mean that Cayley had glanced into Bill's room, had
+been suspicious of the dummy figure in the bed, and had turned up the
+light to make sure. After that, it was war between them. But if it went
+up in Cayley's room&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a light. Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement. It was in
+Bill's room. War!
+</p>
+<p>
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up, blowing
+the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest of the
+house. Bill had left his curtains undrawn. It was careless of him; the
+first stupid thing he had done, but&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the
+bushes. There was another window beyond Cayley's, and there was no light
+in it. The declaration of war was postponed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed. After all it was only polite
+to return Cayley's own solicitude earlier in the night. Politeness
+demanded that one should not disport oneself on the pond until one's
+friends were comfortably tucked up.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he
+might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six." It was the sixth
+post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These
+he arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond,
+counted up to the sixth post, and murmured "six" to himself again. Then
+he looked down at his twigs. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Seven!
+Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which
+had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said "six"
+to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right. Six.
+He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six together.
+Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of a tall
+man&mdash;well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to remember
+it. Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about the
+bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of the
+water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering, and
+saying, "Good Lord, what a life!" to himself, when Antony reappeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Six," he said firmly. "Sixth post from the end."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good," smiled Antony. "Mine was the eighteenth&mdash;a little way past it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did you go off for?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"To see Cayley into bed."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it all right?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall
+see it more easily. I'll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to
+undress here or in the boat?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Some here, and some in the boat. You're quite sure that you wouldn't
+like to do the diving yourself?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Quite, thanks."
+</p>
+<p>
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the sixth
+post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position,
+and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the
+eighteenth post. When they were ready, they got into the boat, Antony
+taking the oars.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two marks."
+</p>
+<p>
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're about there now," said Bill at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's pretty well right." He turned the boat's nose round until
+it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain. "You see my
+tree and the other coat?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right. Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line until we're
+dead in between the two. Get it as exact as you can&mdash;for your own sake."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Steady!" said Bill warningly. "Back a little.... a little more .... a
+little more forward again.... Right." Antony left the oars on the water
+and looked around. As far as he could tell, they were in an exact line
+with each pair of landmarks.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then, Bill, in you go."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You mustn't dive from the boat, old boy," said Antony hastily. "You'll
+shift its position. Slide in gently."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's it like?" said Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cold. Well, here's luck to it."
+</p>
+<p>
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was gone.
+Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his landmarks.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion. "It's pretty muddy," he
+protested.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Weeds?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, thank the Lord."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, try again."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared. Again Antony coaxed the boat
+back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in front of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I feel that if I threw you a sardine," said Antony, with a smile,
+"you'd catch it in your mouth quite prettily."
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's awfully easy to be funny from where you are. How much longer have
+I got to go on doing this?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked at his watch.
+</p>
+<p>
+"About three hours. We must get back before daylight. But be quicker if
+you can, because it's rather cold for me sitting here."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again. He was
+under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on his face
+when it was visible again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've got it, but it's devilish hard to get up. I'm not sure that it
+isn't too heavy for me."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all right," said Antony. He brought out a ball of thick string
+from his pocket. "Get this through the handle if you can, and then we
+can both pull."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good man." He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again. "Now then."
+</p>
+<p>
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat. Bill clambered in
+after it, and Antony rowed back. "Well done, Watson," he said quietly,
+as they landed. He fetched their two coats, and then waited, the bag in
+his hand, while Bill dried and dressed himself. As soon as the latter
+was ready, he took his arm and led him into the copse. He put the bag
+down and felt in his pockets.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shall light a pipe before I open it," he said. "What about you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes. Bill's hand was a
+little unsteady. Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ready?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed the
+catch and opened it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Clothes!" said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out. It was a wet brown
+flannel coat.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark's brown flannel suit."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The one he is advertised as having run away in?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. It looks like it. Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters. He
+considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose I'd better read them," he said. "I mean, just to see&mdash;" He
+looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded. Antony turned on his torch and
+glanced at them. Bill waited anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Mark.... Hallo!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about. From Robert.
+'Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you&mdash;' Yes, I suppose I had
+better keep this. Well, that's his coat. Let's have out the rest of it."
+He took the remaining clothes from the bag and spread them out.
+</p>
+<p>
+"They're all here," said Bill. "Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes&mdash;yes, all of them."
+</p>
+<p>
+"All that he was wearing yesterday?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What do you make of it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is it what you expected?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's too absurd," he said. "I expected&mdash;well, you know what I expected.
+A body. A body in a suit of clothes. Well, perhaps it would be safer
+to hide them separately. The body here, and the clothes in the passage,
+where they would never betray themselves. And now he takes a great deal
+of trouble to hide the clothes here, and doesn't bother about the body
+at all." He shook his head. "I'm a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and
+that's the fact."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Anything else there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony felt in the bag.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Stones and&mdash;yes, there's something else." He took it out and held it
+up. "There we are, Bill."
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the office key.
+</p>
+<p>
+"By Jove, you were right."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down on
+the grass. A dozen large stones fell out&mdash;and something else. He flashed
+down his torch.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Another key," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in
+silence, thinking. Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt his
+thoughts, but at last he said:
+</p>
+<p>
+"Shall I put these things back?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked up with a start.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What? Oh, yes. No, I'll put them back. You give me a light, will you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag, pausing as
+he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed to Bill, that
+it had something to tell him if only he could read it. When the last of
+them was inside, he still waited there on his knees, thinking.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's the lot," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, that's the lot," he said; "and that's the funny thing about it.
+You're sure it is the lot?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Give me the torch a moment." He took it and flashed it over the ground
+between them. "Yes, that's the lot. It's funny." He stood up, the bag in
+his hands. "Now let's find a hiding-place for these, and then&mdash;" He said
+no more, but stepped off through the trees, Bill following him meekly.
+</p>
+<p>
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of the
+copse, Antony became more communicative. He took the two keys out of his
+pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+"One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key of
+the passage cupboard. So I thought that perhaps we might have a look at
+the cupboard."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, do you really think it is?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I don't see what else it can be."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But why should he want to throw it away?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to wash
+his hands of the passage. He'd throw the passage away if he could. I
+don't think it matters much one way or another, and I don't suppose
+there's anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel that we must look."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you still think Mark's body might be there?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. And yet where else can it be? Unless I'm hopelessly wrong, and
+Cayley never killed him at all."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I know you'll think me an ass&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Bill, I'm such an obvious ass myself that I should be delighted
+to think you are too."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him to
+escape, just as we thought at first. I know you proved afterwards that
+it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a way we don't know about
+and for reasons we don't know about. I mean, there are such a lot of
+funny things about the whole show that&mdash;well, almost anything might have
+happened."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're quite right. Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, this clothes business. Doesn't that seem rather to bear out
+the escaping theory? Mark's brown suit was known to the police. Couldn't
+Cayley have brought him another one in the passage, to escape in, and
+then have had the brown one on his hands? And thought it safest to hide
+it in the pond?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Anthony thoughtfully. Then: "Go on."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill went on eagerly:
+</p>
+<p>
+"It all seems to fit in, you know. I mean even with your first
+theory&mdash;that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley for
+help. Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he'd have told Mark that he
+had nothing to be afraid of. But he isn't playing fair; he wants to get
+Mark out of the way because of the girl. Well, this is his chance. He
+makes Mark as frightened as possible, and tells him that his only hope
+is to run away. Well, naturally, he does all he can to get him well
+away, because if Mark is caught, the whole story of Cayley's treachery
+comes out."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. But isn't it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything? It wastes a good deal of time, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, "Oh!" in great disappointment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, it's not as bad as that, Bill," said Antony with a smile. "I
+daresay the underclothes could be explained. But here's the difficulty.
+Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or whatever it was, when
+Cayley was the only person who saw him in brown?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, because Cayley told the police. You see, even if Mark had had
+lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley could
+always have pretended that he had changed into blue after lunch, because
+only Cayley saw him afterwards. So if Cayley had told the Inspector that
+he was wearing blue, Mark could have escaped quite comfortably in his
+brown, without needing to change at all."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But that's just what he did do," cried Bill triumphantly. "What fools
+we are!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, yes!" insisted Bill. "Of course! Don't you see? Mark did change
+after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting away, Cayley
+lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in which the servants
+had seen him. Well, then he was afraid that the police might examine
+Mark's clothes and find the brown suit still there, so he hid it, and
+then dropped it in the pond afterwards."
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing. Bill began to
+speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't say anything more, old boy; you've given me quite enough to think
+about. Don't let's bother about it to-night. We'll just have a look at
+this cupboard and then get to bed."
+</p>
+<p>
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night. It was empty save
+for a few old bottles.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's that," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to search
+for something.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What are you looking for?" asked Bill at last.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Something that isn't there," said Antony, getting up and dusting his
+trousers. And he locked the door again.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0018"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
+</h2>
+<p>
+The inquest was at three o'clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim
+on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o'clock his bag was packed,
+and waiting to be taken to 'the George.' To Bill, coming upstairs after
+a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little
+surprising.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the hurry?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"None. But we don't want to come back here after the inquest. Get your
+packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto." He turned to go to his room, and then came back again. "I say,
+are we going to tell Cayley that we're staying at 'the George'?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"You're not staying at 'the George,' Bill. Not officially. You're going
+back to London."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for you
+when you catch a train there after the inquest. You can tell him that
+you've got to see the Bishop of London at once. The fact that you are
+hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it seem more natural
+that I should resume my interrupted solitude at 'the George' as soon as
+you have gone."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then where do I sleep to-night?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect, in
+my bed, unless they've got another spare room at 'the George.' I've put
+your confirmation robe&mdash;I mean your pyjamas and brushes and things&mdash;in
+my bag, ready for you. Is there anything else you want to know? No? Then
+go and pack. And meet me at ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in the
+hall or somewhere. I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my
+Watson."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good," said Bill, and went off to his room.
+</p>
+<p>
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley, they
+wandered out together into the park.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?" said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree. "Talk
+away."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning," began Antony. "The
+brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and working at
+this thing from the wrong end altogether."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's helpful."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course it's very hampering being a detective, when you don't know
+anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you're doing
+detection, and you can't have people up to cross-examine them, and you
+have neither the energy nor the means to make proper inquiries; and,
+in short, when you're doing the whole thing in a thoroughly amateur,
+haphazard way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"For amateurs I don't think we're doing at all badly," protested Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No; not for amateurs. But if we had been professionals, I believe we
+should have gone at it from the other end. The Robert end. We've been
+wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time. Now let's wonder about
+Robert for a bit."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We know so little about him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's see what we do know. First of all, then, we know vaguely
+that he was a bad lot&mdash;the sort of brother who is hushed up in front of
+other people."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a rather
+unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And then we know rather a curious thing. We know that Mark told you all
+that this black sheep was coming. Now, why did he tell you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I suppose," he said slowly, "that he knew we were bound to see him, and
+thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But were you bound to see him? You were all away playing golf."
+</p>
+<p>
+"We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very well, then. That's one thing we've discovered. Mark knew that
+Robert was staying in the house that night. Or shall we put it this
+way&mdash;he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert out of the house
+at once."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Go on," he said. "This is getting interesting."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He also knew something else," went on Antony. "He knew that Robert was
+bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him.
+He couldn't pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the
+Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once,
+because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. That's sound enough."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, now, doesn't it strike you that Mark made up his mind about all
+that rather quickly?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"How do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read
+it he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second
+he thought out the whole business and came to a decision&mdash;to two
+decisions. He considered the possibility of getting Robert out of
+the way before you came back, and decided that it was impossible. He
+considered the possibility of Robert's behaving like an ordinary decent
+person in public, and decided that it was very unlikely. He came to
+those two decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter. Isn't
+that rather quick work?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, what's the explanation?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What's the explanation? Well, let's leave it for a moment and take
+another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs.
+Norbury."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mrs. Norbury?" said Bill, surprised.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a blot
+upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things. Either
+keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come out,
+tell them himself before the news came to them indirectly. Well, he told
+them. But the funny thing is that he told them the day before
+Robert's letter came. Robert came, and was killed, the day before
+yesterday&mdash;Tuesday. Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday. What do
+you make of that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Coincidence," said Bill, after careful thought. "He'd always meant
+to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was finally
+settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got
+Robert's letter, and felt jolly glad that he'd told her in time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it might be that, but it's rather a curious coincidence. And here
+is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred to
+me in the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it's
+this&mdash;he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the
+car."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry, Tony; I'm dense this morning."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"About six hundred yards."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark
+stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says,
+'Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don't think I ever told you that I
+have a shady brother called Robert,' walks six hundred yards up the hill
+again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that likely?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill frowned heavily.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but I don't see what you're getting at. Likely or not likely, we
+know he did do it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong
+reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is
+that he knew on that morning&mdash;Monday morning, not Tuesday&mdash;that Robert
+was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But&mdash;but&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"And that would explain the other point&mdash;his instantaneous decision at
+breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn't instantaneous. He
+knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you would
+all have to know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then how do you explain the letter?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, let's have a look at it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass
+between them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way
+from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal
+your surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or
+thereabouts."
+</p>
+<p>
+"No date mentioned, you see," said Antony. "Just to-morrow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But he got this on Tuesday."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did he?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes! he read it out to you."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the
+back of it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about the postmark?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We haven't got the envelope, unfortunately."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And you think that he got this letter on Monday."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think&mdash;I feel almost
+certain&mdash;that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is that going to help us much?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. It makes it more difficult. There's something rather uncanny about
+it all. I don't understand it." He was silent for a little, and then
+added, "I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What about last night? I'm longing to hear what you make of that. Have
+you been thinking it out at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Last night," said Antony thoughtfully to himself. "Yes, last night
+wants some explaining."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had Antony
+been looking for in the cupboard?
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think," began Antony slowly, "that after last night we must give up
+the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I don't
+believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of clothes
+when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more
+important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that
+Cayley had to hide."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But why not have kept them in the passage?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark's. For all you or I
+or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had, I
+should think."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Probably. But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley. The brown suit
+hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden. We all
+know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most obvious, but in
+practice very few people have the nerve to risk it."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then we just come back to where we were," he complained. "Mark killed
+his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the passage; either
+in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way out of it.
+And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically. "There's only one murder,
+after all. I'm awfully sorry about it. It was my fault for&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Shut up, you ass. You know I didn't mean that."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you seemed awfully disappointed."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh confessed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was so exciting yesterday," he said apologetically, "and we seemed
+to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful things, and
+now&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"And now?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's so much more ordinary."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ordinary!" he cried. "Ordinary! Well, I'm dashed! Ordinary! If only
+one thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do something, but
+everything is ridiculous." Bill brightened up again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ridiculous? How?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Every way. Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night. You can
+explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes. You can explain the
+underclothes in some absurd way, if you like&mdash;you can say that Mark
+always changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed anybody from
+Australia&mdash;but why, in that case, my dear Watson, why didn't he change
+his collar?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"His collar?" said Bill in amazement.
+</p>
+<p>
+"His collar, Watson."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't understand."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And it's all so ordinary," scoffed Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry, Tony, I didn't mean that. Tell me about the collar."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, that's all. There was no collar in the bag last night. Shirt,
+socks, tie&mdash;everything except a collar. Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?" said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Of course. 'Why no collar?' I, said. For some reason Cayley considered
+it necessary to hide all Mark's clothes; not just the suit, but
+everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing, at the time
+of the murder. But he hadn't hidden the collar. Why? Had he left it out
+by mistake? So I looked in the cupboard. It wasn't there. Had he left it
+out on purpose? If so, why?&mdash;and where was it? Naturally I began to say
+to myself, 'Where have I seen a collar lately? A collar all by itself?'
+And I remembered&mdash;what, Bill?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't ask me, Tony. I can't&mdash;By Jove!" He threw up his head, "In the
+basket in the office bedroom!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Exactly."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But is that the one?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The one that goes with the rest of the clothes? I don't know. Where
+else can it be? But if so, why send the collar quite casually to the
+wash in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide everything
+else? Why, why, why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Anyhow," said Antony, getting up restlessly, "I'm certain of one thing.
+Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here."
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0019"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
+</h2>
+<p>
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible
+nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate that afternoon,
+proceeded to outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would be called to
+identify the deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the owner of the
+Red House, Mark Ablett. It would be shown that he was something of a
+ne'er-do-well, who had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he
+had announced, in what might almost be called a threatening letter,
+his intention of visiting his brother that afternoon. There would
+be evidence of his arrival, of his being shown into the scene of the
+tragedy&mdash;a room in the Red House, commonly called "the office"&mdash;and of
+his brother's entrance into that room. The jury would have to form their
+own opinion as to what happened there. But whatever happened, happened
+almost instantaneously. Within two minutes of Mark Ablett's entrance, as
+would be shown in the evidence, a shot was heard, and when&mdash;perhaps five
+minutes later&mdash;the room was forced open, the dead body of Robert Ablett
+was found stretched upon the floor. As regards Mark Ablett, nobody had
+seen him from the moment of his going into the room, but evidence would
+be called to show that he had enough money on him at the time to take
+him to any other part of the country, and that a man answering to
+his description had been observed on the platform of Stanton station,
+apparently waiting to catch the 3.55 up train to London. As the jury
+would realize, such evidence of identity was not always reliable.
+Missing men had a way of being seen in a dozen different places at once.
+In any case, there was no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had
+disappeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Seems a sound man," whispered Antony to Bill. "Doesn't talk too much."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence&mdash;he knew the
+facts of the case so well by now&mdash;but he wondered if Inspector Birch had
+developed any new theories. If so, they would appear in the Coroner's
+examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been coached by the
+police as to the important facts to be extracted from each witness. Bill
+was the first to be put through it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?" he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over. "Did you see it at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I didn't see the actual writing. I saw the back of it. Mark was holding
+it up when he told us about his brother."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You don't know what was in it, then?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill had a sudden shock. He had read the letter only that morning. He
+knew quite well what was in it. But it wouldn't do to admit this. And
+then, just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered: Antony had
+heard Cayley telling the Inspector.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I knew afterwards. I was told. But Mark didn't read it out at
+breakfast."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not frightened. Sort of bitter&mdash;and resigned. Sort of 'Oh, Lord, here
+we are again!'"
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a titter here and there. The Coroner smiled, and tried to
+pretend that he hadn't.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you, Mr. Beverley."
+</p>
+<p>
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and Antony
+looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He lives at the inner lodge," whispered Bill to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his lodge at
+a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to him. He had seen
+the body and recognized it as the man.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did he say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Is this right for the Red House?' or something like that, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did you say?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I said, 'This is the Red House. Who do you want to see?' He was a
+bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn't know what he was doing
+there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, sir, he said, 'Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?' It doesn't sound
+much put like that, sir, but I didn't care about the way he said it.
+So I got in front of him like, and said, 'What do you want, eh?' and he
+gave a sort of chuckle and said, 'I want to see my dear brother Mark.'
+Well, then I took a closer look at him, and I see that p'raps he might
+be his brother, so I said, 'If you'll follow the drive, sir, you'll come
+to the house. Of course I can't say if Mr. Ablett's at home.' And he
+gave a sort of nasty laugh again, and said, 'Fine place Mister Mark
+Ablett's got here. Plenty of money to spend, eh?' Well, then I had
+another look at him, sir, because gentlemen don't talk like that, and
+if he was Mr. Ablett's brother&mdash;but before I could make up my mind, he
+laughed and went on. That's all I can tell you, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room, nor did
+Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos intended to
+remain there until the inquest was over.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who's Amos talking to now?" he whispered to Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Parsons. One of the gardeners. He's at the outside lodge on the Stanton
+road. They're all here to-day. Sort of holiday for 'em.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder if he's giving evidence too," thought Antony. He was. He
+followed Amos. He had been at work on the lawn in front of the house,
+and had seen Robert Ablett arrive. He didn't hear the shot&mdash;not to
+notice. He was a little hard of hearing. He had seen a gentleman arrive
+about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Can you see him in court now?" asked the Coroner. Parsons looked round
+slowly. Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's him," said Parsons, pointing.
+</p>
+<p>
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That was about five minutes afterwards?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"About that, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman's arrival?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, sir. That is to say I didn't see 'em."
+</p>
+<p>
+Stevens followed. She gave her evidence much as she had given it to the
+Inspector. Nothing new was brought out by her examination. Then came
+Elsie. As the reporters scribbled down what she had overheard, they
+added in brackets "Sensation" for the first time that afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>
+"How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?" asked the
+Coroner.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Almost at once, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"A minute?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I couldn't really say, sir. It was so quick."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Were you still in the hall?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no, sir. I was just outside Mrs. Stevens' room. The housekeeper,
+sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You didn't think of going back to the hall to see what had happened?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, no, sir. I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, 'Oh, what
+was that?' frightened-like. And I said, 'That was in the house, Mrs.
+Stevens, that was.' Just like something going off, it was."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you," said the Coroner.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went into
+the witness-box; not "Sensation" this time, but an eager and, as it
+seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest. Now they were getting to grips
+with the drama.
+</p>
+<p>
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally&mdash;the lies with the same
+slow deliberation as the truth. Antony watched him intently, wondering
+what it was about him which had this odd sort of attractiveness. For
+Antony, who knew that he was lying, and lying (as he believed) not for
+Mark's sake but his own, yet could not help sharing some of that general
+sympathy with him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?" asked the Coroner.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not to my knowledge. I think I should have known if he had been."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You were alone with him all that morning. Did he talk about this visit
+of Robert's at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I didn't see very much of him in the morning. I was at work in my room,
+and outside, and so on. We lunched together and he talked of it then a
+little."
+</p>
+<p>
+"In what terms?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well&mdash;" he hesitated, and then went on. "I can't think of a better word
+than 'peevishly.' Occasionally he said, 'What do you think he wants?' or
+'Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?' or 'I don't like the tone
+of his letter. Do you think he means trouble?' He talked rather in that
+kind of way."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in England?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... You didn't hear any conversation between the brothers when they
+were in the office together?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone in, and
+I was there all the time."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was the library door open?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you see or hear the last witness at all?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I think so. Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hasty-tempered, yes," he said. "But not violent-tempered."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was he fairly athletic? Active and quick?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Active and quick, yes. Not particularly strong."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes.... One question more. Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. He always had one 100 pound note on him, and perhaps ten or twenty
+pounds as well."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you, Mr. Cayley."
+</p>
+<p>
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat. "Damn it," said Antony to himself,
+"why do I like the fellow?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Antony Gillingham!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt. Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+</p>
+<p>
+He explained how he came to be staying at 'the George' at Waldheim, how
+he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how he had
+walked over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just after the
+tragedy. Thinking it over afterwards he was fairly certain that he had
+heard the shot, but it had not made any impression on him at the time.
+He had come to the house from the Waldheim end and consequently had seen
+nothing of Robert Ablett, who had been a few minutes in front of him.
+From this point his evidence coincided with Cayley's.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You and the last witness reached the French windows together and found
+them shut?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You pushed them in and came to the body. Of course you had no idea
+whose body it was?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did Mr. Cayley say anything?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he saw
+it, he said, 'Thank God.'"
+</p>
+<p>
+Again the reporters wrote "Sensation."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you understand what he meant by that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett. Then
+he explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with whom he
+lived&mdash;Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Did he seem upset?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very much so at first. Less when he found that it wasn't Mark."
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at the
+back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared sternly
+in the direction from which it came. The nervous gentleman hastily
+decided that the time had come to do up his bootlace. The Coroner put
+down his glasses and continued.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the drive?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."
+</p>
+<p>
+He was followed by Inspector Birch. The Inspector, realizing that
+this was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon
+him, produced a plan of the house and explained the situation of the
+different rooms. The plan was then handed to the jury.
+</p>
+<p>
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House
+at 4.42 p.m. on the afternoon in question. He had been received by Mr.
+Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to him, and he had then
+proceeded to examine the scene of the crime. The French windows had been
+forced from outside. The door leading into the hall was locked; he had
+searched the room thoroughly and had found no trace of a key. In the
+bedroom leading out of the office he had found an open window. There
+were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and, as he found
+from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching it with the
+boots. A few yards outside the window a shrubbery began. There were no
+recent footmarks outside the window, but the ground was in a very hard
+condition owing to the absence of rain. In the shrubbery, however, he
+found several twigs on the ground, recently broken off, together with
+other evidence that some body had been forcing its way through. He had
+questioned everybody connected with the estate, and none of them had
+been into the shrubbery recently. By forcing a way through the shrubbery
+it was possible for a person to make a detour of the house and get to
+the Stanton end of the park without ever being in sight of the house
+itself.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had made inquiries about the deceased. Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble at
+home. Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from which he and
+his brother had come. Deceased and his brother had never been on good
+terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come into money had been a
+cause of great bitterness between them. It was shortly after this that
+Robert had left for Australia.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station. It had been market-day at
+Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than usual.
+Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert Ablett; there had
+been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train that afternoon, the train
+by which Robert had undoubtedly come from London. A witness, however,
+would state that he noticed a man resembling Mark Ablett at the station
+at 3.53 p.m. that afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to
+town.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House. He had dragged this,
+but without result....
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all the
+time. Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be got from
+that. He felt so close to the truth; at any moment something might give
+his brain the one little hint which it wanted. Inspector Birch was just
+pursuing the ordinary. Whatever else this case was, it was not ordinary.
+There was something uncanny about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+John Borden was giving evidence. He was on the up platform seeing a
+friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon. He had noticed a man on the
+platform with coat collar turned up and a scarf round his chin. He had
+wondered why the man should do this on such a hot day. The man seemed to
+be trying to escape observation. Directly the train came in, he hurried
+into a carriage. And so on.
+</p>
+<p>
+"There's always a John Borden at every murder case," said Antony to
+himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Once or twice, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was it he?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar turned
+up and the scarf and all. But directly I heard of the sad affair, and
+that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden, 'Now I wonder if
+that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?' So then we talked it over and
+decided that I ought to come and tell Inspector Birch. It was just Mr.
+Ablett's height, sir."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony went on with his thoughts....
+</p>
+<p>
+The Coroner was summing up. The jury, he said, had now heard all the
+evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that room between
+the two brothers. How had the deceased met his death? The medical
+evidence would probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett had died from
+the effects of a bullet-wound in the head. Who had fired that bullet?
+If Robert Ablett had fired it himself, no doubt they would bring in
+a verdict of suicide, but if this had been so, where was the revolver
+which had fired it, and what had become of Mark Ablett? If they
+disbelieved in this possibility of suicide, what remained? Accidental
+death, justifiable homicide, and murder. Could the deceased have been
+killed accidentally? It was possible, but then would Mark Ablett have
+run away? The evidence that he had run away from the scene of the crime
+was strong. His cousin had seen him go into the room, the servant Elsie
+Wood had heard him quarrelling with his brother in the room, the door
+had been locked from the inside, and there were signs that outside
+the open window some one had pushed his way very recently through the
+shrubbery. Who, if not Mark? They would have then to consider whether he
+would have run away if he had been guiltless of his brother's death. No
+doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes. It was possible that
+if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had shot his brother, it
+might also be proved that he was justified in so doing, and that when he
+ran away from his brother's corpse he had really nothing to fear at the
+hands of the Law. In this connection he need hardly remind the jury that
+they were not the final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett
+guilty of murder it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when
+he was apprehended.... The jury could consider their verdict.
+</p>
+<p>
+They considered it. They announced that the deceased had died as the
+result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired by his
+brother Mark Ablett.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side. But Antony was gone. Across the
+room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the door together, and
+Antony was between them.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0020"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+</h2>
+<p>
+The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton Robert
+Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his
+friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would
+be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley
+would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at
+the back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
+weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. "GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER" it
+announced, to take place on "Wednesday, Decem." Bill smiled to himself
+as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a loquacious postman, had
+been played by "William B. Beverl," as the remnants of the poster still
+maintained, and he had been much less loquacious than the author had
+intended, having forgotten his words completely, but it had all been
+great fun. And then he stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun
+now at the Red House.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him. "My
+old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."
+</p>
+<p>
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled happily at
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little resentfully. "I
+couldn't think where on earth you had got to."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony didn't say anything. He was staring at the poster.
+</p>
+<p>
+"When did this happen?" he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony waved to the poster.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, that? Last Christmas. It was rather fun."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Were you good?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rotten. I don't profess to be an actor."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Mark good?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rather. He loves it."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rev. Henry Stutters&mdash;Mr. Matthew Cay," read Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Was that our friend Cayley?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Any good?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, much better than I expected. He wasn't keen, but Mark made him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Miss Norris wasn't playing, I see."
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Tony, she's a professional. Of course she wasn't."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"A great success, was it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Oh, rather!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm a fool, and a damned fool," Antony announced solemnly. "And a
+damned fool," he said again under his breath, as he led Bill away from
+the poster, and out of the yard into the road. "And a damned fool. Even
+now&mdash;" He broke off and then asked suddenly, "Did Mark ever have much
+trouble with his teeth?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"He went to his dentist a good deal. But what on earth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed a third time.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What luck!" he chuckled. "But how do you know?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me. Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Cartwright in Wimpole Street," repeated Antony thoughtfully. "Yes, I
+can remember that. Cartwright in Wimpole Street. Did Cayley go to him
+too, by any chance?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I expect so. Oh, yes, I know he did. But what on earth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"What was Mark's general health like? Did he see a doctor much?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hardly at all, I should think. He did a lot of early morning exercises
+which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at breakfast. They
+didn't do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty fit. Tony, I wish
+you'd&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+"One last question," he said. "Was Mark fond of swimming?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, he hated it. I don't believe he could swim. Tony, are you mad, or
+am I? Or is this a new game?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Dear old Bill," he said. "It's a game. What a game! And the answer is
+Cartwright in Wimpole Street."
+</p>
+<p>
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to Waldheim.
+Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to talk, but Antony had
+only grunted in reply. He was just going to make another attempt, when
+Antony came to a sudden stop and turned to him anxiously.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder if you'd do something for me," he said, looking at him with
+some doubt.
+</p>
+<p>
+"What sort of thing?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it's really dashed important. It's just the one thing I want
+now."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I say, have you really found it all out?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony nodded.
+</p>
+<p>
+"At least, I'm very nearly there, Bill. There's just this one thing I
+want now. It means your going back to Stanton. Well, we haven't come
+far; it won't take you long. Do you mind?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"My dear Holmes, I am at your service."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is there another inn at Stanton&mdash;fairly close to the station?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The 'Plough and Horses'&mdash;just at the corner where the road goes up to
+the station&mdash;is that the one you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That would be the one. I suppose you could do with a drink, couldn't
+you?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Rather!" said Bill, with a grin.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good. Then have one at the 'Plough and Horses.' Have two, if you like,
+and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you. I want you
+to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Robert?" said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I didn't say Robert," said Antony, smiling. "I just want you to find
+out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night. A stranger.
+If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without letting the
+landlord know that you are interested&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Leave it to me," broke in Bill. "I know just what you want."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Don't assume that it was Robert&mdash;or anybody else. Let them describe the
+man to you. Don't influence them unconsciously by suggesting that he was
+short or tall, or anything of that sort. Just get them talking. If it's
+the landlord, you'd better stand him a drink or two."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right you are," said Bill confidently. "Where do I meet you again?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Probably at 'the George.' If you get there before me, you can order
+dinner for eight o'clock. Anyhow we'll meet at eight, if not before."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good." He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm. Then he
+looked round slowly, as if in search of something. Suddenly he saw what
+he wanted. Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off to the left, and
+there was a gate a little way up on the right-hand side of it. Antony
+walked to the gate, filling his pipe as he went. Then he lit his pipe,
+sat on the gate, and took his head in his hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Now then," he said to himself, "let's begin at the beginning."
+</p>
+<p>
+It was nearly eight o'clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at 'the George,' to find Antony,
+cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting for him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Is dinner ready?" were Bill's first words.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then I'll just have a wash. Lord, I'm tired."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I never ought to have asked you," said Antony penitently.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all right. I shan't be a moment." Half-way up the stairs he
+turned round and asked, "Am I in your room?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Do you know the way?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Start carving, will you? And order lots of beer." He disappeared
+round the top of the staircase. Antony went slowly in.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able to
+spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account of his
+adventures. The landlord of the "Plough and Horses" had been sticky,
+decidedly sticky&mdash;Bill had been unable at first to get anything out of
+him. But Bill had been tactful; lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and
+so on, and how there'd been an inquest in his wife's family once,
+which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, 'Pretty busy, I
+suppose, just now, what?' and then he'd say, 'Middlin',' and go on again
+about Susan&mdash;that was the one that had the inquest&mdash;he talked about it
+as if it were a disease&mdash;and then I'd try again, and say, 'Slack times,
+I expect, just now, eh?' and he'd say 'Middlin' again, and then it was
+time to offer him another drink, and I didn't seem to be getting much
+nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John Borden&mdash;he
+was the man who said he'd seen Mark at the station. Well, he knew all
+about Borden, and after he'd told me all about Borden's wife's family,
+and how one of them had been burnt to death&mdash;after you with the beer;
+thanks&mdash;well, then I said carelessly that it must be very hard to
+remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify him
+afterwards, and he agreed that it would be 'middlin' hard,' and then&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Give me three guesses," interrupted Antony. "You asked him if he
+remembered everybody who came to his inn?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's it. Bright, wasn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Brilliant. And what was the result?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"The result was a woman."
+</p>
+<p>
+"A woman?" said Antony eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"A woman," said Bill impressively. "Of course I thought it was going to
+be Robert&mdash;so did you, didn't you?&mdash;but it wasn't. It was a woman. Came
+quite late on Monday night in a car&mdash;driving herself&mdash;went off early
+next morning."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did he describe her?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. She was middlin'. Middlin' tall, middlin' age, middlin' colour,
+and so on. Doesn't help much, does it? But still&mdash;a woman. Does that
+upset your theory?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shook his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, Bill, not at all," he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You knew all the time? At least, you guessed?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you everything to-morrow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"To-morrow!" said Bill in great disappointment.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing to-night, if you'll promise not to ask
+any more questions. But you probably know it already."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What is it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And Cayley did?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's another question, Bill. However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn't, either."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then who on earth&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Have some more beer," said Antony with a smile. And Bill had to be
+content with that.
+</p>
+<p>
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired. Bill
+slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering. What was
+happening at the Red House now? Perhaps he would hear in the morning;
+perhaps he would get a letter. He went over the whole story again from
+the beginning&mdash;was there any possibility of a mistake? What would the
+police do? Would they ever find out? Ought he to have told them? Well,
+let them find out; it was their job. Surely he couldn't have made a
+mistake this time. No good wondering now; he would know definitely in
+the morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0021"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XXI. Cayley's Apology
+</h2>
+<h3>
+    "My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+</h3>
+<p>
+"I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which
+you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in this
+case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why,
+in these circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your
+intentions I do not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly out
+of sympathy with me. But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you
+will want to know&mdash;and I want you to know&mdash;the exact manner in which
+Ablett met his death and the reasons which made that death necessary. If
+the police have to be told anything, I would rather that they too knew
+the whole story. They, and even you, may call it murder, but by that
+time I shall be out of the way. Let them call it what they like.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago, when
+I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five. His
+whole life was make-believe, and just now he was pretending to be a
+philanthropist. He sat in our little drawing-room, flicking his gloves
+against the back of his left hand, and my mother, good soul, thought
+what a noble young gentleman he was, and Philip and I, hastily washed
+and crammed into collars, stood in front of him, nudging each other and
+kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our hearts for having
+interrupted our game. He had decided to adopt one of us, kind Cousin
+Mark. Heaven knows why he chose me. Philip was eleven; two years longer
+to wait. Perhaps that was why.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, Mark educated me. I went to a public school and to Cambridge,
+and I became his secretary. Well, much more than his secretary as your
+friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land agent, his financial
+adviser, his courier, his&mdash;but this most of all&mdash;his audience. Mark
+could never live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him.
+I think in his heart he hoped I should be his Boswell. He told me one
+day that he had made me his literary executor&mdash;poor devil. And he used
+to write me the absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters
+which I read once and then tore up. The futility of the man!
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been
+hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and
+discovered there that there was not much fun to be got in this world on
+two pounds a week. I had a frantic letter from him one day, saying that
+he must have a hundred at once, or he would be ruined, and I went to
+Mark for the money. Only to borrow it, you understand; he gave me a good
+salary and I could have paid it back in three months. But no. He saw
+nothing for himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no admiration.
+Philip's gratitude would be to me, not to him. I begged, I threatened,
+we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It killed
+my mother&mdash;he was always her favourite&mdash;but Mark, as usual, got his
+satisfaction out of it. He preened himself on his judgment of character
+in having chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+</p>
+<p>
+"Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said
+to him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his
+accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each other,
+from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him see it, I
+was his bitterest enemy. If that had been all, I wonder if I should have
+killed him? To live on terms of intimate friendship with a man whom you
+hate is dangerous work for your friend. Because of his belief in me
+as his admiring and grateful protege and his belief in himself as my
+benefactor, he was now utterly in my power. I could take my time and
+choose my opportunity. Perhaps I should not have killed him, but I had
+sworn to have my revenge&mdash;and there he was, poor vain fool, at my mercy.
+I was in no hurry.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge was
+being taken out of my hands. Mark began to drink. Could I have stopped
+him? I don't think so, but to my immense surprise I found myself trying
+to. Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason; or did I reason it
+out and tell myself that, if he drank himself to death, I should lose
+my revenge? Upon my word, I cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive, I
+did genuinely want to stop it. Drinking is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret. Yes, I kept him outwardly decent;
+and perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim in
+good condition for his own ends. I used to gloat over Mark, thinking how
+utterly he was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially, morally, whatever
+way would give me most satisfaction. I had but to take my hand away from
+him and he sank. But again I was in no hurry.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up with his
+own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the truest and
+purest woman on this earth. You have seen her, Mr. Gillingham, but you
+never knew Mark Ablett. Even if he had not been a drunkard, there was
+no chance for her of happiness with him. I had known him for many years,
+but never once had I seen him moved by any generous emotion. To have
+lived with that shrivelled little soul would have been hell for her; and
+a thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.
+</p>
+<p>
+"So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her, for
+her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin. I would have
+shot him openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but I had no mind
+to sacrifice myself needlessly. He was in my power; I could persuade him
+to almost anything by flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give
+his death the appearance of an accident.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I made
+and rejected. For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate boating
+accident in the pond&mdash;Mark, a very indifferent swimmer, myself almost
+exhausted in a gallant attempt to hold him up. And then he himself gave
+me the idea, he and Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in
+my hands; without risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not
+discovered me.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain, pompous and
+absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was irritated by it.
+After dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost and frightening him.
+I thought it my duty to warn her that Mark took any joke against
+himself badly, but she was determined to do it. I gave way reluctantly.
+Reluctantly, also, I told her the secret of the passage. (There is an
+underground passage from the library to the bowling-green. You should
+exercise your ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to discover it. Mark
+came upon it by accident a year ago. It was a godsend to him; he could
+drink there in greater secrecy. But he had to tell me about it. He
+wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+</p>
+<p>
+"I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that
+Mark should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could
+never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly,
+but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective appearance,
+and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness which I
+required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional actress. I need
+not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling than a
+boyish desire to bring off a good joke&mdash;a joke directed as much against
+the others as against Mark.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was
+to make a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he not
+a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next morning.
+As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it; but never again
+would she come to the Red House&mdash;he was absolutely determined about
+that. I was to make a special note of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved
+very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he
+disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again&mdash;that
+was obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me
+indignantly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Is there a joke?" he said coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I laughed gently again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'I was just thinking,' I said, 'that it would be rather amusing if
+you&mdash;well, had your revenge."
+</p>
+<p>
+"'My revenge? How do you mean?'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Well, paid her back in her own coin.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Do you mean try and frighten her?'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a fool
+in front of the others.' I laughed to myself again. 'Serve her jolly
+well right.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"He jumped up excitedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried. 'If I could! How? You must think of a way.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting. He was an
+amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor
+he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for
+the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an
+admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have
+been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all
+that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving
+us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who
+had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for
+retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth
+Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then
+join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy
+revenge!
+</p>
+<p>
+"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
+Ablett.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested. 'It was just an
+idea.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"He began to think it out for himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her&mdash;but I suppose
+she knows them all. What about an interviewer?'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully. 'You've got rather a
+characteristic face, you know. And your beard&mdash;'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'My dear Mark!'
+</p>
+<p>
+"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it off,
+anyhow. And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm going to do it
+properly.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him admiringly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
+knew that I had him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and moustache you
+might be recognizable. Unless, of course&mdash;' I broke off.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Unless what?'
+</p>
+<p>
+"'You pretend to be Robert.' I began to laugh to myself again. 'By
+Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel
+brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow money
+from her, and that sort of thing.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Robert,' he said. 'Yes. How shall we work it?'
+</p>
+<p>
+"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you
+and the Inspector both discovered. And he was a wastrel and he went to
+Australia. But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday afternoon. He
+couldn't have, because he died (unlamented) three years ago. But there
+was nobody who knew this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only
+one of the family left, his sister having died last year. Though I
+doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was alive or dead. He was not
+talked about.
+</p>
+<p>
+"For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans. You understand
+by now that our aims were not identical. Mark's endeavour was that his
+deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine that it should
+go to the grave with him. He had only to deceive Miss Norris and the
+other guests; I had to deceive the world. When he was dressed up as
+Robert, I was going to kill him. Robert would then be dead, Mark (of
+course) missing. What could anybody think but that Mark had killed
+Robert? But you see how important it was for Mark to enter fully into
+his latest (and last) impersonation. Half-measures would be fatal.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You will say that it was impossible so do the thing thoroughly enough.
+I answer again that you never knew Mark. He was being what he wished
+most to be&mdash;an artist. No Othello ever blacked himself all over with
+such enthusiasm as did Mark. His beard was going anyhow&mdash;possible a
+chance remark of Miss Norbury's helped here. She did not like beards.
+But it was important for me that the dead man's hands should not be the
+hands of a manicured gentleman. Five minutes playing upon the vanity of
+the artist settled his hands. He let the nails grow and then cut them
+raggedly. 'Miss Norris would notice your hands at once,' I had said.
+'Besides, as an artist&mdash;'
+</p>
+<p>
+"So with his underclothes. It was hardly necessary to warn him that
+his pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he had
+already decided upon Robertian pants. I bought them, and other things,
+in London for him. Even if I had not cut out all trace of the maker's
+name, he would instinctively have done it. As an Australian and an
+artist, he could not have an East London address on his underclothes.
+Yes, we were doing the thing thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I
+as a&mdash;well, you may say murderer, if you like. I shall not mind now.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Our plans were settled. I went to London on the Monday and wrote him
+a letter from Robert. (The artistic touch again.) I also bought a
+revolver. On the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival of Robert
+at the breakfast-table. Robert was now alive&mdash;we had six witnesses to
+prove it; six witnesses who knew that he was coming that afternoon. Our
+private plan was that Robert should present himself at three o'clock,
+in readiness for the return of the golfing-party shortly afterwards. The
+maid would go to look for Mark, and having failed to find him, come back
+to the office to find me entertaining Robert in Mark's absence. I
+would explain that Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would myself
+introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table. Mark's absence would not
+excite any comment, for it would be generally felt&mdash;indeed Robert would
+suggest it&mdash;that he had been afraid of meeting his brother. Then Robert
+would make himself amusingly offensive to the guests, particularly, of
+course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke had gone far enough.
+</p>
+<p>
+"That was our private plan. Perhaps I should say that it was Mark's
+private plan. My own was different.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The announcement at breakfast went well. After the golfing-party had
+gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our arrangements. What
+I was chiefly concerned about was to establish as completely as possible
+the identity of Robert. For this reason I suggested to Mark that, when
+dressed, he should go out by the secret passage to the bowling-green,
+and come back by the drive, taking care to enter into conversation
+with the lodge-keeper. In this way I would have two more witnesses
+of Robert's arrival&mdash;first the lodge-keeper, and secondly one of the
+gardeners whom I would have working on the front lawn. Mark, of course,
+was willing enough. He could practise his Australian accent on the
+lodge-keeper. It was really amusing to see how readily he fell into
+every suggestion which I made. Never was a killing more carefully
+planned by its victim.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He changed into Robert's clothes in the office bedroom. This was the
+safest way&mdash;for both of us. When he was ready, he called me in, and
+I inspected him. It was extraordinary how well he looked the part. I
+suppose that the signs of his dissipation had already marked themselves
+on, his face, but had been concealed hitherto by his moustache and
+beard; for now that he was clean-shaven they lay open to the world from
+which we had so carefully hidden them, and he was indeed the wastrel
+which he was pretending to be.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'By Jove, you're wonderful,' I said.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"'Wonderful,' I said to myself again. 'Nobody could possibly guess.'
+</p>
+<p>
+"I peered into the hall. It was empty. We hurried across to the library;
+he got into the passage and made off. I went back to the bedroom,
+collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in a bundle and
+returned with them to the passage. Then I sat down in the hall and
+waited.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid. As soon as she was on her
+way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the office. My hand
+was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the revolver.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He began at once in his character of Robert&mdash;some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private performance
+for my edification. Then in his natural voice, gloating over his
+well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, 'It's my turn
+now. You wait.' It was this which Elsie heard. She had no business to be
+there and she might have ruined everything, but as it turned out it was
+the luckiest thing which could have happened. For it was the one piece
+of evidence which I wanted; evidence, other than my own, that Mark and
+Robert were in the room together.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I said nothing. I was not going to take the risk of being heard to
+speak in that room. I just smiled at the poor little fool, and took
+out my revolver, and shot him. Then I went back into the library and
+waited&mdash;just as I said in my evidence.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden appearance
+gave me? Can you imagine the feelings of a 'murderer' who has (as he
+thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then confronted suddenly
+with an utterly new problem? What difference would your coming make? I
+didn't know. Perhaps none; perhaps all. And I had forgotten to open the
+window!
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a clever
+one. Perhaps not. But if I do deserve any praise in the matter, I think
+I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together in the face of the
+unexpected catastrophe of your arrival. Yes, I got a window open, Mr.
+Gillingham, under your very nose; the right window too, you were kind
+enough to say. And the keys&mdash;yes, that was clever of you, but I think I
+was cleverer. I deceived you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I
+learnt when I took the liberty of listening to a conversation on the
+bowling-green between you and your friend Beverley. Where was I? Ah, you
+must have a look for that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+</p>
+<p>
+"But what am I saying? Did I deceive you at all? You have found out the
+secret&mdash;that Robert was Mark&mdash;and that is all that matters. How have
+you found out? I shall never know now. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps you
+have been deceiving me all the time. Perhaps you knew about the keys,
+about the window, even about the secret passage. You are a clever man,
+Mr. Gillingham.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I had Mark's clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris knew
+it. That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss Norris had
+to know it. So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector having obligingly
+dragged it for me first. A couple of keys joined them, but I kept the
+revolver. Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr. Gillingham?
+</p>
+<p>
+"I don't think that there is any more to tell you. This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There was a time
+when I hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not at the Red
+House, not alone. Perhaps it was never more than an idle day-dream,
+for I am no more worthy of her than Mark was. But I could have made her
+happy, Mr. Gillingham. God, how I would have worked to make her happy!
+But now that is impossible. To offer her the hand of a murderer would be
+as bad as to offer her the hand of a drunkard. And Mark died for that.
+I saw her this morning. She was very sweet. It is a difficult world to
+understand.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, well, we are all gone now&mdash;the Abletts and the Cayleys. I wonder
+what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all. Perhaps it is as well that
+we have died out. Not that there was anything wrong with Sarah&mdash;except
+her temper. And she had the Ablett nose&mdash;you can't do much with that.
+I'm glad she left no children.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham. I'm sorry that your stay with us was not of
+a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in which I was
+placed. Don't let Bill think too badly of me. He is a good fellow; look
+after him. He will be surprised. The young are always surprised. And
+thank you for letting me end my own way. I expect you did sympathize a
+little, you know. We might have been friends in another world&mdash;you and
+I, and I and she. Tell her what you like. Everything or nothing. You
+will know what is best. Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+</p>
+<center>
+"MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+</center>
+<p>
+"I am lonely to-night without Mark. That's funny, isn't it?"
+</p>
+<a name="2HCH0022"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br><br><br><br></div>
+
+<h2>
+    CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
+</h2>
+<p>
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I thought you'd say that," murmured Antony.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I guessed some of it. I didn't quite know all of it, of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Good Lord!" said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a moment he
+was looking up again. "What did you write to him? Was that last night?
+After I'd gone into Stanton?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What did you say? That you'd discovered that Mark was Robert?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph to
+Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence. "Yes, now what was all
+that about? You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a sudden. We'd
+been doing the thing together all the time, and you'd been telling me
+everything, and then suddenly you become very mysterious and private and
+talk enigmatically&mdash;is that the word?&mdash;about dentists and swimming and
+the 'Plough and Horses,' and&mdash;well, what was it all about? You simply
+vanished out of sight; I didn't know what on earth we were talking
+about."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry, Bill. I felt like that suddenly. Just for the last half-hour;
+just to end up with. I'll tell you everything now. Not that there's
+anything to tell, really. It seems so easy when you know it&mdash;so obvious.
+About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street. Of course he was just to
+identify the body."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Who could do it better? Could you have done it? How could you? You'd
+never gone bathing with Mark; you'd never seen him stripped. He didn't
+swim. Could his doctor do it? Not unless he'd had some particular
+operation, and perhaps not then. But his dentists could&mdash;at any time,
+always&mdash;if he had been to his dentist fairly often. Hence Mr. Cartwright
+of Wimpole Street."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see. And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright to
+identify the body?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. And then of course it was all up for him. Once we knew that Robert
+was Mark we knew everything."
+</p>
+<p>
+"How did you know?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm not sure that I can say, Bill. You know those problems in Algebra
+where you say, 'Let x be the answer,' and then you work it out and find
+what x is. Well, that's one way; and another way, which they never give
+you any marks for at school, is to guess the answer. Pretend the answer
+is 4&mdash;well, will that satisfy the conditions of the problem? No. Then
+try 6; and if 6 doesn't either, then what about 5?&mdash;and so on. Well, the
+Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had guessed their answer, and
+it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn't really fit; there were
+several conditions in the problem which it didn't fit at all. So we knew
+that their answer was wrong, and we had to think of another&mdash;an answer
+which explained all the things which were puzzling us. Well, I happened
+to guess the right one. Got a match?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but that doesn't quite do, old boy. Something must have put you
+on to it suddenly. By the way, I'll have my matches back, if you don't
+mind."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Sorry.... Well then, let's see if I can go through my own mind again,
+and tell you how I guessed it. First of all, the clothes."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I didn't
+quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's position the
+smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For some
+reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the clothes
+which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the
+inside ones as well as the outside ones. I didn't know why, but I
+did feel certain that, in that case, the absence of the collar was
+unintentional. In collecting the clothes he had overlooked the collar.
+Why?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was the one in the linen-basket?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. It seemed probable. Why had Cayley put it there? The obvious
+answer was that he hadn't. Mark had put it there. I remembered what you
+told me about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and so on,
+and I felt that he was just the sort of man who would never wear the
+same collar twice." He paused, and then asked, "Is that right, do you
+think?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Absolutely," said Bill with conviction.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I guessed it was. So then I began to see an x which would fit
+just this part of the problem&mdash;the clothes part. I saw Mark changing
+his clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar in the
+linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar he had ever
+taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a chair in
+the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the clothes
+afterwards&mdash;all the visible clothes&mdash;and not realizing that the collar
+wasn't there."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Go on," said Bill eagerly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation of
+it. Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom? The only
+answer was that the fact of his changing had to be kept secret. When did
+he change? The only possible time was between lunch (when he would be
+seen by the servants) and the moment of Robert's arrival. And when
+did Cayley collect the clothes in a bundle? Again, the only answer was
+'Before Robert's arrival.' So another x was wanted&mdash;to fit those three
+conditions."
+</p>
+<p>
+"And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Well now, it couldn't be intended on the strength of that letter,
+unless there was very much more behind the letter than we knew. Nor was
+it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation than
+the changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing was too
+childish. Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the way to
+announce his existence to you all&mdash;even, at the cost of some trouble, to
+Mrs. Norbury? What did it all mean? I didn't know. But I began to
+feel now that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of
+Cayley's against Mark&mdash;either to get him to kill his brother, or to
+get his brother to kill him&mdash;and that for some inexplicable reason Mark
+seemed to be lending himself to the plot." He was silent for a little,
+and then said, almost to himself, "I had seen the empty brandy bottles
+in that cupboard."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You never said anything about them" complained Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you remember.
+They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel about
+it.... Poor devil!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Go on," said Bill.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
+you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the
+second lodge and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons. That
+made it more curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his way
+to speak to him; had called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that
+his wife was out in their little garden at the first lodge all the
+afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never come past it. He also
+told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn
+that afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
+passage&mdash;the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job
+between Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark
+knowing? Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"When was this?" interrupted Bill. "Just after the inquest&mdash;after you'd
+seen Amos and Parsons, of course?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I'd got back to
+the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly? Disguise?
+But then what about his face? That was much more important than clothes.
+His face, his beard&mdash;he'd have to shave off his beard&mdash;and then&mdash;oh,
+idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark
+disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert.... Matches, please."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
+pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into
+the other's pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes," said Bill thoughtfully. "Yes.... But wait a moment. What about
+the 'Plough and Horses'?" Antony looked comically at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You'll never forgive me, Bill," he said. "You'll never come
+clue-hunting with me again."
+</p>
+<p>
+"What do you mean?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony sighed.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
+alone. I'd guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it&mdash;to test it every
+way, by everything we'd discovered. I simply had to be alone just then.
+So&mdash;" he smiled and added, "Well, I knew you wanted a drink."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You are a devil," said Bill, staring at him. "And your interest when I
+told you that a woman had been staying there&mdash;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, it was only polite to be interested when you'd taken so much
+trouble."
+</p>
+<p>
+"You brute! You&mdash;you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
+matches. Well, go on."
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's all. My x fitted."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, not quite. I didn't realize that Cayley had worked for it from
+the beginning&mdash;had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
+he'd just seized the opportunity."
+</p>
+<p>
+Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
+slowly, "Has Cayley shot himself?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Poor devil," said Bill. "It was decent of you to give him a chance. I'm
+glad you did."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I couldn't help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know."
+</p>
+<p>
+"He's a clever devil. If you hadn't turned up just when you did, he
+would never have been found out."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I wonder. It was ingenious, but it's often the ingenious thing which
+gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley's point of view was that,
+though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
+Well, that doesn't often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
+discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not&mdash;but an
+amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of how he killed Mark,
+but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he had
+killed him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, there's something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did
+Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"That's puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just doing
+the Othello business&mdash;painting himself black all over. I mean he may
+have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to
+believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he
+felt that, having told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss
+Norbury, in case she met one of you; in which case, if you mentioned the
+approaching arrival of Robert, she might say, 'Oh, I'm certain he has
+no brother; he would have told me if he had,' and so spoil his joke.
+Possibly, too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many
+people as possible to know about Robert."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Are you going to tell the police?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, I suppose they'll have to know. Cayley may have left another
+confession. I hope he won't give me away; you see, I've been a sort of
+accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss Norbury."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I asked," explained Bill, "because I was wondering what I should say
+to&mdash;to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she's bound to ask."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Perhaps you won't see her again for a long, long time," said Antony
+sadly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Well, you had better tell her. You're obviously longing to. Only don't
+let her say anything for a day or two. I'll write to you."
+</p>
+<p>
+"Righto!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Barringtons," he said. "Large party?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Fairly, I think."
+</p>
+<p>
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes. Well, if any of 'em should happen to be murdered, you might send
+for me. I'm just getting into the swing of it."
+</p>
+
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 1872-h.htm or 1872-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1872/
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/20081106-1872-h.zip b/old/20081106-1872-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e9d77df
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/20081106-1872-h.zip
diff --git a/old/20081106-1872.txt b/old/20081106-1872.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1877d61
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/20081106-1872.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8679 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Posting Date: November 6, 2008 [EBook #1872]
+Release Date: August, 1999
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY
+
+By A. A. Milne
+
+
+
+   TO
+   JOHN VINE MILNE
+   MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+   Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective
+   stories, and feel that there are not enough of them.  So, after
+   all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you
+   is to write you one.   Here it is: with more gratitude and
+   affection than I can well put down here.
+
+   A.A.M.
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+I. MRS. STEVENS IS FRIGHTENED
+
+II. MR. GILLINGHAM GETS OUT AT THE WRONG STATION
+
+III. TWO MEN AND A BODY
+
+IV. THE BROTHER FROM AUSTRALIA
+
+V. MR. GILLINGHAM CHOOSES A NEW PROFESSION
+
+VI. OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?
+
+VII. PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+VIII. "DO YOU FOLLOW ME, WATSON?"
+
+IX. POSSIBILITIES OF A CROQUET SET
+
+X. MR. GILLINGHAM TALKS NONSENSE
+
+XI. THE REVEREND THEODORE USSHER
+
+XII. A SHADOW ON THE WALL
+
+XIII. THE OPEN WINDOW
+
+XIV. MR. BEVERLEY QUALIFIES FOR THE STAGE
+
+XV. MRS. NORBURY CONFIDES IN DEAR MR. GILLINGHAM
+
+XVI. GETTING READY FOR THE NIGHT
+
+XVII. MR. BEVERLEY TAKES THE WATER
+
+XVIII. GUESS-WORK
+
+XIX. THE INQUEST
+
+XX. MR. BEVERLEY IS TACTFUL
+
+XXI. CAYLEY'S APOLOGY
+
+XXII. MR. BEVERLEY MOVES ON
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+
+
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its
+siesta. There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms. From distant lawns came
+the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds;
+making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while others are working.
+
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to
+the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves. In the
+housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid, re-trimmed
+her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the cook-housekeeper of Mr.
+Mark Ablett's bachelor home.
+
+"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat. Audrey
+nodded. She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat for it,
+and said, "He likes a bit of pink."
+
+"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt. "Joe Turner
+isn't the only one."
+
+"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out at arm's
+length, and regarding it thoughtfully. "Stylish, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your
+age. A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some other
+people, I daresay. I was never the one to pretend to be what I wasn't.
+If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five--that's what I say."
+
+"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"
+
+"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with great
+dignity.
+
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails
+critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+
+"Funny thing that about Mr. Mark's brother. Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years." She gave a self-conscious laugh and went on,
+"Wonder what I should do if I didn't see Joe for fifteen years."
+
+"As I told you all this morning," said her aunt, "I've been here five
+years, and never heard of a brother. I could say that before everybody
+if I was going to die to-morrow. There's been no brother here while I've
+been here."
+
+"You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about him
+at breakfast this morning. I didn't hear what went before, naturally,
+but they was all talking about the brother when I went in--now what
+was it I went in for--hot milk, was it, or toast?--well, they was
+all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says--you know his
+way--'Stevens,' he says, 'my brother is coming to see me this afternoon;
+I'm expecting him about three,' he says. 'Show him into the office,' he
+says, just like that. 'Yes, sir,' I says quite quietly, but I was never
+so surprised in my life, not knowing he had a brother. 'My brother from
+Australia,' he says--there, I'd forgotten that. From Australia."
+
+"Well, he may have been in Australia," said Mrs. Stevens, judicially; "I
+can't say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say is he's
+never been here. Not while I've been here, and that's five years."
+
+"Well, but, auntie, he hasn't been here for fifteen years. I heard Mr.
+Mark telling Mr. Cayley. 'Fifteen years,' he says. Mr. Cayley having
+arst him when his brother was last in England. Mr. Cayley knew of him,
+I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn't know when he was last in
+England--see? So that's why he arst Mr. Mark."
+
+"I'm not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey. I can only speak
+for what I know, and that's five years Whitsuntide. I can take my oath
+he's not set foot in the house since five years Whitsuntide. And if he's
+been in Australia, as you say, well, I daresay he's had his reasons."
+
+"What reasons?" said Audrey lightly.
+
+"Never mind what reasons. Being in the place of a mother to you, since
+your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey--when a gentleman goes to
+Australia, he has his reasons. And when he stays in Australia fifteen
+years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself for five years, he
+has his reasons. And a respectably brought-up girl doesn't ask what
+reasons."
+
+"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly. "They were saying
+at breakfast he'd been a wild one. Debts. I'm glad Joe isn't like that.
+He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings' bank. Did I tell
+you?"
+
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon. The
+ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet--no longer Audrey, but now
+Stevens. She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+
+"There, that's the front door," she said. "That's him. 'Show him into
+the office,' said Mr. Mark. I suppose he doesn't want the other
+ladies and gentlemen to see him. Well, they're all out at their golf,
+anyhow--Wonder if he's going to stay--P'raps he's brought back a lot of
+gold from Australia--I might hear something about Australia, because if
+anybody can get gold there, then I don't say but what Joe and I--"
+
+"Now, now, get on, Audrey."
+
+"Just going, darling." She went out.
+
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the open
+door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall, of which
+even the mere sight was cooling. It was a big low-roofed,
+oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows,
+blue-curtained. On the right and left were doors leading into other
+living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were
+windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open windows
+to open windows such air as there was played gently. The staircase went
+up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the
+left, led you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall,
+to your bedroom. That is, if you were going to stay the night. Mr.
+Robert Ablett's intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw Mr.
+Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one of the
+front windows, reading. No reason why he shouldn't be there; certainly
+a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but somehow there
+was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as if all the guests
+were outside, or--perhaps the wisest place of all--up in their bedrooms,
+sleeping. Mr. Cayley, the master's cousin, was a surprise; and, having
+given a little exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed,
+and said, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn't see you at first," and
+he looked up from his book and smiled at her. An attractive smile it was
+on that big ugly face. "Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley," she thought to
+herself as she went on, and wondered what the master would do without
+him. If this brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia,
+it was Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+
+"So this is Mr. Robert," said Audrey to herself, as she came in sight of
+the visitor.
+
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere for
+Mr. Mark's brother, but she would have said that in any event. Actually
+she was surprised. Dapper little Mark, with his neat pointed beard and
+his carefully curled moustache; with his quick-darting eyes, always
+moving from one to the other of any company he was in, to register
+one more smile to his credit when he had said a good thing, one more
+expectant look when he was only waiting his turn to say it; he was
+a very different man from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial,
+staring at her so loweringly.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett," he growled. It sounded almost like a
+threat.
+
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him. She had a smile
+for everybody.
+
+"Yes, sir. He is expecting you, if you will come this way."
+
+"Oh! So you know who I am, eh?"
+
+"Mr. Robert Ablett?"
+
+"Ay, that's right. So he's expecting me, eh? He'll be glad to see me,
+eh?"
+
+"If you will come this way, sir," said Audrey primly.
+
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+
+"Mr. Robert Ab--" she began, and then broke off. The room was empty. She
+turned to the man behind her. "If you will sit down, sir, I will find
+the master. I know he's in, because he told me that you were coming this
+afternoon."
+
+"Oh!" He looked round the room. "What d'you call this place, eh?"
+
+"The office, sir."
+
+"The office?"
+
+"The room where the master works, sir."
+
+"Works, eh? That's new. Didn't know he'd ever done a stroke of work in
+his life."
+
+"Where he writes, sir," said Audrey, with dignity. The fact that Mr.
+Mark "wrote," though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the
+housekeeper's room.
+
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?"
+
+"I will tell the master you are here, sir," said Audrey decisively.
+
+She closed the door and left him there.
+
+Well! Here was something to tell auntie! Her mind was busy at once,
+going over all the things which he had said to her and she had said to
+him--quiet-like. "Directly I saw him I said to myself--" Why, you could
+have knocked her over with a feather. Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual
+menace to Audrey.
+
+However, the immediate business was to find the master. She walked
+across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little
+uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+
+"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can you tell
+me where the master is? It's Mr. Robert called."
+
+"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book. "Who?"
+
+Audrey repeated her question.
+
+"I don't know. Isn't he in the office? He went up to the Temple after
+lunch. I don't think I've seen him since."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I will go up to the Temple."
+
+Cayley returned to his book.
+
+The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back of
+the house, about three hundred yards away. Here Mark meditated sometimes
+before retiring to the "office" to put his thoughts upon paper. The
+thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they were given off at
+the dinner-table more often than they got on to paper, and got on to
+paper more often than they got into print. But that did not prevent
+the master of The Red House from being a little pained when a visitor
+treated the Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the
+ordinary purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking. There had been an
+occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in it. Mark
+had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little less than his
+usual point--whether they couldn't find anywhere else for their game,
+but the offenders were never asked to The Red House again.
+
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly back.
+All that walk for nothing. Perhaps the master was upstairs in his room.
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room." Well, now, Auntie, would
+you like anyone in your drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his
+neck and great big dusty boots, and--listen! One of the men shooting
+rabbits. Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce. How hot
+it was; she wouldn't say no to a cup of tea. Well, one thing, Mr. Robert
+wasn't staying the night; he hadn't any luggage. Of course Mr. Mark
+could lend him things; he had clothes enough for six. She would have
+known him anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother.
+
+She came into the house. As she passed the housekeeper's room on her
+way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather frightened face
+looked out.
+
+"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie. "It's Audrey," she said, turning into the
+room.
+
+"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn. Where have you been?"
+
+"Up to the Temple."
+
+"Did you hear anything?"
+
+"Hear what?"
+
+"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
+
+"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved. "One of the men shooting rabbits.
+Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's partial to a nice
+rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised if--"
+
+"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully. "It was inside the house, my girl."
+
+"Straight it was," said Elsie. She was one of the housemaids. "I said to
+Mrs. Stevens--didn't I, Mrs. Stevens?--'That was in the house,' I said."
+
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+
+"Do you think he had a revolver with him?" she said in a hushed voice.
+
+"Who?" said Elsie excitedly.
+
+"That brother of his. From Australia. I said as soon as I set eyes on
+him, 'You're a bad lot, my man!' That's what I said, Elsie. Even before
+he spoke to me. Rude!" She turned to her aunt. "Well, I give you my
+word."
+
+"If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with anyone
+from Australia." Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair, breathing rather
+rapidly. "I wouldn't go out of this room now, not if you paid me a
+hundred thousand pounds."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Stevens!" said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for a
+new pair of shoes, "I wouldn't go as far as that, not myself, but--"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start. They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older
+woman's chair.
+
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+
+They heard a man's voice, loud, angry.
+
+"Open the door!" it was shouting. "Open the door! I say, open the door!"
+
+"Don't open the door!" cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was her
+door which was threatened. "Audrey! Elsie! Don't let him in!"
+
+"Damn it, open the door!" came the voice again.
+
+"We're all going to be murdered in our beds," she quavered. Terrified,
+the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens
+sat there, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+
+
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view, but
+it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the subject of
+his early life. However, stories get about. There is always somebody
+who knows. It was understood--and this, anyhow, on Mark's own
+authority--that his father had been a country clergyman. It was said
+that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some
+rich old spinster of the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education,
+both at school and university. At about the time when he was coming down
+from Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few debts,
+as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons, as an
+example to his successor. Neither warning nor example seems to have been
+effective. Mark went to London, with an allowance from his patron, and
+(it is generally agreed) made acquaintance with the money-lenders.
+He was supposed, by his patron and any others who inquired, to be
+"writing"; but what he wrote, other than letters asking for more time
+to pay, has never been discovered. However, he attended the theatres
+and music halls very regularly--no doubt with a view to some serious
+articles in the "Spectator" on the decadence of the English stage.
+
+Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died during his third
+year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. From that moment
+his life loses its legendary character, and becomes more a matter of
+history. He settled accounts with the money-lenders, abandoned his
+crop of wild oats to the harvesting of others, and became in his turn a
+patron. He patronized the Arts. It was not only usurers who discovered
+that Mark Ablett no longer wrote for money; editors were now offered
+free contributions as well as free lunches; publishers were given
+agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the author paid
+all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young painters and
+poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour,
+playing host and "lead" with equal lavishness.
+
+He was not what most people call a snob. A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a mean
+lover of mean things--which would be a little unkind to the peerage if
+the first definition were true. Mark had his vanities undoubtedly, but
+he would sooner have met an actor-manager than an earl; he would have
+spoken of his friendship with Dante--had that been possible--more glibly
+than of his friendship with the Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but
+not the worst kind of snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not
+Society; a climber, but in the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts. It also included Matthew Cayley,
+a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as limited as had
+been Mark's own before his patron had rescued him. He sent the Cayley
+cousin to school and Cambridge. His motives, no doubt, were unworldly
+enough at first; a mere repaying to his account in the Recording Angel's
+book of the generosity which had been lavished on himself; a laying-up
+of treasure in heaven. But it is probable that, as the boy grew up,
+Mark's designs for his future were based on his own interests as much
+as those of his cousin, and that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of
+twenty-three was felt by him to be a useful property for a man in his
+position; a man, that is to say, whose vanities left him so little time
+for his affairs.
+
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin's affairs. By
+this time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable amount of
+land which went with it. Cayley superintended the necessary staff.
+His duties, indeed, were many. He was not quite secretary, not quite
+land-agent, not quite business-adviser, not quite companion, but
+something of all four. Mark leant upon him and called him "Cay,"
+objecting quite rightly in the circumstances to the name of Matthew.
+Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable; a big, heavy-jawed, solid
+fellow, who didn't bother you with unnecessary talk--a boon to a man who
+liked to do most of the talking himself.
+
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which
+was his patron's age. Spasmodically they entertained a good deal at the
+Red House, and Mark's preference--call it kindliness or vanity, as
+you please--was for guests who were not in a position to repay his
+hospitality. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that
+breakfast, of which Stevens, the parlour-maid, has already given us a
+glimpse.
+
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel
+trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural history
+articles for the papers. He inspected the dishes on the side-table,
+decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it. He had passed on
+to a sausage by the time of the next arrival. This was Bill Beverly, a
+cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+
+"Hallo, Major," he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
+
+"It isn't gout," said the Major gruffly.
+
+"Well, whatever it is."
+
+The Major grunted.
+
+"I make a point of being polite at breakfast," said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge. "Most people are so rude. That's why I
+asked you. But don't tell me if it's a secret. Coffee?" he added, as he
+poured himself out a cup.
+
+"No, thanks. I never drink till I've finished eating."
+
+"Quite right, Major; it's only manners." He sat down opposite to the
+other. "Well, we've got a good day for our game. It's going to be dashed
+hot, but that's where Betty and I score. On the fifth green, your old
+wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in '43, will begin to
+trouble you; on the eighth, your liver, undermined by years of curry,
+will drop to pieces; on the twelfth--"
+
+"Oh, shut up, you ass!"
+
+"Well, I'm only warning you. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. I was
+just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him this
+morning. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own
+breakfast?"
+
+"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris. "I'll help myself. Good
+morning, Major." She smiled pleasantly at him. The Major nodded.
+
+"Good morning. Going to be hot."
+
+"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where--Hallo, here's Betty.
+Morning, Cayley."
+
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the painter,
+who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark. Ruth Norris took
+herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as a
+golfer. She was quite competent as either. Neither the Stage Society nor
+Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+
+"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley, looking up
+from his letters. "You're lunching there, and driving back directly
+afterwards. Isn't that right?"
+
+"I don't see why we shouldn't have--two rounds," said Bill hopefully.
+
+"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major. "Get back comfortably
+for tea."
+
+Mark came in. He was generally the last. He greeted them and sat down to
+toast and tea. Breakfast was not his meal. The others chattered gently
+while he read his letters.
+
+"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
+
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him. "I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris. Sorry, Betty."
+
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness. She often wanted to say it herself,
+particularly at rehearsals.
+
+"I say, Cay!" He was frowning to himself--annoyed, puzzled. He held up a
+letter and shook it. "Who do you think this is from?"
+
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders. How could
+he possibly guess?
+
+"Robert," said Mark.
+
+"Robert?" It was difficult to surprise Cayley. "Well?"
+
+"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark peevishly.
+"He's coming here this afternoon."
+
+"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
+
+"Of course. So did I." He looked across at Rumbold. "Got any brothers,
+Major?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
+
+"Not likely to now," said the Major.
+
+Bill laughed. Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any brothers,
+Mr. Ablett?"
+
+"One," said Mark grimly. "If you're back in time you'll see him this
+afternoon. He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds. Don't."
+
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow from
+him."
+
+"Like Robert," said Mark.
+
+"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
+
+"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it? You'd have been a boy, of course."
+
+"Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn't know if he had
+been back since."
+
+"No. Not to my knowledge." Mark, still obviously upset, returned to his
+letter.
+
+"Personally," said Bill, "I think relations are a great mistake."
+
+"All the same," said Betty a little daringly, "it must be rather fun
+having a skeleton in the cupboard."
+
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+
+"If you think it's fun, I'll hand him over to you, Betty. If he's
+anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have been--well,
+Cay knows."
+
+Cayley grunted.
+
+"All I knew was that one didn't ask questions about him."
+
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to ask
+more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely in
+front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere statement of
+fact. But the subject dropped, to be succeeded by the more fascinating
+one of the coming foursome. Mrs. Calladine was driving over with the
+players in order to lunch with an old friend who lived near the links,
+and Mark and Cayley were remaining at home--on affairs. Apparently
+"affairs" were now to include a prodigal brother. But that need not make
+the foursome less enjoyable.
+
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing
+his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their
+business at the Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of Antony
+Gillingham was handing up his ticket at Woodham station and asking the
+way to the village. Having received directions, he left his bag with the
+station-master and walked off leisurely. He is an important person to
+this story, so that it is as well we should know something about him
+before letting him loose in it. Let us stop him at the top of the hill
+on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking
+than we are. Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type usually
+associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes which seem
+to be absorbing every detail of our person. To strangers this look is
+almost alarming at first, until they discover that his mind is very
+often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left his eyes on guard, while
+he himself follows a train of thought in another direction. Many people
+do this, of course; when, for instance, they are talking to one person
+and trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them. Antony's
+never did.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never as a
+sailor. When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother's money,
+400 pounds a year, old Gillingham looked up from the "Stockbreeders'
+Gazette" to ask what he was going to do.
+
+"See the world," said Antony.
+
+"Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to."
+
+"Right," said Antony.
+
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper. Antony was a younger son, and,
+on the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets of certain
+other families; Champion Birket's, for instance. But, then, Champion
+Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London. His
+idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people; and to
+see them from as many angles as possible. There are all sorts in London
+if you know how to look at them. So Antony looked at them--from
+various strange corners; from the view-point of the valet, the
+newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the shop-assistant. With the
+independence of 400 pounds a year behind him, he enjoyed it immensely.
+He never stayed long in one job, and generally closed his connection
+with it by telling his employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood
+between master and servant) exactly what he thought of him. He had
+no difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and
+testimonials he offered his personality and a sporting bet. He would
+take no wages the first month, and--if he satisfied his employer--double
+wages the second. He always got his double wages.
+
+He was now thirty. He had come to Waldheim for a holiday, because
+he liked the look of the station. His ticket entitled him to travel
+further, but he had always intended to please himself in the matter.
+Waldheim attracted him, and he had a suit-case in the carriage with him
+and money in his pocket. Why not get out?
+
+The landlady of 'The George' was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+
+"And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir."
+
+"Yes, but don't give yourself any trouble about it. Cold
+anything-you've-got."
+
+"What about beef, sir?" she asked, as if she had a hundred varieties of
+meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+
+"That will do splendidly. And a pint of beer."
+
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about the
+luggage. Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+
+"It must be rather fun to keep a country inn," he said, thinking that it
+was about time he started another profession.
+
+"I don't know about fun, sir. It gives us a living, and a bit over."
+
+"You ought to take a holiday," said Antony, looking at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Funny thing your saying that," said the landlord, with a smile.
+"Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday. Offered to take my place 'n all." He laughed rumblingly.
+
+"The Red House? Not the Red House, Stanton?"
+
+"That's right, sir. Stanton's the next station to Waldheim. The Red
+House is about a mile from here--Mr. Ablett's."
+
+Antony took a letter from his pocket. It was addressed from "The Red
+House, Stanton," and signed "Bill."
+
+"Good old Bill," he murmured to himself. "He's getting on."
+
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist's shop.
+Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley on the
+other. Something about Bill, his youth and freshness, perhaps, attracted
+Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered, and an address given to
+which they were to be sent, he remembered that he had come across an
+aunt of Beverley's once at a country-house. Beverley and he met again
+a little later at a restaurant. Both of them were in evening-dress, but
+they did different things with their napkins, and Antony was the more
+polite of the two. However, he still liked Bill. So on one of his
+holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an introduction through a
+mutual friend. Beverley was a little inclined to be shocked when he was
+reminded of their previous meetings, but his uncomfortable feeling soon
+wore off, and he and Antony quickly became intimate. But Bill generally
+addressed him as "Dear Madman" when he happened to write.
+
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and call
+upon his friend. Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite the
+lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but sufficiently clean
+and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of the
+house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a gentle
+cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant lawns the
+whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country sounds....
+
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting, "Open
+the door, I say; open the door!"
+
+"Hallo!" said Antony in amazement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. Two Men and a Body
+
+
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+
+"Can I help?" said Antony politely.
+
+"Something's happened," said Cayley. He was breathing quickly. "I heard
+a shot--it sounded like a shot--I was in the library. A loud bang--I
+didn't know what it was. And the door's locked." He rattled the handle
+again, and shook it. "Open the door!" he cried. "I say, Mark, what is
+it? Open the door!"
+
+"But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony. "So why
+should he open it just because you ask him to?"
+
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way. Then he turned to the door
+again. "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder to it. "Help
+me."
+
+"Isn't there a window?"
+
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+
+"Window? Window?"
+
+"So much easier to break in a window," said Antony with a smile. He
+looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall,
+leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of fuss
+was being made about nothing. But then, he had not heard the shot.
+
+"Window--of course! What an idiot I am."
+
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive. Antony
+followed him. They ran along the front of the house, down a path to the
+left, and then to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front, the
+other close behind him. Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder and
+pulled up short.
+
+"Here," he said.
+
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which
+opened on to the lawns at the back of the house. But now they were
+closed. Antony couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement as he
+followed Cayley's example, and put his face close up to the glass. For
+the first time he wondered if there really had been a revolver shot in
+this mysterious room. It had all seemed so absurd and melodramatic from
+the other side of the door. But if there had been one shot, why should
+there not be two more?--at the careless fools who were pressing their
+noses against the panes, and asking for it.
+
+"My God, can you see it?" said Cayley in a shaking voice. "Down there.
+Look!"
+
+The next moment Antony saw it. A man was lying on the floor at the far
+end of the room, his back towards them. A man? Or the body of a man?
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"I don't know," the other whispered.
+
+"Well, we'd better go and see." He considered the windows for a moment.
+"I should think, if you put your weight into it, just where they join,
+they'll give all right. Otherwise, we can kick the glass in."
+
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it. The window gave,
+and they went into the room. Cayley walked quickly to the body, and
+dropped on his knees by it. For the moment he seemed to hesitate; then
+with an effort he put a hand on to its shoulder and pulled it over.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"Robert Ablett."
+
+"Oh!" said Antony. "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more to
+himself than to the other.
+
+"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother." He shuddered, and
+said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
+
+"Was Mark in the room too?"
+
+"Yes," said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
+
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle. "I
+suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he came back to the
+body again.
+
+"Who?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor. "Is he
+dead?"
+
+"Help me," said Cayley simply.
+
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at it.
+Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not a pleasant
+sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for the man beside
+him, and a sudden remorse for the careless, easy way in which he had
+treated the affair. But then one always went about imagining that
+these things didn't happen--except to other people. It was difficult to
+believe in them just at first, when they happened to yourself.
+
+"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly. He meant, "Were you fond
+of him?"
+
+"Hardly at all. Mark is my cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother I know
+best."
+
+"Your cousin?"
+
+"Yes." He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead? I suppose he is. Will
+you--do you know anything about--about that sort of thing? Perhaps I'd
+better get some water."
+
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as Antony
+was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from which opened
+two more rooms. Cayley stepped into the passage, and opened the door on
+the right. The door from the office, through which he had gone, remained
+open. The door, at the end of the short passage was shut. Antony,
+kneeling by the body, followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had
+disappeared, kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but he was
+not conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was with the
+other man, sympathizing with him.
+
+"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself, "but the
+feeling that you're doing something, when there's obviously nothing to
+be done, is a great comfort."
+
+Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded. Cayley
+murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's face. Then he
+placed the handkerchief over it. A little sigh escaped Antony, a sigh of
+relief.
+
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+
+"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
+
+"That's very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police, doctors--I
+don't know. But you mustn't let me trespass on your kindness. Indeed, I
+should apologise for having trespassed so much already."
+
+"I came to see Beverley. He is an old friend of mine."
+
+"He's out playing golf. He will be back directly." Then, as if he had
+only just realized it, "They will all be back directly."
+
+"I will stay if I can be of any help."
+
+"Please do. You see, there are women. It will be rather painful. If you
+would--" He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile, pathetic
+in so big and self-reliant a man. "Just your moral support, you know. It
+would be something."
+
+"Of course." Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully, "Well,
+then, I'll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the police."
+
+"The police? Y-yes." He looked doubtfully at the other. "I suppose--"
+
+Antony spoke frankly.
+
+"Now, look here, Mr.--er--"
+
+"Cayley. I'm Mark Ablett's cousin. I live with him."
+
+"My name's Gillingham. I'm sorry, I ought to have told you before. Well
+now, Mr. Cayley, we shan't do any good by pretending. Here's a man been
+shot--well, somebody shot him."
+
+"He might have shot himself," mumbled Cayley.
+
+"Yes, he might have, but he didn't. Or if he did, somebody was in the
+room at the time, and that somebody isn't here now. And that somebody
+took a revolver away with him. Well, the police will want to say a word
+about that, won't they?"
+
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+
+"Oh, I know what you're thinking, and believe me I do sympathize with
+you, but we can't be children about it. If your cousin Mark Ablett was
+in the room with this"--he indicated the body--"this man, then--"
+
+"Who said he was?" said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at Antony.
+
+"You did."
+
+"I was in the library. Mark went in--he may have come out again--I know
+nothing. Somebody else may have gone in--"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Antony patiently, as if to a little child. "You know
+your cousin; I don't. Let's agree that he had nothing to do with it. But
+somebody was in the room when this man was shot, and--well, the police
+will have to know. Don't you think--" He looked at the telephone. "Or
+would you rather I did it?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+
+"May I--er--look round a bit?" Antony nodded towards the open door.
+
+"Oh, do. Yes." He sat down and drew the telephone towards him. "You must
+make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham. You see, I've known Mark for a
+very long time. But, of course, you're quite right, and I'm merely being
+stupid." He took off the receiver.
+
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance with
+this "office," we are coming into it from the hall, through the door
+which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience, has been
+magically unlocked for us. As we stand just inside the door, the length
+of the room runs right and left; or, more accurately, to the right only,
+for the left-hand wall is almost within our reach. Immediately opposite
+to us, across the breadth of the room (some fifteen feet), is that other
+door, by which Cayley went out and returned a few minutes ago. In the
+right-hand wall, thirty feet away from us, are the French windows.
+Crossing the room and going out by the opposite door, we come into a
+passage, from which two rooms lead. The one on the right, into which
+Cayley went, is less than half the length of the office, a small, square
+room, which has evidently been used some time or other as a bedroom. The
+bed is no longer there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold taps, in
+a corner; chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers. The window
+faces the same way as the French windows in the next room; but anybody
+looking out of the bedroom window has his view on the immediate right
+shut off by the outer wall of the office, which projects, by reason of
+its greater length, fifteen feet further into the lawn.
+
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom. The three rooms
+together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used, perhaps, during
+the occupation of the previous owner, by some invalid, who could not
+manage the stairs, but allowed by Mark to fall into disuse, save for the
+living-room. At any rate, he never slept downstairs.
+
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom, the
+room into which Cayley had been. The window was open, and he looked out
+at the well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful stretch of park
+beyond; and he felt very sorry for the owner of it all, who was now
+mixed up in so grim a business.
+
+"Cayley thinks he did it," said Antony to himself. "That's obvious. It
+explains why he wasted so much time banging on the door. Why should
+he try to break a lock when it's so much easier to break a window?
+Of course he might just have lost his head; on the other hand, he
+might--well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a chance of getting
+away. The same about the police, and--oh, lots of things. Why, for
+instance, did we run all the way round the house in order to get to the
+windows? Surely there's a back way out through the hall. I must have a
+look later on."
+
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost his head.
+
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to see
+Cayley in the doorway. He remained looking at him for a moment, asking
+himself a question. It was rather a curious question. He was asking
+himself why the door was open.
+
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained easily
+enough. But why had he expected the door to be shut? He did not remember
+shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see it open now, to see
+Cayley through the doorway, just coming into the room. Something working
+sub-consciously in his brain had told him that it was surprising. Why?
+
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment; the
+answer would come to him later on. He had a wonderfully retentive
+mind. Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make its corresponding
+impression somewhere in his brain; often without his being conscious of
+it; and these photographic impressions were always there ready for him
+when he wished to develop them.
+
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+
+"I've telephoned," he said. "They're sending an inspector or some one
+from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from Stanton." He
+shrugged his shoulders. "We're in for it now."
+
+"How far away is Middleston?" It was the town for which Antony had taken
+a ticket that morning--only six hours ago. How absurd it seemed.
+
+"About twenty miles. These people will be coming back soon."
+
+"Beverley, and the others?"
+
+"Yes. I expect they'll want to go away at once."
+
+"Much better that they should."
+
+"Yes." Cayley was silent for a little. Then he said, "You're staying
+near here?"
+
+"I'm at 'The George,' at Waldheim."
+
+"If you're by yourself, I wish you'd put up here. You see," he went on
+awkwardly, "you'll have to be here--for the--the inquest and--and so
+on. If I may offer you my cousin's hospitality in his--I mean if he
+doesn't--if he really has--"
+
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+
+"That's good. Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he's a friend of yours.
+He's a good fellow."
+
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated to
+say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive. It didn't
+follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer. Revolvers go off accidentally;
+and when they have gone off, people lose their heads and run away,
+fearing that their story will not be believed. Nevertheless, when people
+run away, whether innocently or guiltily, one can't help wondering which
+way they went.
+
+"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+
+"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.
+
+"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself. "The murderer.
+Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert Ablett was
+killed."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, how else could he have got away? He didn't go by the windows in
+the next room, because they were shut."
+
+"Isn't that rather odd?"
+
+"Well, I thought so at first, but--" He pointed to the wall jutting out
+on the right. "You see, you're protected from the rest of the house if
+you get out here, and you're quite close to the shrubbery. If you go out
+at the French windows, I imagine you're much more visible. All that part
+of the house--" he waved his right hand--"the west, well, north-west
+almost, where the kitchen parts are--you see, you're hidden from them
+here. Oh, yes! he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right
+to come out of this window. He'd be into the shrubbery at once."
+
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty well,
+considering that this is the first time you've been to it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, I notice things, you know. I was born noticing. But I'm
+right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"
+
+"Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away--towards the shrubbery. "Do
+you want to go noticing in there now?" He nodded at it.
+
+"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
+"It's--well, there's no hurry."
+
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for the
+answer, and could now breathe again.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. The Brother from Australia
+
+
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason--the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark. But
+when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they wanted
+to do, the plan had to be kept. Mrs. Calladine, who knew this little
+weakness of their host's, resisted, therefore, the suggestion of Bill
+that they should have a second round in the afternoon, and drive home
+comfortably after tea. The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs.
+Calladine, without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn't like it, was
+firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they should
+be back by four.
+
+"I really don't think Mark wants us, you know," said the Major. Having
+played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself in the
+afternoon that he was really better than that. "With this brother of his
+coming, he'll be only too glad to have us out of the way."
+
+"Of course he will, Major." This from Bill. "You'd like to play,
+wouldn't you, Miss Norris?"
+
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+
+"Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn't keep you here.
+Besides, it's so dull for you, not playing."
+
+"Just nine holes, mother," pleaded Betty.
+
+"The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were
+having another round, and then it could come back for us," said Bill
+brilliantly.
+
+"It's certainly much cooler here than I expected," put in the Major.
+
+Mrs. Calladine fell. It was very pleasantly cool outside the golf-house,
+and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them out of the way. So
+she consented to nine holes; and the match having ended all-square, and
+everybody having played much better than in the morning, they drove back
+to the Red House, very well pleased with themselves.
+
+"Halo," said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, "isn't that
+old Tony?"
+
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them. Bill waved,
+and he waved back. Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was in front with
+the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+
+"Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?" He had a sudden
+idea. "Don't say you're Mark Ablett's long-lost brother from Australia,
+though I could quite believe it of you." He laughed boyishly.
+
+"Hallo, Bill," said Antony quietly. "Will you introduce me? I'm afraid
+I've got some bad news."
+
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him. The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to them in
+a low voice.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said. "Robert
+Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed." He jerked a thumb
+over his shoulder. "In the house."
+
+"Good God!" said the Major.
+
+"Do you mean that he has killed himself?" asked Mrs. Calladine. "Just
+now?"
+
+"It was about two hours ago. I happened to come here,"--he half-turned
+to Beverley and explained--"I was coming to see you, Bill, and I arrived
+just after the--the death. Mr. Cayley and I found the body. Mr. Cayley
+being busy just now--there are police and doctors and so on in the
+house--he asked me to tell you. He says that no doubt you would prefer,
+the house-party having been broken up in this tragic way, to leave as
+soon as possible." He gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went
+on, "I am putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you
+must consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make
+your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish
+to catch. There is one this evening, I understand, which you could go by
+if you wished it."
+
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony. He had no words in his vocabulary
+to express what he wanted to say, other than those the Major had
+already used. Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris and saying, "Who's
+killed?" in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris, who was instinctively
+looking as tragic as she looked on the stage when a messenger announced
+the death of one of the cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain.
+Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress of herself.
+
+"We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand," she said; "but we
+can't just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because something
+terrible has happened there. I must see Mark, and we can arrange later
+what to do. He must know how very deeply we feel for him. Perhaps we--"
+she hesitated.
+
+"The Major and I might be useful anyway," said Bill. "Isn't that what
+you mean, Mrs. Calladine?"
+
+"Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+
+Antony looked back unwaveringly--and said nothing.
+
+"I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine, "that
+it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night."
+
+"Very well," she agreed quietly. "You will come with us, Ruth?"
+
+"I'll see you safely there," said Bill in a meek voice. He didn't quite
+know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the Red House
+for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but London seemed
+to be the place that everyone was going to, and when he could get Tony
+alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+
+"Cayley wants you to stay, Bill. You have to go anyhow, to-morrow, Major
+Rumbold?"
+
+"Yes. I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine."
+
+"Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not hesitate
+to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as regard any
+telephoning or telegraphing that you want done." He smiled again and
+added, "Please forgive me if I seem to have taken a good deal upon
+myself, but I just happened to be handy as a mouthpiece for Cayley." He
+bowed to them and went into the house.
+
+"Well!" said Miss Norris dramatically.
+
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was just
+crossing into the library with Cayley. The latter stopped and nodded to
+Antony.
+
+"Wait a moment, Inspector. Here's Mr. Gillingham. He'd better come with
+us." And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch."
+
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+
+"Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley.
+
+"Oh! Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit. I like
+to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+"We all do."
+
+"Oh!" He looked at Antony with interest. "D'you know where you are in
+this case?"
+
+"I know where I'm going to be."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Put through it by Inspector Birch," said Antony with a smile.
+
+The inspector laughed genially.
+
+"Well, I'll spare you as much as I can. Come along."
+
+They went into the library. The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it. Antony made
+himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be interested.
+
+"We'll start with the dead man," said the Inspector. "Robert Ablett,
+didn't you say?" He took out his notebook.
+
+"Yes. Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here."
+
+"Ah!" He began to sharpen a pencil. "Staying in the house?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew
+about Robert. This was news to him. "I see. Sent out of the country in
+disgrace. What had he done?"
+
+"I hardly know. I was only about twelve at the time. The sort of age
+when you're told not to ask questions."
+
+"Inconvenient questions?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So you don't really know whether he had been merely wild or--or
+wicked?"
+
+"No. Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman," added Cayley. "Perhaps what might
+seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of the world."
+
+"I daresay, Mr. Cayley," smiled the Inspector. "Anyhow, it was more
+convenient to have him in Australia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mark Ablett never talked about him?"
+
+"Hardly ever. He was very much ashamed of him, and--well, very glad he
+was in Australia."
+
+"Did he write Mark sometimes?"
+
+"Occasionally. Perhaps three or four times in the last five years."
+
+"Asking for money?"
+
+"Something of the sort. I don't think Mark always answered them. As far
+as I know, he never sent any money."
+
+"Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley. Do you think that Mark was
+unfair to his brother? Unduly hard on him?"
+
+"They'd never liked each other as boys. There was never any affection
+between them. I don't know whose fault it was in the first place--if
+anybody's."
+
+"Still, Mark might have given him a hand?"
+
+"I understand," said Cayley, "that Robert spent his whole life asking
+for hands."
+
+The inspector nodded.
+
+"I know that sort. Well, now, we'll go on to this morning. This letter
+that Mark got--did you see it?"
+
+"Not at the time. He showed it to me afterwards."
+
+"Any address?"
+
+"No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"I don't know. In Mark's pocket, I expect."
+
+"Ah!" He pulled at his beard. "Well, we'll come to that. Can you
+remember what it said?"
+
+"As far as I remember, something like this: 'Mark, your loving brother
+is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you
+warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I
+hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.'"
+
+"Ah!" The inspector copied it down carefully. "Did you notice the
+postmark?"
+
+"London."
+
+"And what was Mark's attitude?"
+
+"Annoyance, disgust--" Cayley hesitated.
+
+"Apprehension?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly. Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant interview,
+not of any unpleasant outcome for himself."
+
+"You mean that he wasn't afraid of violence, or blackmail, or anything
+of that sort?"
+
+"He didn't appear to be."
+
+"Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o'clock?"
+
+"Yes, about that."
+
+"Who was in the house then?"
+
+"Mark and myself, and some of the servants. I don't know which. Of
+course, you will ask them directly, no doubt."
+
+"With your permission. No guests?"
+
+"They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley. "Oh, by the
+way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to see
+them at all? It isn't very pleasant for them now, naturally, and I
+suggested--" he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him. "I understand
+that they want to go back to London this evening. There's no objection
+to that, I suppose?"
+
+"You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?"
+
+"Of course. One of them is staying on, if you would like to see him
+later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Cayley. Well, now then, let's go back to three
+o'clock. Where were you when Robert arrived?"
+
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey had
+asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he had last
+seen him going up to the Temple.
+
+"She went away, and I went on with my book. There was a step on the
+stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down. He went into the
+office, and I went on with my book again. I went into the library for
+a moment, to refer to another book, and when I was in there I heard a
+shot. At least, it was a loud bang, I wasn't sure if it was a shot. I
+stood and listened. Then I came slowly to the door and looked out. Then
+I went back again, hesitated a bit, you know, and finally decided to go
+across to the office, and make sure that it was all right. I turned the
+handle of the door and found it was locked. Then I got frightened, and I
+banged at the door, and shouted, and--well, that was when Mr. Gillingham
+arrived." He went on to explain how they had found the body.
+
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley. Mr.
+Mark, now. You thought he was in the Temple. Could he have come in, and
+gone up to his room, without your seeing him?"
+
+"There are back stairs. He wouldn't have used them in the ordinary way,
+of course. But I wasn't in the hall all the afternoon. He might easily
+have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about it."
+
+"So that you weren't surprised when you saw him coming down?"
+
+"Oh, not a bit."
+
+"Well, did he say anything?"
+
+"He said, 'Robert's here?' or something of the sort. I suppose he'd
+heard the bell, or the voices in the hall."
+
+"Which way does his bedroom face? Could he have seen him coming down the
+drive?"
+
+"He might have, yes."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, then, I said 'Yes,' and he gave a sort of shrug, and said, 'Don't
+go too far away, I might want you'; and then went in."
+
+"What did you think he meant by that?"
+
+"Well, he consults me a good deal, you know. I'm his sort of unofficial
+solicitor in a kind of way."
+
+"This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?"
+
+"Oh, yes. That's how he regarded it, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes. How long was it before you heard the shot?"
+
+"Very soon. Two minutes, perhaps."
+
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully. Suddenly he said:
+
+"What is your theory of Robert's death?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You've probably seen more than I've seen," he answered. "It's your job.
+I can only speak as a layman--and Mark's friend."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing
+a revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get
+it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark
+lost his head, finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and
+a dead man at his feet. His one idea was to escape. He locked the door
+almost instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went
+out of the window."
+
+"Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?"
+
+"I should hardly call it 'reasonable' to lose your head," said Antony,
+getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+
+"Well, you know what I mean. It explains things."
+
+"Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more complicated."
+
+"Have you any other explanation?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?--anything that he left out after you arrived here?"
+
+"No, thanks. He described it all very accurately."
+
+"Ah! Well now, about yourself. You're not staying in the house, I
+gather?"
+
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+
+"Yes. Did you hear the shot?"
+
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. "Yes. Just as I came
+in sight of the house. It didn't make any impression at the time, but I
+remember it now."
+
+"Where were you then?"
+
+"Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house."
+
+"Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?"
+
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+
+"Nobody," he said. "No."
+
+"You're certain of that?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could be
+suspected of a mistake.
+
+"Thank you. You're at 'The George,' if I want you?"
+
+"Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest," explained
+Cayley.
+
+"Good. Well now, about these servants?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+
+
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+
+"Well, you won't want me, I suppose, inspector," he said.
+
+"No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You'll be about, of course?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+The inspector hesitated.
+
+"I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone.
+You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get
+alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself."
+
+"Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel
+rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr. Gillingham
+very kindly--" He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the door, and
+left his sentence unfinished.
+
+"Ah, that reminds me," said the Inspector. "Didn't you say that one of
+your guests--Mr. Beverley was it?--a friend of Mr. Gillingham's, was
+staying on?"
+
+"Yes; would you like to see him?"
+
+"Afterwards, if I may."
+
+"I'll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a room
+upstairs where I work--any of the servants will show you. Ah, Stevens,
+Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering. The
+housekeeper's room had heard something of the news by this time, and
+Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff
+exactly what he had said, and what she had said. The details were not
+quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that Mr.
+Mark's brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and that
+Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she opened
+the door to him. She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens. And Mrs.
+Stevens--if you remember, Audrey--had always said that people didn't go
+away to Australia except for very good reasons. Elsie agreed with both
+of them, but she had a contribution of her own to make. She had actually
+heard Mr. Mark in the office, threatening his brother.
+
+"You mean Mr. Robert," said the second parlour-maid. She had been having
+a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang. In fact, it had
+woken her up--just like something going off, it was.
+
+"It was Mr. Mark's voice," said Elsie firmly.
+
+"Pleading for mercy," said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully from the
+door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she had not
+given her presence away. But it was hard to listen in silence when she
+knew so well from her novelettes just what happened on these occasions.
+
+"I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind," said Mrs. Stevens.
+"Well, Elsie?"
+
+"He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, 'It's my turn now,' he
+said, triumphant-like."
+
+"Well, if you think that's a threat, dear, you're very particular, I
+must say."
+
+But Audrey remembered Elsie's words when she was in front of Inspector
+Birch. She gave her own evidence with the readiness of one who had
+already repeated it several times, and was examined and cross-examined
+by the Inspector with considerable skill. The temptation to say, "Never
+mind about what you said to him," was strong, but he resisted it,
+knowing that in this way he would discover best what he said to her. By
+this time both his words and the looks he gave her were getting their
+full value from Audrey, but the general meaning of them seemed to be
+well-established.
+
+"Then you didn't see Mr. Mark at all."
+
+"No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room. Or come
+in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by the back."
+
+"Yes. Well, I think that's all that I want to know, thank you very much.
+Now what about the other servants?"
+
+"Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together," said Audrey
+eagerly. "He was saying--Mr. Mark, I mean--"
+
+"Ah! Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself. Who is Elsie,
+by the way?"
+
+"One of the housemaids. Shall I send her to you, sir?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message. It interrupted a few remarks
+from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie's conduct that afternoon which were (Elsie
+thought) much better interrupted. In Mrs. Stevens' opinion any crime
+committed that afternoon in the office was as nothing to the double
+crime committed by the unhappy Elsie.
+
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have said
+nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon. She was bad at
+concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering it. Elsie
+knew perfectly well that she had no business to come down the front
+stairs, and it was no excuse to say that she happened to come out of
+Miss Norris' room just at the head of the stairs, and didn't think it
+would matter, as there was nobody in the hall, and what was she doing
+anyhow in Miss Norris' room at that time? Returning a magazine? Lent by
+Miss Norris, might she ask? Well, not exactly lent. Really, Elsie!--and
+this in a respectable house! In vain for poor Elsie to plead that
+a story by her favourite author was advertised on the cover, with a
+picture of the villain falling over the cliff. "That's where you'll go
+to, my girl, if you aren't careful," said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch. All that interested him was that she was passing
+through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+
+"And stopped to listen?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody really
+understood her. "I was just passing through the hall, just as you might
+have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets, didn't
+think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done." And she
+sniffed slightly.
+
+"Come, come," said the Inspector soothingly, "I didn't mean to
+suggest--"
+
+"Everyone is very unkind to me," said Elsie between sniffs, "and there's
+that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they'd have been, if it had
+been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this day."
+
+"Nonsense, we're going to be very proud of you. I shouldn't be surprised
+if your evidence were of very great importance. Now then, what was it
+you heard? Try to remember the exact words."
+
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+
+"Yes, but who said it?"
+
+"Mr. Robert."
+
+"How do you know it was Mr. Robert? Had you heard his voice before?"
+
+"I don't take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance with
+Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn't Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr. Cayley, nor
+any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown Mr. Robert into
+the office not five minutes before--"
+
+"Quite so," said the Inspector hurriedly. "Mr. Robert, undoubtedly.
+Working in a passage?"
+
+"That was what it sounded like, sir."
+
+"H'm. Working a passage over--could that have been it?"
+
+"That's right, sir," said Elsie eagerly. "He'd worked his passage over."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then Mr. Mark said loudly--sort of triumphant-like--'It's my turn
+now. You wait.'"
+
+"Triumphantly?"
+
+"As much as to say his chance had come."
+
+"And that's all you heard?"
+
+"That's all, sir--not standing there listening, but just passing through
+the hall, as it might be any time."
+
+"Yes. Well, that's really very important, Elsie. Thank you."
+
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen. She was
+ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own. There was a
+point which was puzzling him. He went through the hall to the front of
+the house and stood at the open door, looking out on to the drive. He
+and Cayley had run round the house to the left. Surely it would have
+been quicker to have run round to the right? The front door was not in
+the middle of the house, it was to the end. Undoubtedly they went the
+longest way round. But perhaps there was something in the way, if one
+went to the right--a wall, say. He strolled off in that direction,
+followed a path round the house and came in sight of the office windows.
+Quite simple, and about half the distance of the other way. He went on
+a little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in windows.
+It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage. At the end of the
+passage was another door. He opened it and found himself in the hall
+again.
+
+"And, of course, that's the quickest way of the three," he said to
+himself. "Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left and
+there you are. Instead of which, we ran the longest way round the house.
+Why? Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape? Only, in that
+case--why run? Also, how did Cayley know then that it was Mark who
+was trying to escape? If he had guessed--well, not guessed, but been
+afraid--that one had shot the other, it was much more likely that Robert
+had shot Mark. Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought.
+The first thing he had said when he turned the body over was, 'Thank
+God! I was afraid it was Mark.' But why should he want to give Robert
+time in which to get away? And again--why run, if he did want to give
+him time?"
+
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and sat
+down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+
+"Now then," he said, "let's go through Cayley's mind carefully, and see
+what we get."
+
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office. The
+servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his book.
+Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case he is
+wanted, and goes to meet his brother. What does Cayley expect? Possibly
+that he won't be wanted at all; possibly that his advice may be wanted
+in the matter, say, of paying Robert's debts, or getting him a passage
+back to Australia; possibly that his physical assistance may be wanted
+to get an obstreperous Robert out of the house. Well, he sits there for
+a moment, and then goes into the library. Why not? He is still within
+reach, if wanted. Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot. A pistol-shot is the
+last noise you expect to hear in a country-house; very natural, then,
+that for the moment he would hardly realize what it was. He listens--and
+hears nothing more. Perhaps it wasn't a pistol-shot after all. After a
+moment or two he goes to the library door again. The profound silence
+makes him uneasy now. Was it a pistol-shot? Absurd! Still--no harm in
+going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure himself. So he
+tries the door--and finds it locked!
+
+What are his emotions now? Alarm, uncertainty. Something is happening.
+Incredible though it seems, it must have been a pistol-shot. He is
+banging at the door and calling out to Mark, and there is no answer.
+Alarm--yes. But alarm for whose safety? Mark's, obviously. Robert is a
+stranger; Mark is an intimate friend. Robert has written a letter that
+morning, the letter of a man in a dangerous temper. Robert is the tough
+customer; Mark the highly civilized gentleman. If there has been a
+quarrel, it is Robert who has shot Mark. He bangs at the door again.
+
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley's conduct
+had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment, Cayley had lost
+his head. Anybody else might have done the same. But, as soon as Antony
+suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw that that was the obvious thing
+to do. So he leads the way to the windows--the longest way.
+
+Why? To give the murderer time to escape? If he had thought then that
+Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes. But he thinks that Robert is the
+murderer. If he is not hiding anything, he must think so. Indeed he says
+so, when he sees the body; "I was afraid it was Mark," he says, when he
+finds that it is Robert who is killed. No reason, then, for wishing to
+gain time. On the contrary, every instinct would urge him to get into
+the room as quickly as possible, and seize the wicked Robert. Yet he
+goes the longest way round. Why? And then, why run?
+
+"That's the question," said Antony to himself, as he filled his pipe,
+"and bless me if I know the answer. It may be, of course, that Cayley is
+just a coward. He was in no hurry to get close to Robert's revolver, and
+yet wanted me to think that he was bursting with eagerness. That would
+explain it, but then that makes Cayley out a coward. Is he? At any rate
+he pushed his face up against the window bravely enough. No, I want a
+better answer than that."
+
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking. There were one
+or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be taken out
+and looked at. For the moment he left them undisturbed. They would come
+back to him later when he wanted them.
+
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+
+"I was wanting a new profession," he thought, "and now I've found it.
+Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound. I shall begin to-day."
+
+Whatever Antony Gillingham's other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and quickly.
+And this clear brain of his had already told him that he was the only
+person in the house at that moment who was unhandicapped in the search
+for truth. The inspector had arrived in it to find a man dead and a man
+missing. It was extremely probable, no doubt, that the missing man
+had shot the dead man. But it was more than extremely probable, it was
+almost certain that the Inspector would start with the idea that this
+extremely probable solution was the one true solution, and that, in
+consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without prejudice any
+other solution. As regards all the rest of them--Cayley, the guests,
+the servants--they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark (or possibly,
+for all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against, each other;
+they had formed some previous opinion, from what had been said that
+morning, of the sort of man Robert was. No one of them could consider
+the matter with an unbiased mind.
+
+But Antony could. He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about
+Robert. He had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead man
+was. He knew that a tragedy had happened before he knew that anybody was
+missing. Those first impressions, which are so vitally important, had
+been received solely on the merits of the case; they were founded on the
+evidence of his senses, not on the evidence of his emotions or of other
+people's senses. He was in a much better position for getting at the
+truth than was the Inspector.
+
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector Birch
+a slight injustice. Birch was certainly prepared to believe that Mark
+had shot his brother. Robert had been shown into the office (witness
+Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert (witness Cayley); Mark and Robert
+had been heard talking (witness Elsie); there was a shot (witness
+everybody); the room had been entered and Robert's body had been found
+(witness Cayley and Gillingham). And Mark was missing. Obviously,
+then, Mark had killed his brother: accidentally, as Cayley believed, or
+deliberately, as Elsie's evidence seemed to suggest. There was no point
+in looking for a difficult solution to a problem, when the easy solution
+had no flaw in it. But at the same time Birch would have preferred the
+difficult solution, simply because there was more credit attached to
+it. A "sensational" arrest of somebody in the house would have given him
+more pleasure than a commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett across
+country. Mark must be found, guilty or not guilty. But there were other
+possibilities. It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the
+time when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector,
+the Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon
+the possibilities in connection with Mr. Gillingham. Was it only a
+coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did? And Mr.
+Beverley's curious answers when asked for some account of his friend.
+An assistant in a tobacconist's, a waiter! An odd man, Mr. Gillingham,
+evidently. It might be as well to keep an eye on him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. Outside Or Inside?
+
+
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different
+manner. The Major, gruff and simple: "If you want me, command me.
+Anything I can do--Good-bye"; Betty, silently sympathetic, with
+everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell;
+Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know what to say, but
+apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into one
+despairing gesture that Cayley's unvarying "Thank you very much" might
+have been taken this time as gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with a
+special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to join
+Antony on his garden seat.
+
+"Well, this is a rum show," said Bill as he sat down.
+
+"Very rum, William."
+
+"And you actually walked right into it?"
+
+"Right into it," said Antony.
+
+"Then you're the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn't keep to the
+point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but
+kept asking me questions about where I'd met you first, and all sorts of
+dull things like that. Now, what really happened?"
+
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told
+the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate
+"Good Lords" and whistles.
+
+"I say, it's a bit of a business, isn't it? Where do I come in,
+exactly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through it
+by that inspector as if I knew all about it--what's the idea?"
+
+Antony smiled at him.
+
+"Well, there's nothing to worry about, you know. Naturally Birch wanted
+to see one of you so as to know what you'd all been doing all day. And
+Cayley was nice enough to think that you'd be company for me, as I knew
+you already. And well, that's all."
+
+"You're staying here, in the house?" said Bill eagerly. "Good man.
+That's splendid."
+
+"It reconciles you to the departure of some of the others?"
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway," he murmured.
+
+"I congratulate you. I liked her looks. And that grey dress. A nice
+comfortable sort of woman."
+
+"You fool, that's her mother."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she does
+just now. So try and put up with me."
+
+"I say, do you really?" said Bill, rather flattered. He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+
+"Yes. You see, things are going to happen here soon."
+
+"Inquests and that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, perhaps something before that. Hallo, here comes Cayley."
+
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big, heavy-shouldered
+man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly faces which can never
+quite be called plain. "Bad luck on Cayley," said Bill. "I say, ought
+I to tell him how sorry I am and all that sort of thing? It seems so
+dashed inadequate."
+
+"I shouldn't bother," said Antony.
+
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+
+"We can make room for you," said Bill, getting up.
+
+"Oh, don't bother, thanks. I just came to say," he went on to Antony,
+"that naturally they've rather lost their heads in the kitchen,
+and dinner won't be till half-past eight. Do just as you like about
+dressing, of course. And what about your luggage?"
+
+"I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see about
+it."
+
+"The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the station."
+
+"It's very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow, to
+pack up and pay my bill. Besides, it's a good evening for a walk. If you
+wouldn't mind it, Bill?"
+
+"I should love it."
+
+"Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I'll send the car round for it
+later."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay. Antony wondered
+whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon's happenings, or whether
+it was the one subject he wished to avoid. To break the silence he asked
+carelessly if the Inspector had gone.
+
+Cayley nodded. Then he said abruptly, "He's getting a warrant for Mark's
+arrest."
+
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug
+of the shoulders, "Well, he was bound to do that, wasn't he? It doesn't
+follow that--well, it doesn't mean anything. They naturally want to get
+hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty."
+
+"Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?" said Cayley, looking at him
+steadily.
+
+"Mark? It's absurd," said Bill impetuously.
+
+"Bill's loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley."
+
+"And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?"
+
+"Exactly. So perhaps I might be too frank."
+
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the
+seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on his
+hands, gazing at the ground.
+
+"I want you to be quite frank," he said at last. "Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned. So I want to know how my suggestion
+strikes you who have no prejudices either way."
+
+"Your suggestion?"
+
+"My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely accidental as
+I told the Inspector."
+
+Bill looked up with interest.
+
+"You mean that Robert did the hold-up business," he said, "and there was
+a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then Mark lost his
+head and bolted? That sort of idea?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that seems all right." He turned to Antony. "There's nothing
+wrong with that, is there? It's the most natural explanation to anyone
+who knows Mark."
+
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+
+"I suppose it is," he said slowly. "But there's one thing that worries
+me rather."
+
+"What's that?" Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+
+"The key."
+
+"The key?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony. "What about the key?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered. Suppose Robert was
+killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought of nothing
+but getting away before anyone could see him. Well, very likely
+he'd lock the door and put the key in his pocket. He'd do it without
+thinking, just to gain a moment's time."
+
+"Yes, that's what I suggest."
+
+"It seems sound enough," said Bill. "Sort of thing you'd do without
+thinking. Besides, if you are going to run away, it gives you more of a
+chance."
+
+"Yes, that's all right if the key is there. But suppose it isn't there?"
+
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact, startled
+them both. They looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Cayley.
+
+"Well, it's just a question of where people happen to keep their keys.
+You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your door in
+case anybody comes wandering in when you've only got one sock and a pair
+of braces on. Well, that's natural enough. And if you look round the
+bedrooms of almost any house, you'll find the keys all ready, so that
+you can lock yourself in at a moment's notice. But downstairs people
+don't lock themselves in. It's really never done at all. Bill, for
+instance, has never locked himself into the dining-room in order to be
+alone with the sherry. On the other hand, all women, and particularly
+servants, have a horror of burglars. And if a burglar gets in by the
+window, they like to limit his activities to that particular room. So
+they keep the, keys on the outside of the doors, and lock the doors when
+they go to bed." He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and added, "At
+least, my mother always used to."
+
+"You mean," said Bill excitedly, "that the key was on the outside of the
+door when Mark went into the room?"
+
+"Well, I was just wondering."
+
+"Have you noticed the other rooms the billiard-room, and library, and so
+on?" said Cayley.
+
+"I've only just thought about it while I've been sitting out here. You
+live here haven't you ever noticed them?"
+
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+
+"It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can't say that I have." He
+turned to Bill. "Have you?"
+
+"Good Lord, no. I should never worry about a thing like that."
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," laughed Antony. "Well, we can have a look when
+we go in. If the other keys are outside, then this one was probably
+outside too, and in that case well, it makes it more interesting."
+
+Cayley said nothing. Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said, "Does
+it make much difference?"
+
+"It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there. Take your
+accidental theory and see where you get to. No instinctive turning of
+the key now, is there? He's got to open the door to get it, and opening
+the door means showing his head to anybody in the hall--his cousin, for
+instance, whom he left there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark's state
+of mind, frightened to death lest he should be found with the body,
+going to do anything so foolhardy as that?"
+
+"He needn't have been afraid of me," said Cayley.
+
+"Then why didn't he call for you? He knew you were about. You could
+have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice. But the whole theory
+of Mark's escape is that he was afraid of you and of everybody else,
+and that he had no other idea but to get out of the room himself, and
+prevent you or the servants from coming into it. If the key had been on
+the inside, he would probably have locked the door. If it were on the
+outside, he almost certainly wouldn't."
+
+"Yes, I expect you're right," said Bill thoughtfully. "Unless he took
+the key in with him, and locked the door at once."
+
+"Exactly. But in that case you have to build up a new theory entirely."
+
+"You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?"
+
+"Yes; that, certainly. But it also seems to make Mark out an absolute
+idiot. Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons which neither
+of you know anything about, he had wished to get rid of his brother.
+Would he have done it like that? Just killed him and then run away? Why,
+that's practically suicide--suicide whilst of unsound mind. No. If you
+really wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a little
+bit more cleverly than that. You'd begin by treating him as a friend, so
+as to avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at last, you would try
+to make it look like an accident, or suicide, or the work of some other
+man. Wouldn't you?"
+
+"You mean you'd give yourself a bit of a run for your money?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean. If you were going to do it deliberately, that
+is to say and lock yourself in before you began."
+
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea. With his
+eyes still on the ground, he said now: "I hold to my opinion that it was
+purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head and ran away."
+
+"But what about the key?" asked Bill.
+
+"We don't know yet that the keys were outside. I don't at all agree with
+Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms are always outside
+the doors. Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I think we shall probably
+find that these are inside."
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory
+is probably the correct one. Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered that's all. You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and tell
+you what I thought. But no doubt you're right, and we shall find them
+inside, as you say.
+
+"Even if the key was outside," went on Cayley stubbornly, "I still
+think it might have been accidental. He might have taken it in with him,
+knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and not wishing
+to be interrupted."
+
+"But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out? Besides, I should think that if a man were going
+to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation, the last
+thing he would do would be to barricade himself in with him. He would
+want to open all the doors and say, 'Get out of it'"
+
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate. Antony gave a little
+apologetic laugh and stood up.
+
+"Well, come on, Bill," he said; "we ought to be stepping." He held out a
+hand and pulled his friend up. Then, turning to Cayley, he went on, "You
+must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on rather. Of course, I
+was considering the matter purely as an outsider; just as a problem, I
+mean, which didn't concern the happiness of any of my friends."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Gillingham," said Cayley, standing up too. "It
+is for you to make allowances for me. I'm sure you will. You say that
+you're going up to the inn now about your bag?"
+
+"Yes." He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland stretching
+about the house. "Let me see; it's over in that direction, isn't it?" He
+pointed southwards. "Can we get to the village that way, or must we go
+by the road?"
+
+"I'll show you, my boy," said Bill.
+
+"Bill will show you. The park reaches almost as far as the village. Then
+I'll send the car round in about half an hour."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house. Antony took hold of
+Bill's arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. Portrait of a Gentleman
+
+
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house and
+gardens well behind them. In front of them and to the right the park
+dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the world. A thick
+belt of trees on the left divided them from the main road.
+
+"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
+
+"Oh, rather. Dozens of times."
+
+"I meant just here where we are now. Or do you stay indoors and play
+billiards all the time?"
+
+"Oh Lord, no!"
+
+"Well, tennis and things. So many people with beautiful parks never by
+any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the dusty
+road think how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine them doing
+all sorts of jolly things inside." He pointed to the right. "Ever been
+over there?"
+
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+
+"Well, not very much. I've often been along here, of course, because
+it's the short way to the village."
+
+"Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
+
+"What sort of things?"
+
+"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that. Cut out the Manners for Men,
+and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying with him,
+and how many rows your little house-party has had this week, and how you
+get on with Cayley, and all the rest of it."
+
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+
+"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
+
+"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
+
+"What fun! I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one oughtn't
+to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and one's host--"
+He broke off a little uncertainly, and then rounded off his period by
+saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show it is. Good Lord!"
+
+"Well?" said Antony. "Carry on, Mark"
+
+"What do I think of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had
+never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind. What did he
+think of Mark? Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+
+"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken down
+by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split infinitive or two.
+Talk about anything you like, how you like. Well, I'll give you a start.
+Which do you enjoy more a week-end here or at the Barrington's, say?"
+
+"Well; of course, that would depend--"
+
+"Take it that she was there in both cases."
+
+"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs. "It's a little
+difficult to say," he went on. "Of course they do you awfully well
+here."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't think I know any house where things are so comfortable. One's
+room--the food--drinks--cigars--the way everything's arranged: All that
+sort of thing. They look after you awfully well."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes." He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a new
+idea: "They look after you awfully well. Well, that's just what it is
+about Mark. That's one of his little ways. Weaknesses. Looking after
+you."
+
+"Arranging things for you?"
+
+"Yes. Of course, it's a delightful house, and there's plenty to do, and
+opportunities for every game or sport that's ever been invented, and,
+as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony, there's
+a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is on parade, as it were.
+You've got to do as you're told."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things. He arranges
+things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with the
+arrangement. For instance, Betty--Miss Calladine--and I were going to
+play a single just before tea, the other day. Tennis. She's frightfully
+hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take me on level. I'm rather
+erratic, you know. Mark saw us going out with our rackets and asked us
+what we were going to do. Well, he'd got up a little tournament for
+us after tea--handicaps all arranged by him, and everything ruled out
+neatly in red and black ink--prizes and all--quite decent ones, you
+know. He'd had the lawn specially cut and marked for it. Well, of course
+Betty and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
+ready to play again after tea--I had to give her half-fifteen according
+to his handicap--but somehow--" Bill stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It didn't quite fit in?"
+
+"No. It spoilt the effect of his tournament. Took the edge off it just
+a little, I suppose he felt. So we didn't play." He laughed, and added,
+"It would have been as much as our place was worth to have played."
+
+"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
+
+"Probably. Well, I don't know. Not for some time, anyway."
+
+"Really, Bill?"
+
+"Oh, rather! He's a devil for taking offence. That Miss Norris, did you
+see her? She's done for herself. I don't mind betting what you like that
+she never comes here again."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Bill laughed to himself.
+
+"We were all in it, really--at least, Betty and I were. There's supposed
+to be a ghost attached to the house. Lady Anne Patten. Ever heard of
+her?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Mark told us about her at dinner one night. He rather liked the idea
+of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he doesn't
+believe in ghosts. I think he wanted all of us to believe in her, and
+yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for believing in ghosts
+at all. Rum chap. Well, anyhow, Miss Norris--she's an actress, some
+actress too--dressed up as the ghost and played the fool a bit. And poor
+Mark was frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know."
+
+"What about the others?"
+
+"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her--Miss Norris I mean--not
+to be a silly ass. Knowing Mark. Mrs. Calladine wasn't there--Betty
+wouldn't let her be. As for the Major, I don't believe anything would
+frighten him."
+
+"Where did the ghost appear?"
+
+"Down by the bowling-green. That's supposed to be its haunt, you know.
+We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait for it. Do
+you know the bowling-green?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll show it to you after dinner."
+
+"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes. Sulked for a whole day. Well, he's just like that."
+
+"Was he angry with all of you?"
+
+"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
+
+"This morning?"
+
+"Oh, no. He got over it he generally does. He's just like a child.
+That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways. As a matter of
+fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning. And yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Rather. We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
+
+"Is he generally in form?"
+
+"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
+He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
+self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and--" Bill broke off
+suddenly. "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about your
+host like this."
+
+"Don't think of him as your host. Think of him as a suspected murderer
+with a warrant out against him."
+
+"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
+
+"It's the fact, Bill."
+
+"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it. He wouldn't murder anybody. It's a
+funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it. He's got his
+faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
+
+"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
+
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark. "All the same," he
+said, "I can't believe it. That he would do it deliberately, I mean."
+
+"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head and
+run away?"
+
+Bill considered for a moment.
+
+"Yes, I really think he might, you know. He nearly ran away when he saw
+the ghost. Of course, that's different, rather."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. In each case it's a question of obeying your instinct
+instead of your reason."
+
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees. Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
+behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were outside
+the boundary fence and in the high road. The road sloped gently down to
+the village of Waldheim a few red-roofed cottages, and the grey tower of
+a church showing above the green.
+
+"Well, now," said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, "what about
+Cayley?"
+
+"How do you mean, what about him?"
+
+"I want to see him. I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill. You
+were wonderful. Now let's have Cayley's character. Cayley from within."
+
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not a
+blooming novelist.
+
+"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy. Cayley's one of these heavy, quiet
+people, who might be thinking about anything. Mark gives himself
+away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
+
+"Some women like that type of ugliness."
+
+"Yes, that's true. Between ourselves, I think there's one here who does.
+Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left hand "down that
+way."
+
+"What's Jallands?"
+
+"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury. Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together. Miss
+Norbury--the girl--has been here once or twice for tennis; seemed to
+prefer Cayley to the rest of us. But of course he hadn't much time for
+that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to any
+theatres lately. He nearly always had something to do."
+
+"Mark kept him busy?"
+
+"Yes. Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing something
+for him. He was quite lost and helpless without him. And, funnily
+enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
+
+"He was fond of him?"
+
+"Yes, I should say so. In a protective kind of way. He'd sized Mark up,
+of course his vanity, his self-importance, his amateurishness and all
+the rest of it but he liked looking after him. And he knew how to manage
+him."
+
+"Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests--you and Miss
+Norris and all of them?"
+
+"Just polite and rather silent, you know. Keeping himself to himself. We
+didn't see so very much of him, except at meals. We were here to enjoy
+ourselves, and well, he wasn't."
+
+"He wasn't there when the ghost walked?"
+
+"No. I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house. I
+expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that girls
+will be girls....--Hallo, here we are."
+
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to the
+landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room. It appeared that he had not
+very much packing to do, after all. He returned his brushes to his bag,
+glanced sound to see that nothing else had been taken out, and went down
+again to settle his bill. He had decided to keep on his room for a few
+days; partly to save the landlord and his wife the disappointment of
+losing a guest so suddenly, partly in case he found it undesirable later
+on to remain at the Red House. For he was taking himself seriously as a
+detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while getting all the fun
+out of it which was possible) at every new profession he adopted; and he
+felt that there might come a time after the inquest, say when he could
+not decently remain at the Red House as a guest, a friend of Bill's,
+enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley, whichever was to be regarded
+as his host, without forfeiting his independent attitude towards the
+events of that afternoon. At present he was staying in the house merely
+as a necessary witness, and, since he was there, Cayley could not object
+to him using his eyes; but if, after the inquest, it appeared that there
+was still work for a pair of independent and very keen eyes to do, then
+he must investigate, either with his host's approval or from beneath the
+roof of some other host; the landlord of 'The George,' for instance, who
+had no feelings in the matter.
+
+For of one thing Antony was certain. Cayley knew more than he professed
+to know. That is to say, he knew more than he wanted other people to
+know he knew. Antony was one of the "other people"; if, therefore, he
+was for trying to find out what it was that Cayley knew, he could hardly
+expect Cayley's approval of his labours. It would be 'The George,' then,
+for Antony after the inquest.
+
+What was the truth? Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even though
+he were hiding something. All that could be said against him at the
+moment was that he had gone the longest way round to get into the locked
+office and that this did not fit in with what he had told the Inspector.
+But it did fit in with the theory that he had been an accessory after
+the event, and that he wanted (while appearing to be in a hurry) to give
+his cousin as much time as possible in which to escape. That might not
+be the true solution, but it was at least a workable one. The theory
+which he had suggested to the Inspector was not.
+
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which Antony
+could consider all these matters from within The Red House. The car was
+at the door. He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on the front
+seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. "Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+
+
+Anthony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner,
+and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the
+window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned
+over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He
+was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down
+his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an "Hallo!"
+through the door, and came in.
+
+"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
+
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Where's Mark?" he said.
+
+"Mark? You mean Cayley."
+
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. "Yes, I mean Cayley. Is
+he down? I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill." He got up from the bed and
+went on briskly with his dressing. "Oh, by the way," said Bill, taking
+his place on the bed, "your idea about the keys is a wash-out."
+
+"Why, how do you mean?"
+
+"I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
+thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the
+others are inside."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
+
+"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
+
+"Bother! I hoped you'd forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on the
+head, doesn't it?"
+
+"I never had a theory. I only said that if they were outside, it would
+probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that case
+Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
+
+"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything. Some were outside and
+some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting. When you
+were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the idea
+of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him."
+
+"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+"Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
+
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry
+as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
+conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+
+"You were quite right about the keys," said Bill, during a pause. He was
+less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than they,
+to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds of them
+all.
+
+"Keys?" said Cayley blankly.
+
+"We were wondering whether they were outside or inside."
+
+"Oh! oh, yes!" He looked slowly round the hall, at the different doors,
+and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony. "We both seem to have been
+right, Mr. Gillingham. So we don't get much farther."
+
+"No." He gave a shrug. "I just wondered, you know. I thought it was
+worth mentioning."
+
+"Oh, quite. Not that you would have convinced me, you know. Just as
+Elsie's evidence doesn't convince me."
+
+"Elsie?" said Bill excitedly. Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+
+"One of the housemaids," explained Cayley. "You didn't hear what she
+told the Inspector? Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that class make
+things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine."
+
+"What was it?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door that
+afternoon.
+
+"You were in the library then, of course," said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other. "She might have gone through the hall without
+your hearing."
+
+"Oh, I've no doubt she was there, and heard voices. Perhaps heard those
+very words. But--" He broke off, and then added impatiently, "It was
+accidental. I know it was accidental. What's the good of talking as if
+Mark was a murderer?" Dinner was announced at that moment, and as they
+went in, he added, "What's the good of talking about it at all, if it
+comes to that?"
+
+"What, indeed?" said Antony, and to Bill's great disappointment they
+talked of books and politics during the meal.
+
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were
+alight. He had business to attend to, as was natural. Bill would look
+after his friend. Bill was only too willing. He offered to beat
+Antony at billiards, to play him at piquet, to show him the garden by
+moonlight, or indeed to do anything else with him that he required.
+
+"Thank the Lord you're here," he said piously. "I couldn't have stood it
+alone."
+
+"Let's go outside," suggested Antony. "It's quite warm. Somewhere where
+we can sit down, right away from the house. I want to talk to you."
+
+"Good man. What about the bowling-green?"
+
+"Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren't you? Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?"
+
+"Rather. The ideal place. You'll see."
+
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left.
+Coming from Waldheim, Antony had approached the house that afternoon
+from the other side. The way they were going now would take them out
+at the opposite end of the park, on the high road to Stanton, a country
+town some three miles away. They passed by a gate and a gardener's
+lodge, which marked the limit of what auctioneers like to call "the
+ornamental grounds of the estate," and then the open park was before
+them.
+
+"Sure we haven't missed it?" said Antony. The park lay quietly in the
+moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way ahead
+of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+
+"Rum, isn't it?" said Bill. "An absurd place for a bowling green, but I
+suppose it was always here."
+
+"Yes, but always where? It's short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but--Hallo!"
+
+They had come to the place. The road bent round to the right, but they
+kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and there
+in front of them was the green. A dry ditch, ten feet wide and six
+feet deep, surrounded it, except in the one place where the path went
+forward. Two or three grass steps led down to the green, on which there
+was a long wooden beach for the benefit of spectators.
+
+"Yes, it hides itself very nicely," said Antony. "Where do you keep the
+bowls?"
+
+"In a sort of summer house place. Round here."
+
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+
+"H'm. Jolly view."
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"Nobody sits there. It's just for keeping things out of the rain."
+
+They finished their circuit of the green "Just in case anybody's in the
+ditch," said Antony and then sat down on the bench.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, "We are alone. Fire ahead."
+
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little. Then he took his pipe out of
+his mouth and turned to his friend.
+
+"Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?" he asked.
+
+"Watson?"
+
+"Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one. Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me
+chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your own
+two or three days after I have made them myself all that kind of thing?
+Because it all helps."
+
+"My dear Tony," said Bill delightedly, "need you ask?" Antony said
+nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, "I perceive from the
+strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert. Holmes, you astonish me. Tut, tut, you know my methods. Where
+is the tobacco? The tobacco is in the Persian slipper. Can I leave my
+practice for a week? I can."
+
+Antony smiled and went on smoking. After waiting hopefully for a minute
+or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+
+"Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything. Also whom do you suspect?"
+
+Antony began to talk.
+
+"Do you remember," he said, "one of Holmes's little scores over Watson
+about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging? Poor old
+Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he had never
+thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them as a matter of
+course, and knew that there were seventeen. And that was supposed to
+be the difference between observation and non-observation. Watson was
+crushed again, and Holmes appeared to him more amazing than ever. Now,
+it always seemed to me that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and
+Watson the sensible person. What on earth is the point of keeping in
+your head an unnecessary fact like that? If you really want to know
+at any time the number of steps to your lodging, you can ring up your
+landlady and ask her. I've been up and down the steps of the club a
+thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how many
+steps there are I couldn't do it. Could you?"
+
+"I certainly couldn't," said Bill.
+
+"But if you really wanted to know," said Antony casually, with a sudden
+change of voice, "I could find out for you without even bothering to
+ring up the hall-porter."
+
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps, but
+he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know how many they were.
+
+"Right," said Antony. "I'll find out."
+
+He closed his eyes.
+
+"I'm walking up St James' Street," he said slowly. "Now I've come to the
+club and I'm going past the smoking-room--windows-one-two three
+four. Now I'm at the steps. I turn in and begin going up them.
+One-two-three-four-five-six, then a broad step; six-seven-eight-nine,
+another broad step; nine-ten-eleven. Eleven I'm inside. Good morning,
+Rogers. Fine day again." With a little start he opened his eyes and came
+back again to his present surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile.
+"Eleven," he said. "Count them the next time you're there. Eleven and
+now I hope I shall forget it again."
+
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+
+"That's rather hot," he said. "Expound."
+
+"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual eye, or
+something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an uncanny habit
+of recording things unconsciously. You know that game where you look at
+a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then turn away and
+try to make a list of them. It means a devil of a lot of concentration
+for the ordinary person, if he wants to get his list complete, but in
+some odd way I manage to do it without concentration at all. I mean that
+my eyes seem to do it without the brain consciously taking any part. I
+could look at the tray, for instance, and talk to you about golf at the
+same time, and still get my list right."
+
+"I should think that's rather a useful gift for an amateur detective.
+You ought to have gone into the profession before."
+
+"Well, it is rather useful. It's rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger. Let's surprise Cayley with it, shall we?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, let's ask him--" Antony stopped and looked at Bill comically,
+"let's ask him what he's going to do with the key of the office."
+
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+
+"Key of the office?" he said vaguely. "You don't mean--Tony! What do you
+mean? Good God! do you mean that Cayley--But what about Mark?"
+
+"I don't know where Mark is--that's another thing I want to know--but
+I'm quite certain that he hasn't got the key of the office with him.
+Because Cayley's got it."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"I say," he said, almost pleadingly, "don't tell me that you can see
+into people's pockets and all that sort of thing as well."
+
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"You're the perfect Watson, Bill. You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn't to explain till the last chapter, but I
+always think that that's so unfair. So here goes. Of course, I don't
+really know that he's got it, but I do know that he had it. I know that
+when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked the door and put
+the key in his pocket."
+
+"You mean you saw him at the time, but that you've only just remembered
+it--reconstructed it in the way you were explaining just now?"
+
+"No. I didn't see him. But I did see something. I saw the key of the
+billiard-room."
+
+"Where?
+
+"Outside the billiard-room door."
+
+"Outside? But it was inside when we looked just now."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Who put it there?"
+
+"Obviously Cayley."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Let's go back to this afternoon. I don't remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit.
+Something like that, I daresay. Well, when I was sitting out by myself
+on that seat just before you came along, I went over the whole scene in
+my mind, and I suddenly saw the billiard-room key there outside. And I
+began to wonder if the office-key had been outside too. When Cayley came
+up, I told you my idea and you were both interested. But Cayley was just
+a shade too interested. I daresay you didn't notice it, but he was."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn't really
+prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other keys were,
+Mark might have locked his own private room from the inside sometimes.
+But I piled it on, and pretended that it was enormously important, and
+quite altered the case altogether, and having got Cayley thoroughly
+anxious about it, I told him that we should be well out of the way for
+the next hour or so, and that he would be alone in the house to do what
+he liked about it. And, as I expected, he couldn't resist it. He altered
+the keys and gave himself away entirely."
+
+"But the library key was still outside. Why didn't he alter that?"
+
+"Because he's a clever devil. For one thing, the Inspector had been
+in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already. And for
+another--" Antony hesitated.
+
+"What?" said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+
+"It's only guesswork. But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset about
+the key business. He suddenly realized that he had been careless, and
+he hadn't got time to think it all over. So he didn't want to commit
+himself definitely to the statement that the key was either outside or
+inside. He wanted to leave it vague. It was safest that way."
+
+"I see," said Bill slowly.
+
+But his mind was elsewhere. He was wondering suddenly about Cayley.
+Cayley was just an ordinary man--like himself. Bill had had little jokes
+with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at joking.
+Bill had helped him to sausages, played tennis with him, borrowed his
+tobacco, lent him a putter.... and here was Antony saying that he was
+what? Well, not an ordinary man, anyway. A man with a secret. Perhaps
+a murderer. No, not a murderer; not Cayley. That was rot, anyway. Why,
+they had played tennis together.
+
+"Now then, Watson," said Antony suddenly. "It's time you said
+something."
+
+"I say, Tony, do you really mean it?"
+
+"Mean what?"
+
+"About Cayley."
+
+"I mean what I said, Bill. No more."
+
+"Well, what does it amount to?"
+
+"Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and that
+Cayley knows exactly how he died. That's all. It doesn't follow that
+Cayley killed him."
+
+"No. No, of course it doesn't." Bill gave a sigh of relief. "He's just
+shielding Mark, what?"
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
+
+"It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let him down
+lightly. But then I'm not, you see."
+
+"Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
+
+"Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to give you
+a simpler one afterwards. Go on. Only remember the key is on the outside
+of the door to start with."
+
+"Yes; well, I don't mind that. Mark goes in to see his brother, and they
+quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying. Cayley hears
+the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away, locks the door,
+puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark has locked the door,
+and that he can't get in. How's that?"
+
+"Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not the
+other way round?"
+
+"Oh!" said Bill, rather upset. "Yes." He thought for a moment, "All
+right. Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen Robert on
+the ground."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, there you are."
+
+"And what does he say to Mark? That it's a fine afternoon; and could he
+lend him a pocket-handkerchief? Or does he ask him what's happened?"
+
+"Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
+reluctantly.
+
+"And what does Mark say?"
+
+"Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle."
+
+"Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill? Encouraging him to do
+the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do confess his guilt
+by running away!"
+
+"No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?" Bill thought again. "Well,"
+he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd murdered his
+brother?"
+
+"That's better, Bill. Don't be afraid of getting away from the accident
+idea. Well then, your new theory is this. Mark confesses to Cayley
+that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even at the risk of
+committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself, to help Mark to
+escape. Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Well then, I want to ask you two questions. First, is it possible, as I
+said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic murder--a
+murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck? Secondly, if
+Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway,
+now), wouldn't it be simpler for him to say that he was in the office
+all the time, and that Robert's death was accidental?"
+
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+
+"Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said. "Now let's have
+yours."
+
+Antony did not answer him. He had begun to think about something quite
+different.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.
+
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+
+"You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill. "What is it?"
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever as
+this."
+
+"Oh, you can't take me in!"
+
+"No.... Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill. It seems
+to me--"
+
+"Oh, that!" Bill was profoundly disappointed. "What on earth has the
+ghost got to do with it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Antony apologetically. "I don't know what anything
+has got to do with it. I was just wondering. You shouldn't have brought
+me here if you hadn't wanted me to think about the ghost. This is where
+she appeared, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes." Bill was distinctly short about it.
+
+"How?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I said, 'How?'"
+
+"How? How do ghosts appear? I don't know. They just appear."
+
+"Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
+
+"Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one--Lady Anne, you know--was supposed to walk."
+
+"Oh, never mind Lady Anne! A real ghost can do anything. But how did
+Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of bare park?"
+
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+
+"I--I don't know," he stammered. "We never thought of that."
+
+"You would have seen her long before, wouldn't you, if she had come the
+way we came?"
+
+"Of course we should."
+
+"And that would have spoilt it rather. You would have had time to
+recognize her walk."
+
+Bill was interested now.
+
+"That's rather funny, you know, Tony. We none of us thought of that."
+
+"You're sure she didn't come across the park when none of you were
+looking?"
+
+"Quite. Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we kept
+looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be playing with
+our backs to her."
+
+"You and Miss Calladine were playing together?"
+
+"I say, however do you know that?"
+
+"Brilliant deductive reasoning. Well, then you suddenly saw her?"
+
+"Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn." He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+
+"She couldn't have been hiding in the ditch? Do you call it the moat, by
+the way?"
+
+"Mark does. We don't among ourselves. No, she couldn't. Betty and I
+were here before the others, and walked round a bit. We should have seen
+her."
+
+"Then she must have been hiding in the shed. Or do you call it the
+summer-house?"
+
+"We had to go there for the bowls, of course. She couldn't have been
+there."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It's dashed funny," said Bill, after an interval for thought. "But it
+doesn't matter, does it? It has nothing to do with Robert."
+
+"Hasn't it?"
+
+"I say, has it?" said Bill, getting excited again.
+
+"I don't know. We don't know what has, or what hasn't. But it has
+got something to do with Miss Norris. And Miss Norris--" He broke off
+suddenly.
+
+"What about her?"
+
+"Well, you're all in it in a kind of way. And if something unaccountable
+happens to one of you a day or two before something unaccountable
+happens to the whole house, one is well, interested." It was a good
+enough reason, but it wasn't the reason he had been on the point of
+giving.
+
+"I see. Well?"
+
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+
+"Well then, let's find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came."
+
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+
+"By Jove! Do you mean there's a secret passage?"
+
+"A secluded passage, anyway. There must be."
+
+"I say, what fun! I love secret passages. Good Lord, and this afternoon
+I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant! What a life! Secret
+passages!"
+
+They made their way down into the ditch. If an opening was to be found
+which led to the house, it would probably be on the house side of the
+green, and on the outside of the ditch. The most obvious place at which
+to begin the search was the shed where the bowls were kept. It was a
+tidy place as anything in Mark's establishment would be. There were two
+boxes of croquet things, one of them with the lid open, as if the
+balls and mallets and, hoops (neatly enough put away, though) had been
+recently used; a box of bowls, a small lawn-mower, a roller and so
+forth. A seat ran along the back of it, whereon the bowls-players could
+sit when it rained.
+
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+
+"This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn't sound very hollow,
+does it?"
+
+"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round with
+bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too tall to stand
+upright in the shed.
+
+"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would save
+us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark didn't
+let you play croquet on his bowling-green?" He pointed to the croquet
+things.
+
+"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather keen
+about it. There's really nowhere else to play. Personally I hate the
+game. He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked calling it
+the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love you on Mark," he said. "You're priceless."
+
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then
+suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment he stood
+listening, with his head on one side, holding up a finger to bid Bill
+listen too.
+
+"What is it?" whispered Bill.
+
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening. Very quietly he
+went down on his knees, and listened again. Then he put his ear to the
+floor. He got up and dusted himself quickly, walked across to Bill and
+whispered in his ear:
+
+"Footsteps. Somebody coming. When I begin to talk, back me up."
+
+Bill nodded. Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and stepped
+firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to himself. He took
+the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on the floor, said, "Oh,
+Lord!" and went on:
+
+"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
+
+"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
+
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+
+"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
+
+"Then what do you want to do?"
+
+"Talk."
+
+"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"There's a seat on the lawn I saw it. Let's bring these things along in
+case we want to play, after all."
+
+"Right-o!" said Bill again. He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out his
+pipe.
+
+"Got a match?" he said loudly.
+
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, "There'll be somebody
+listening to us. You take the Cayley view," and then went on in his
+ordinary voice, "I don't think much of your matches, Bill," and struck
+another. They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+
+"What a heavenly night!" said Antony.
+
+"Ripping."
+
+"I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now."
+
+"It's a rum business."
+
+"You agree with Cayley that it was an accident?"
+
+"Yes. You see, I know Mark."
+
+"H'm." Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began to write
+on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked. He said that he thought Mark
+had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley knew, or anyhow
+guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a chance of getting away.
+
+"Mind you, I think he's right. I think it's what any of us would do. I
+shan't give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or two little
+things which make me think that Mark really did shoot his brother I mean
+other than accidentally."
+
+"Murdered him?"
+
+"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it's not my
+business."
+
+"But why do you think so? Because of the keys?"
+
+"Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of mine,
+Wasn't it? And it would have been rather a score for me if they had all
+been outside."
+
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill. In
+the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily be read:
+
+"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND AS
+IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING."
+
+"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read, "but
+you'll see that I'm right."
+
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and Betty and
+all the other things which had made up his world lately. This was the
+real thing. This was life. "Well," he began deliberately, "the whole
+point is that I know Mark. Now, Mark--"
+
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into the
+ditch. His intention was to crawl round it until the shed came in sight.
+The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be underneath the shed;
+probably there was a trap-door of some kind in the floor. Whoever it was
+would have heard their voices, and would probably think it worth while
+to listen to what they were saying. He might do this merely by opening
+the door a little without showing himself, in which case Antony would
+have found the entrance to the passage without any trouble to himself.
+But when Bill turned his head and talked over the back of the seat, it
+was probable that the listener would find it necessary to put his head
+outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able to discover
+who it was. Moreover, if he should venture out of his hiding-place
+altogether and peep at them over the top of the bank, the fact that Bill
+was talking over the back of the seat would mislead the watcher into
+thinking that Antony was still there, sitting on the grass, no doubt,
+behind the seat, swinging his legs over the side of the ditch.
+
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and then
+went even more carefully along the width of it to the second corner.
+He could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his knowledge of Mark's
+character that this, that and the other must have happened, and he
+smiled appreciatively to himself. Bill was a great conspirator worth a
+hundred Watsons. As he approached the second corner he slowed down, and
+did the last few yards on hands and knees. Then, lying at full length,
+inch by inch his head went round the corner.
+
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of
+the ditch. From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it.
+Everything seemed to be as they left it. The bowls-box, the lawn-mower,
+the roller, the open croquet-box, the--
+
+"By Jove!" said Antony to himself, "that's neat."
+
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too. Bill was turning round
+now; his voice became more difficult to hear. "You see what I mean," he
+was saying. "If Cayley--"
+
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley's black head.
+
+Antony wanted to shout his applause. It was neat, devilish neat. For a
+moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of croquet-ball
+which had appeared so dramatically out of the box, and then reluctantly
+wriggled himself back. There was nothing to be gained by staying there,
+and a good deal to be lost, for Bill showed signs of running down. As
+quickly as he could Antony hurried round the ditch and took up his place
+at the back of the seat. Then he stood up with a yawn, stretched himself
+and said carelessly, "Well, don't worry yourself about it, Bill, old
+man. I daresay you're right. You know Mark, and I don't; and that's the
+difference. Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?"
+
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, "Oh, just
+let's have one game, shall we?"
+
+"Right you are," said Antony.
+
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very
+seriously. Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of nothing
+but bowls. He played with great deliberation for ten minutes, and then
+announced that he was going to bed. Bill looked at him anxiously.
+
+"It's all right," laughed Antony. "You can talk if you want to. Just
+let's put 'em away first, though."
+
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting the
+bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box. As he
+expected, it was locked.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, as they were walking back to the house again,
+"I'm simply bursting to know. Who was it?"
+
+"Cayley."
+
+"Good Lord! Where?"
+
+"Inside one of the croquet-boxes."
+
+"Don't be an ass."
+
+"It's quite true, Bill." He told the other what he had seen.
+
+"But aren't we going to have a look at it?" asked Bill, in great
+disappointment. "I'm longing to explore. Aren't you?"
+
+"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow. We shall see Cayley coming along
+this way directly. Besides, I want to get in from the other end, if I
+can. I doubt very much if we can do it this end without giving ourselves
+away. Look, there's Cayley."
+
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them. When they were a
+little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+
+"I wondered where you were," he said, as he got up to them. "I rather
+thought you might be along this way. What about bed?"
+
+"Bed it is," said Antony.
+
+"We've been playing bowls," added Bill, "and talking, and--and playing
+bowls. Ripping night, isn't it?"
+
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to the
+house, to Antony. He wanted to think. There seemed to be no doubt now
+that Cayley was a villain. Bill had never been familiar with a villain
+before. It didn't seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow; he was taking
+rather a mean advantage of his friends. Lot of funny people there were
+in the world funny people with secrets. Look at Tony, that first time he
+had met him in a tobacconist's shop. Anybody would have thought he was
+a tobacconist's assistant. And Cayley. Anybody would have thought that
+Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person. And Mark. Dash it! one
+could never be sure of anybody. Now, Robert was different. Everybody had
+always said that Robert was a shady fellow.
+
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it? What had Miss
+Norris got to do with it? This was a question which Antony had already
+asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him now that he had found
+the answer. As he lay in bed that night he reassembled his ideas, and
+looked at them in the new light which the events of the evening threw
+upon the dark corners in his brain.
+
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his
+guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered. He would want this for
+their own sake as well as for his. But he had been a little too quick
+about suggesting it, and about seeing the suggestion carried out. They
+had been bustled off as soon as they could be packed. The suggestion
+that they were in his hands, to go or stay as he wished, could have been
+left safely to them. As it was, they had been given no alternative,
+and Miss Norris, who had proposed to catch an after-dinner train at the
+junction, in the obvious hope that she might have in this way a
+dramatic cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed detective, was
+encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the earlier train
+with the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the tragedy which had
+suddenly befallen the house, ought to have been equally indifferent to
+her presence or absence. But he was not; and Antony assumed from this
+that Cayley was very much alive to the necessity for her absence.
+
+Why?
+
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand. But the fact that
+it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for this reason
+that he had followed up so alertly Bill's casual mention of her in
+connection with the dressing-up business. He felt that he wanted to know
+a little more about Miss Norris and the part she had played in the Red
+House circle. By sheer luck, as it seemed to him, he had stumbled on the
+answer to his question.
+
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert's
+death. Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic
+appearance as the ghost. Possibly she had discovered it for herself;
+possibly Mark had revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing
+that she would make so unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley,
+having been let into the joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how she
+could make her appearance on the bowling-green even more mysterious and
+supernatural. One way or another, she knew about the secret passage. So
+she must be hurried away.
+
+Why? Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent
+mention of it. And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+
+Why, again? Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge of
+its existence, might provide a clue.
+
+"I wonder if Mark's hiding there," thought Antony; and he went to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+
+
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning, and
+found that his host was before him. Cayley looked up from his letters
+and nodded.
+
+"Any word of Mr. Ablett--of Mark?" said Antony, as he poured out his
+coffee.
+
+"No. The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon."
+
+"Oh! Is there a lake?"
+
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley's face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+
+"Well, it's really a pond," he said, "but it was called 'the lake.'"
+
+"By Mark," thought Antony. Aloud he said, "What do they expect to find?"
+
+"They think that Mark--" He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn't get away? And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," said Cayley slowly.
+
+"I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for
+his money. After all, he had a revolver. If he was determined not to
+be taken alive, he could always have prevented that. Couldn't he have
+caught a train to London before the police knew anything about it?"
+
+"He might just have managed it. There was a train. They would have
+noticed him at Waldheim, of course, but he might have managed it at
+Stanton. He's not so well-known there, naturally. The inspector has been
+inquiring. Nobody seems to have seen him."
+
+"There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on. There was
+never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who swear to
+have seen him at a dozen different places at the same time."
+
+Cayley smiled.
+
+"Yes. That's true. Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first." He added
+dryly, "From what I've read of detective stories, inspectors always do
+want to drag the pond first."
+
+"Is it deep?"
+
+"Quite deep enough," said Cayley as he got up. On his way to the door he
+stopped, and looked at Antony. "I'm so sorry that we're keeping you here
+like this, but it will only be until to-morrow. The inquest is to-morrow
+afternoon. Do amuse yourself how you like till then. Beverley will look
+after you."
+
+"Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right."
+
+Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors
+liked dragging ponds, but the question was, Did Cayleys like having them
+dragged? Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He certainly
+did not seem to be anxious, but he could hide his feelings very easily
+beneath that heavy, solid face, and it was not often that the real
+Cayley peeped out. Just a little too eager once or twice, perhaps, but
+there was nothing to be learnt from it this morning. Perhaps he knew
+that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all, inspectors were
+always dragging ponds.
+
+Bill came in noisily.
+
+Bill's face was an open book. Excitement was written all over it.
+
+"Well," he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal,
+"what are we going to do this morning?"
+
+"Not talk so loudly, for one thing," said Antony. Bill looked about
+him apprehensively. Was Cayley under the table, for example? After last
+night one never knew.
+
+"Is er--" He raised his eyebrows.
+
+"No. But one doesn't want to shout. One should modulate the voice, my
+dear William, while breathing gently from the hips. Thus one avoids
+those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret. In other words,
+pass the toast."
+
+"You seem bright this morning."
+
+"I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, 'Were it not that I
+have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee. Fain
+would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little hills.
+But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch tarries
+outside with his shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will attend
+thee anon. Farewell, a long farewell to all--thy grape-nuts.' He then
+left up-centre. Enter W. Beverley, R."
+
+"Are you often like this at breakfast?"
+
+"Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. 'Exit W. Beverley, L."
+
+"It's a touch of the sun, I suppose," said Bill, shaking his head sadly.
+
+"It's the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do
+you know anything about Orion's Belt, for instance? And why isn't there
+a star called Beverley's Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Re-enter
+W. Beverley through trap-door."
+
+"Talking about trap-doors--"
+
+"Don't," said Antony, getting up. "Some talk of Alexander and some of
+Hercules, but nobody talks about--what's the Latin for trap-door?--Mensa
+a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr. Beverley,"--and he
+slapped him heartily on the back as he went past him--"I shall see you
+later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so far you have not made
+me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing when you have finished
+your breakfast. But don't hurry. Let the upper mandibles have time to
+do the work." With those words Mr. Gillingham then left the spacious
+apartment.
+
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not
+know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind him;
+not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within sight
+of Antony, who was not going to take any risks. So he went on with his
+breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if
+he had dreamed only of the amazing things which had happened the day
+before.
+
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by
+a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he
+remembered.
+
+"Is it Elsie?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it was
+that she had achieved such notoriety.
+
+"It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn't it? I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, sir."
+
+"'It's my turn now. You wait,'" murmured Antony to himself.
+
+"Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, that's what I heard, sir. Truly."
+
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+"Yes. I wonder. I wonder why."
+
+"Why what, sir?"
+
+"Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?"
+
+Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about
+it.
+
+"Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she
+stopped him.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?"
+
+"Oh, yes. To-morrow, I think."
+
+"Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?"
+
+"Of course. There's nothing to be frightened of."
+
+"I did hear it, sir. Truly."
+
+"Why, of course you did. Who says you didn't?"
+
+"Some of the others, sir, Mrs. Stevens and all."
+
+"Oh, that's just because they're jealous," said Antony with a smile.
+
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once
+the immense importance of her evidence. To the Inspector no doubt it
+had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have adopted
+something of a threatening attitude towards his brother. To Antony it
+had much more significance. It was the only trustworthy evidence that
+Mark had been in the office at all that afternoon.
+
+For who saw Mark go into the office? Only Cayley. And if Cayley had been
+hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be hiding the truth
+about Mark's entry into the office? Obviously all Cayley's evidence went
+for nothing. Some of it no doubt was true; but he was giving it, both
+truth and falsehood, with a purpose. What the purpose was Antony did not
+know as yet; to shield Mark, to shield himself, even to betray Mark
+it might be any of these. But since his evidence was given for his own
+ends, it was impossible that it could be treated as the evidence of
+an impartial and trustworthy onlooker. Such, for instance, as Elsie
+appeared to be.
+
+Elsie's evidence, however, seemed to settle the point. Mark had gone
+into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both talking;
+and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert.... and the
+Inspector was going to drag the pond.
+
+But certainly Elsie's evidence did not prove anything more than the mere
+presence of Mark in the room. "It's my turn now; you wait." That was not
+an immediate threat;--it was a threat for the future. If Mark had shot
+his brother immediately afterwards it must have been an accident, the
+result of a struggle, say, provoked by that "nasty-like" tone of voice.
+Nobody would say "You wait" to a man who was just going to be shot. "You
+wait" meant "You wait, and see what's going to happen to you later on."
+The owner of the Red House had had enough of his brother's sponging,
+his brother's blackmail; now it was Mark's turn to get a bit of his own
+back. Let Robert just wait a bit, and he would see. The conversation
+which Elsie had overheard might have meant something like this. It
+couldn't have meant murder. Anyway not murder of Robert by Mark.
+
+"It's a funny business," thought Antony. "The one obvious solution is so
+easy and yet so wrong. And I've got a hundred things in my head, and I
+can't fit them together. And this afternoon will make a hundred and one.
+I mustn't forget this afternoon."
+
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll. Bill was only too
+ready. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.
+
+"I don't mind much. Show me the park."
+
+"Righto."
+
+They walked out together.
+
+"Watson, old man," said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, "you really mustn't talk so loudly indoors. There was a gentleman
+outside, just behind you, all the time."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Bill, going pink. "I'm awfully sorry. So that's why
+you were talking such rot."
+
+"Partly, yes. And partly because I do feel rather bright this morning.
+We're going to have a busy day."
+
+"Are we really? What are we going to do?"
+
+"They're going to drag the pond--beg its pardon, the lake. Where is the
+lake?"
+
+"We're on the way to it now, if you'd like to see it."
+
+"We may as well look at it. Do you haunt the lake much in the ordinary
+way?"
+
+"Oh, no, rather not. There's nothing to do there."
+
+"You can't bathe?"
+
+"Well, I shouldn't care to. Too dirty."
+
+"I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn't it? The way to the
+village?"
+
+"Yes. We go off a bit to the right directly. What are they dragging it
+for?"
+
+"Mark."
+
+"Oh, rot," said Bill uneasily. He was silent for a little, and then,
+forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance of the
+exciting times they were having, said eagerly, "I say, when are we going
+to look for that passage?"
+
+"We can't do very much while Cayley's in the house."
+
+"What about this afternoon when they're dragging the pond? He's sure to
+be there."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"There's something I must do this afternoon," he said. "Of course we
+might have time for both."
+
+"Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?"
+
+"Well, I think he ought to be."
+
+"I say, is it anything rather exciting?"
+
+"I don't know. It might be rather interesting. I daresay I could do it
+at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o'clock, somehow.
+I've been specially keeping it back for then."
+
+"I say, what fun! You do want me, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do. Only, Bill don't talk about things inside the house,
+unless I begin. There's a good Watson."
+
+"I won't. I swear I won't."
+
+They had come to the pond--Mark's lake--and they walked silently round
+it. When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the grass, and
+relit his pipe. Bill followed his example.
+
+"Well, Mark isn't there," said Antony.
+
+"No," said Bill. "At least, I don't quite see why you know he isn't."
+
+"It isn't 'knowing,' it's 'guessing,'" said Antony rapidly. "It's much
+easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark had wanted
+to shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not letting the body be
+found, he'd have put big stones in his pockets, and the only big stones
+are near the water's edge, and they would have left marks, and they
+haven't, and therefore he didn't, and oh, bother the pond; that can wait
+till this afternoon. Bill, where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes. You see, my idea is this."
+
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage was
+concerned in some way with the secret of Robert's death, and went on:
+
+"My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet. The passage came out into
+the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley's idea to put a
+croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely. You
+know, when once you've discovered a secret yourself, it always seems
+as if it must be so obvious to everybody else. I can imagine that Mark
+loved having this little secret all to himself and to Cayley, of course,
+but Cayley wouldn't count and they must have had great fun fixing it up,
+and making it more difficult for other people to find out. Well then,
+when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it away. Probably
+he told her that she could never get down to the bowling-green without
+being discovered, and then perhaps showed that he knew there was one way
+in which she could do it, and she wormed the secret out of him somehow."
+
+"But this was two or three days before Robert turned up."
+
+"Exactly. I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about the
+passage in the first place. It was just a little private bit of romance
+and adventure for Mark, three days ago. He didn't even know that Robert
+was coming. But somehow the passage has been used since, in connection
+with Robert. Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps he's hiding there
+now. And if so, then the only person who could give him away was Miss
+Norris. And she of course would only do it innocently not knowing that
+the passage had anything to do with it."
+
+"So it was safer to have her out of the way?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about this end of it?
+We can always get in at the bowling-green end."
+
+"I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly. It will mean
+breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we've done it. You
+see, Bill, if we don't find anything out for ourselves in the next day
+or two, we've got to tell the police what we have found out, and then
+they can explore the passage for themselves. But I don't want to do that
+yet."
+
+"Rather not.
+
+"So we've got to carry on secretly for a bit. It's the only way." He
+smiled and added, "And it's much more fun."
+
+"Rather!" Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Very well. Where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+
+
+"There's one thing, which we have got to realize at once," said Antony,
+"and that is that if we don't find it easily, we shan't find it at all."
+
+"You mean that we shan't have time?"
+
+"Neither time nor opportunity. Which is rather a consoling thought to a
+lazy person like me."
+
+"But it makes it much harder, if we can't really look properly."
+
+"Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look. For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley's bedroom. Well, now we know that it
+doesn't."
+
+"We don't know anything of the sort," protested Bill.
+
+"We--know for the purposes of our search. Obviously we can't go
+tailing into Cayley's bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and obviously,
+therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must assume that it
+doesn't begin there."
+
+"Oh, I see." Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully. "Anyhow, it
+wouldn't begin on an upstairs floor, would it?"
+
+"Probably not. Well, we're getting on."
+
+"You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house," said
+Bill, after more thought. "We can't go there."
+
+"Right. And the cellars, if there are any."
+
+"Well, that doesn't leave us much."
+
+"No. Of course it's only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it, but
+what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of the few
+places in which we can look safely."
+
+"All it amounts to," said Bill, "is the living-rooms downstairs
+dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office rooms."
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+"Well, the office is the most likely, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes. Except for one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Well, it's on the wrong side of the house. One would expect the passage
+to start from the nearest place to which it is going. Why make it longer
+by going under the house first?"
+
+"Yes, that's true. Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?"
+
+"Yes. And the library for choice. I mean for our choice. There are
+always servants going into dining-rooms. We shouldn't have much of a
+chance of exploring properly in there. Besides, there's another thing to
+remember. Mark has kept this a secret for a year. Could he have kept
+it a secret in the dining-room? Could Miss Norris have got into the
+dining-room and used the secret door just after dinner without being
+seen? It would have been much too risky."
+
+Bill got up eagerly.
+
+"Come along," he said, "let's try the library. If Cayley comes in, we
+can always pretend we're choosing a book."
+
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house with
+him.
+
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages. Antony could
+never resist another person's bookshelves. As soon as he went into the
+room, he found himself wandering round it to see what books the owner
+read, or (more likely) did not read, but kept for the air which they
+lent to the house. Mark had prided himself on his library. It was a
+mixed collection of books. Books which he had inherited both from his
+father and from his patron; books which he had bought because he was
+interested in them or, if not in them, in the authors to whom he wished
+to lend his patronage; books which he had ordered in beautifully bound
+editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves, lending a
+noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture should ever
+be without them; old editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap
+books, a library in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure
+of finding something to suit him.
+
+"And which is your particular fancy, Bill?" said Antony, looking from
+one shelf to another. "Or are you always playing billiards?"
+
+"I have a look at 'Badminton' sometimes," said Bill.
+
+"It's over in that corner there." He waved a hand.
+
+"Over here?" said Antony, going to it.
+
+"Yes." He corrected himself suddenly.--"Oh, no, it's not. It's over
+there on the right now. Mark had a grand re-arrangement of his library
+about a year ago. It took him more than a week, he told us. He's got
+such a frightful lot, hasn't he?"
+
+"Now that's very interesting," said Antony, and he sat down and filled
+his pipe again.
+
+There was indeed a "frightful lot" of books. The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only where
+the door and the two windows insisted on living their own life, even
+though an illiterate one. To Bill it seemed the most hopeless room of
+any in which to look for a secret opening.
+
+"We shall have to take every blessed book down," he said, "before we can
+be certain that we haven't missed it."
+
+"Anyway," said Antony, "if we take them down one at a time, nobody
+can suspect us of sinister designs. After all, what does one go into a
+library for, except to take books down?"
+
+"But there's such a frightful lot."
+
+Antony's pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+
+"Well, let's have a look," he said, "and see if they are so very
+frightful. Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.' You often read that, you
+say?"
+
+"If I read anything."
+
+"Yes." He looked down and up the shelf. "Sport and Travel chiefly. I
+like books of travel, don't you?"
+
+"They're pretty dull as a rule."
+
+"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony,
+reproachfully. He moved on to the next row of shelves. "The Drama. The
+Restoration dramatists. You can have most of them. Still, as you well
+remark, many people seem to love them. Shaw, Wilde, Robertson--I like
+reading plays, Bill. There are not many people who do, but those who do
+are usually very keen. Let us pass on."
+
+"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
+
+"We haven't. That's why we aren't wasting any. Poetry. Who reads poetry
+nowadays? Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise Lost'?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I thought not. And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The Excursion'
+aloud to you?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, Betty--Miss Calladine--happens to be jolly keen on
+what's the beggar's name?"
+
+"Never mind his name. You have said quite enough. We pass on."
+
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+
+"Biography. Oh, lots of it. I love biographies. Are you a member of the
+Johnson Club? I bet Mark is. 'Memories of Many Courts' I'm sure Mrs.
+Calladine reads that. Anyway, biographies are just as interesting as
+most novels, so why linger? We pass on." He went to the next shelf, and
+then gave a sudden whistle. "Hallo, hallo!"
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill rather peevishly.
+
+"Stand back there. Keep the crowd back, Bill. We are getting amongst it.
+Sermons, as I live. Sermons. Was Mark's father a clergyman, or does Mark
+take to them naturally?"
+
+"His father was a parson, I believe. Oh, yes, I know he was."
+
+"Ah, then these are Father's books. 'Half-Hours with the Infinite' I
+must order that from the library when I get back. 'The Lost Sheep,'
+'Jones on the Trinity,' 'The Epistles of St. Paul Explained.' Oh, Bill,
+we're amongst it. 'The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore
+Ussher' hal-LO!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"William, I am inspired. Stand by." He took down the Reverend Theodore
+Ussher's classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for a moment, and
+then gave it to Bill.
+
+"Here, hold Ussher for a bit."
+
+Bill took the book obediently.
+
+"No, give it me back. Just go out into the hall, and see if you can hear
+Cayley anywhere. Say 'Hallo' loudly, if you do."
+
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+
+"It's all right."
+
+"Good." He took the book out of its shelf again. "Now then, you can hold
+Ussher. Hold him in the left hand so. With the right or dexter hand,
+grasp this shelf firmly so. Now, when I say 'Pull,' pull gradually. Got
+that?"
+
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+
+"Good." Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout Ussher, and
+fingered the back of the shelf. "Pull," he said.
+
+Bill pulled.
+
+"Now just go on pulling like that. I shall get it directly. Not hard,
+you know, but just keeping up the strain."
+
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom, swung
+gently open towards them.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill's fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa and
+deposited him in it. Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+
+"Child's play, Watson," he said; "child's play."
+
+"How on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+
+"You don't really want it explained," he said, smacking him on the knee;
+"you're just being Watsonish. It's very nice of you, of course, and I
+appreciate it."
+
+"No, but really, Tony."
+
+"Oh, my dear Bill!" He smoked silently for a little, and then went on,
+"It's what I was saying just now a secret is a secret until you have
+discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder why
+everybody else isn't discovering it, and how it could ever have been a
+secret at all. This passage has been here for years, with an opening at
+one end into the library, and at the other end into the shed. Then Mark
+discovered it, and immediately he felt that everybody else must discover
+it. So he made the shed end more difficult by putting the croquet-box
+there, and this end more difficult by--" he stopped and looked at the
+other "by what, Bill?"
+
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Obviously by re-arranging his books. He happened to take out 'The Life
+of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat,' or whatever it was, and by the
+merest chance discovered the secret. Naturally he felt that everybody
+else would be taking down 'The Life of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a
+Boat.' Naturally he felt that the secret would be safer if nobody ever
+interfered with that shelf at all. When you said that the books had been
+re-arranged a year ago just about the time the croquet-box came into
+existence; of course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the dullest
+books I could find, the books nobody ever read. Obviously the collection
+of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we wanted."
+
+"Yes, I see. But why were you so certain of the particular place?"
+
+"Well, he had to mark the particular place by some book. I thought
+that the joke of putting 'The Narrow Way' just over the entrance to the
+passage might appeal to him. Apparently it did."
+
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times. "Yes, that's very
+neat," he said. "You're a clever devil, Tony."
+
+Tony laughed.
+
+"You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful."
+
+"Well, come on, then," said Bill, and he got up, and held out a hand.
+
+"Come on where?"
+
+"To explore the passage, of course."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Why ever not?"
+
+"Well, what do you expect to find there?"
+
+"I don't know. But you seemed to think that we might find something that
+would help."
+
+"Suppose we find Mark?" said Antony quietly.
+
+"I say, do you really think he's there?"
+
+"Suppose he is?"
+
+"Well, then, there we are."
+
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his pipe,
+and turned back to Bill. He looked at him gravely without speaking.
+
+"What are you going to say to him?" he said at last.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?"
+
+"I--I--well, of course, I--" began Bill, stammering, and then ended
+lamely, "Well, I don't know."
+
+"Exactly. We've got to make up our minds, haven't we?"
+
+Bill didn't answer. Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and then
+at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were trying to
+learn what lay behind it. Which side was he on, if it came to choosing
+sides--Mark's or the Law's?
+
+"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo!' to him," said Antony,
+breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+
+"Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr. Gillingham,
+who is staying with you. We were just going to have a game of bowls.'"
+
+"Yes, it's dashed difficult. I don't know what to say. I've been rather
+forgetting about Mark." He wandered over to the window and looked out on
+to the lawns. There was a gardener clipping the grass edges. No reason
+why the lawn should be untidy just because the master of the house had
+disappeared. It was going to be a hot day again. Dash it, of course he
+had forgotten Mark. How could he think of him as an escaped murderer,
+a fugitive from justice, when everything was going on just as it did
+yesterday, and the sun was shining just as it did when they all drove
+off to their golf, only twenty-four hours ago? How could he help feeling
+that this was not real tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of detective
+game that he and Antony were playing?
+
+He turned back to his friend.
+
+"All the same," he said, "you wanted to find the passage, and now you've
+found it. Aren't you going into it at all?"
+
+Antony took his arm.
+
+"Let's go outside again," he said. "We can't go into it now, anyhow.
+It's too risky, with Cayley about. Bill, I feel like you--just a little
+bit frightened. But what I'm frightened of I don't quite know. Anyway,
+you want to go on with it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill firmly. "We must."
+
+"Then we'll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the chance.
+And if we don't get the chance, then we'll try it to-night."
+
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+
+"Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?" asked Bill.
+
+"It's possible," said Antony. "Either Mark or--" He pulled himself up
+quickly. "No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let myself think that
+not yet, anyway. It's too horrible."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. A Shadow on the Wall
+
+
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been busy.
+He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark in the brown
+flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he had made inquiries
+at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to this description had
+been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the evidence which had been
+volunteered to him had been inconclusive, it made it possible that
+Mark had indeed caught that train, and had arrived in London before the
+police at the other end had been ready to receive him. But the fact that
+it was market-day at Stanton, and that the little town would be more
+full than usual of visitors, made it less likely that either the
+departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of Robert by the 2.10
+earlier in the afternoon, would have been particularly noticed. As
+Antony had said to Cayley, there would always be somebody ready to hand
+the police a circumstantial story of the movements of any man in whom
+the police were interested.
+
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain. To find out more
+about him in time for the inquest would be difficult. All that was known
+about him in the village where he and Mark had lived as boys bore out
+the evidence of Cayley. He was an unsatisfactory son, and he had been
+hurried off to Australia; nor had he been seen since in the village.
+Whether there were any more substantial grounds of quarrel between the
+two brothers than that the younger one was at home and well-to-do,
+while the elder was poor and an exile, was not known, nor, as far as the
+inspector could see, was it likely to be known until Mark was captured.
+
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately. Dragging
+the pond might not help towards this, but it would certainly give the
+impression in court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling the case
+with zeal. And if only the revolver with which the deed was done was
+brought to the surface, his trouble would be well repaid. "Inspector
+Birch produces the weapon" would make an excellent headline in the local
+paper.
+
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked to
+the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the mood for
+a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend, Mr. Beverley.
+He gave them a cheerful "Good afternoon," and added with a smile,
+"Coming to help us?"
+
+"You don't really want us," said Antony, smiling back at him.
+
+"You can come if you like."
+
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+
+"You can tell me afterwards what you find," he said. "By the way," he
+added, "I hope the landlord at 'the George' gave me a good character?"
+
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+
+"Now how on earth do you know anything about that?"
+
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+
+"Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the Force."
+
+The inspector laughed.
+
+"Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham. You got a clean bill. But
+I had to make certain about you.
+
+"Of course you did. Well, I wish you luck. But I don't think you'll
+find much at the pond. It's rather out of the way, isn't it, for anybody
+running away?"
+
+"That's just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to the
+pond. However, we shan't do any harm by looking. It's the unexpected
+that's the most likely in this sort of case."
+
+"You're quite right, Inspector. Well, we mustn't keep you. Good
+afternoon," and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."
+
+"Good afternoon," said Bill.
+
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent for
+so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him rather
+crossly what was the matter.
+
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"I don't know; really I don't know. It's too devilish what I keep
+thinking. He can't be as cold-blooded as that."
+
+"Who?"
+
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on which
+they had been sitting. He sat there with his head in his hands.
+
+"Oh, I hope they find something," he murmured. "Oh, I hope they do."
+
+"In the pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Anything, Bill; anything."
+
+Bill was annoyed. "I say, Tony, this won't do. You really mustn't be so
+damn mysterious. What's happened to you suddenly?"
+
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+
+"Didn't you hear what he said?"
+
+"What, particularly?"
+
+"That it was Cayley's idea to drag the pond."
+
+"Oh! Oh, I say!" Bill was rather excited again. "You mean that he's
+hidden something there? Some false clue which he wants the police to
+find?"
+
+"I hope so," said Antony earnestly, "but I'm afraid--" He stopped short.
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"Afraid that he hasn't hidden anything there. Afraid that--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What's the safest place in which to hide anything very important?"
+
+"Somewhere where nobody will look."
+
+"There's a better place than that."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Somewhere where everybody has already looked."
+
+"By Jove! You mean that as soon as the pond has been dragged, Cayley
+will hide something there?"
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why afraid?"
+
+"Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn't easily be hidden anywhere else."
+
+"What?" asked Bill eagerly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk about it yet. We can wait and see what the
+Inspector finds. He may find something--I don't know what--something
+that Cayley has put there for him to find. But if he doesn't, then it
+will be because Cayley is going to hide something there to-night."
+
+"What?" asked Bill again.
+
+"You will see what, Bill," said Antony; "because we shall be there."
+
+"Are we going to watch him?"
+
+"Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing."
+
+"That's good," said Bill.
+
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as to
+which side he was taking. Previous to the tragedy of yesterday he had
+got on well enough with both of the cousins, without being in the least
+intimate with either. Indeed, of the two he preferred, perhaps, the
+silent, solid Cayley to the more volatile Mark. Cayley's qualities, as
+they appeared to Bill, may have been chiefly negative; but even if this
+merit lay in the fact that he never exposed whatever weaknesses he may
+have had, this is an excellent quality in a fellow-guest (or, if you
+like, fellow-host) in a house where one is continually visiting. Mark's
+weaknesses, on the other hand, were very plain to the eye, and Bill had
+seen a good deal of them.
+
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in
+regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of the
+Law against Cayley. Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but Cayley
+had committed an unforgivable offence. Cayley had listened secretly to
+a private conversation between himself and Tony. Let Cayley hang, if the
+Law demanded it.
+
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+
+"Come along," he said. "It's time for that job I spoke about."
+
+"The passage?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, of course. What is it?"
+
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+
+It was three o'clock, and at three o'clock yesterday Antony and Cayley
+had found the body. At a few minutes after three, he had been looking
+out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been surprised suddenly
+to find the door open and Cayley behind him. He had vaguely wondered at
+the time why he had expected the door to be shut, but he had had no time
+then to worry the thing out, and he had promised himself to look into
+it at his leisure afterwards. Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if
+it meant anything, he could have found out its meaning by a visit to
+the office that morning. But he had felt that he would be more likely
+to recapture the impressions of yesterday if he chose as far as possible
+the same conditions for his experiment. So he had decided that three
+o'clock that afternoon should find him once more in the office.
+
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a shock
+that there was now no body of Robert lying there between the two doors.
+But there was a dark stain which showed where the dead man's head had
+been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt twenty-four hours
+before.
+
+"I want to go through it again," he said. "You must be Cayley. Cayley
+said he would get some water. I remember thinking that water wasn't
+much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too glad to
+do anything rather than nothing. He came back with a wet sponge and
+a handkerchief. I suppose he got the handkerchief from the chest of
+drawers. Wait a bit."
+
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled open
+a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back to the
+office.
+
+"The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top right-hand
+drawer. Now then, Bill, just pretend you're Cayley. You've just said
+something about water, and you get up."
+
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling
+beside his friend, got up and walked out. Antony, as he had done on the
+previous day, looked up after him as he went. Bill turned into the room
+on the right, opened the drawer and got the handkerchief, damped the
+sponge and came back.
+
+"Well?" he said wonderingly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"It's all different," he said. "For one thing, you made a devil of a
+noise and Cayley didn't."
+
+"Perhaps you weren't listening when Cayley went in?"
+
+"I wasn't. But I should have heard him if I could have heard him, and I
+should have remembered afterwards."
+
+"Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him."
+
+"Wait!"
+
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought. It wasn't anything which
+he had heard, but something which he had seen. He tried desperately hard
+to see it again.... He saw Cayley getting up, opening the door from the
+office, leaving it open and walking into the passage, turning to the
+door on the right, opening it, going in, and then--What did his eyes see
+after that? If they would only tell him again!
+
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight. "Bill, I've got it!" he cried.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The shadow on the wall! I was looking at the shadow on the wall. Oh,
+ass, and ten times ass!"
+
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him. Antony took his arm and pointed to
+the wall of the passage.
+
+"Look at the sunlight on it," he said. "That's because you've left the
+door of that room open. The sun comes straight in through the windows.
+Now, I'm going to shut the door. Look! D'you see how the shadow moves
+across? That's what I saw the shadow moving across as the door shut
+behind him. Bill, go in and shut the door behind you quite naturally.
+Quick!"
+
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+
+"I thought so!" he cried. "I knew it couldn't have been that."
+
+"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.
+
+"Just what you would expect. The sunlight came, and the shadow moved
+back again all in one movement."
+
+"And what happened yesterday?"
+
+"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly back,
+and there was no noise of the door being shut."
+
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+"By Jove! You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards--as an
+afterthought--and very quietly, so that you couldn't hear?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Yes. That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into
+the room to find the door open behind me. You know how those doors with
+springs on them close?"
+
+"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"
+
+"Yes. Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
+slowly they swing to-well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that sort
+of door. By Jove!" He got up, and dusted his knees. "Now, Bill, just to
+make sure, go in and close the door like that. As an afterthought, you
+know; and very quietly, so that I don't hear the click of it."
+
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear what
+had happened.
+
+"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction. "That was just
+what I saw yesterday." He came out of the office, and joined Bill in the
+little room.
+
+"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr. Cayley
+was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that his friend
+Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. The Open Window
+
+
+Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something; something,
+perhaps, which he had found by the body, and but that was absurd. In the
+time at his disposal, he could have done no more than put it away in a
+drawer, where it would be much more open to discovery by Antony than if
+he had kept it in his pocket. In any case he would have removed it by
+this time, and hidden it in some more secret place. Besides, why in this
+case bother about shutting the door?
+
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+
+"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.
+
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked. "Did he ever change
+down here?"
+
+"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world. He just
+kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect. When you and I
+go from London to the country we carry our clothes about with us. Mark
+never did. In his flat in London he had everything all over again which
+he has here. It was a hobby with him, collecting clothes. If he'd
+had half a dozen houses, they would all have been full of a complete
+gentleman's town and country outfit."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
+next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
+comfortable coat."
+
+"I see. Yes." He was walking round the room as he answered, and he
+lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash basin and
+glanced in. "He seems to have come in here for a collar lately."
+
+Bill peered in. There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+
+"Yes. I daresay he would," he agreed. "If he suddenly found that the one
+he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or something. He
+was very finicking."
+
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+
+"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after examining it
+carefully. "It couldn't very well be cleaner." He dropped it back again.
+"Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"
+
+"Oh, yes, rather."
+
+"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"
+
+"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill. "That's what I don't
+understand. You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."
+
+"No. So it follows that I might have heard him. He was going to do
+something which he didn't want me to hear."
+
+"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Yes; but what?"
+
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+
+"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by the
+effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out. Then,
+struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you think
+I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still at it?
+Because--"
+
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.
+
+"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried. "Oh, most super-excellent of Watsons!
+Oh, you lamb, you blessing! Oh, Gillingham, you incomparable ass!"
+
+"What on earth--"
+
+"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.
+
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something. As it
+said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+
+"He was opening the window!" cried Antony.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Cayley, of course." Very gravely and slowly he expounded. "He came in
+here in order to open the window. He shut the door so that I shouldn't
+hear him open the window. He opened the window. I came in here and found
+the window open. I said, 'This window is open. My amazing powers of
+analysis tell me that the murderer must have escaped by this window.'
+'Oh,' said Cayley, raising his eyebrows. 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you
+must be right.' Said I proudly, 'I am. For the window is open,' I said.
+Oh, you incomparable ass!"
+
+He understood now. It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+
+He tried to put himself in Cayley's place--Cayley, when Antony had first
+discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let me in!" Whatever
+had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert, Cayley knew
+all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had not escaped by
+the window. But it was necessary to Cayley's plans--to Mark's plans
+if they were acting in concert--that he should be thought so to have
+escaped. At some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his
+pocket) at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered--with what
+a shock!--that a mistake had been made. A window had not been left open!
+
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first. Was the
+office window open? Surely it was open! Was it?.... Would he have time
+now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows and slip out
+again? No. At any moment the servants might come. It was too risky.
+Fatal, if he were discovered. But servants were stupid. He could get
+the windows safely open while they were crowding round the body. They
+wouldn't notice. He could do it somehow.
+
+And then Antony's sudden appearance! Here was a complication. And Antony
+suggesting that they should try the window! Why, the window was just
+what he wanted to avoid. No wonder he had seemed dazed at first.
+
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the longest
+way round and yet run. It was Cayley's only chance of getting a start
+on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of working them open somehow
+before Antony caught him up. Even if that were impossible, he must get
+there first, just to make sure. Perhaps they were open. He must get away
+from Antony and see. And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he
+must have a moment to himself, a moment in which to think of some other
+plan, and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+
+So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken in the
+window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was not done yet.
+There was the dressing-room window! But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't
+hear.
+
+And Antony didn't hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley splendidly.
+Not only had he called attention to the open window, but he had
+carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this particular window
+in preference to the office window. And Cayley had agreed that probably
+that was the reason. How he must have chuckled to himself! But he was
+still a little afraid. Afraid that Antony would examine the shrubbery.
+Why? Obviously because there was no trace of anyone having broken
+through the shrubbery. No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces
+since, and had helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as
+far as footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard. Perhaps
+footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he thought of the big
+Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark's shoes. Cayley
+must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.
+
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig or
+two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't hear. And Antony had not
+heard.... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill was
+listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of yesterday's happenings.
+It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get them any further.
+It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+
+"What's that?" said Antony.
+
+"Mark. Where's Mark? If he never went into the office at all, then where
+is he now?"
+
+"I don't say that he never went into the office. In fact, he must have
+gone. Elsie heard him." He stopped and repeated slowly, "She heard him,
+at least she says she did. But if he was there, he came out again by the
+door."
+
+"Well, but where does that lead you?"
+
+"Where it led Mark. The passage."
+
+"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?" Antony was
+silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort he
+came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+
+"I don't know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation. I don't
+know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm rather frightened.
+Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be going to happen.
+However, here is an explanation. See if you can find any fault with it."
+
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he lay
+back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above him,
+and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being enacted
+over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they happened.
+
+"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an accident;
+probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is in a panic,
+naturally. But he doesn't lock the door and run away. For one thing, the
+key is on the outside of the door; for another, he is not, quite such a
+fool as that. But he is in a horrible position. He is known to be on bad
+terms with his brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him,
+which may possibly have been overheard. What is he to do? He does
+the natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
+circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable Cayley.
+
+"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley will
+tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is coming to see
+what is the matter. He explains rapidly. 'What's to be done, Cay?
+what's to be done? It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. He
+threatened me. He would have shot me if I hadn't. Think of something,
+quick!'
+
+"Cayley has thought of something. 'Leave it to me,' he says. 'You clear
+out altogether. I shot him, if you like. I'll do all the explaining. Get
+away. Hide. Nobody saw you go in. Into the passage, quick. I'll come to
+you there as soon as I can.'
+
+"Good Cayley. Faithful Cayley! Mark's courage comes back. Cayley
+will explain all right. Cayley will tell the servants that it was an
+accident. He will ring up the police. Nobody will suspect Cayley--Cayley
+has no quarrel with Robert. And then Cayley will come into the passage
+and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out by the other
+end, and saunter slowly back to the house. He will be told the news by
+one of the servants. Robert accidentally shot? Good Heavens!
+
+"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library. And Cayley goes to
+the door of the office.... and locks it. And then he bangs on the door
+and shouts, 'Let me in!'"
+
+Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+
+"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense. What's the point of Cayley
+behaving like that?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+
+"And what has happened to Mark since?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.
+
+"You're ready to go?"
+
+"Quite," said Bill, surprised.
+
+"You're quite ready for what we may find?"
+
+"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."
+
+"I know I am." He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm being
+an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am." He looked at his
+watch.
+
+"It's safe, is it? They're still busy at the pond?"
+
+"We'd better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill--one of
+those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
+get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
+without letting him see you?"
+
+"Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait."
+
+Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he
+cried.
+
+"Mark?"
+
+"Yes. What Elsie heard him say."
+
+"Oh, that."
+
+"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
+him?"
+
+"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean."
+
+"Oh?"
+
+"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain, but--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything." He
+rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous, high-pitched voice,
+and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, "I say, that was
+really rather good."
+
+Antony nodded quickly. "That was like it?" he said.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes." He got up and squeezed Bill's arm. "Well just go and see about
+Cayley, and then we'll get moving. I shall be in the library."
+
+"Right."
+
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was
+glorious fun; this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be
+bettered. First of all he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little
+copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards away from
+it. He would come into this from the back, creep cautiously through
+it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then, drawing himself on his
+stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him. People were
+always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
+hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it himself.
+What fun!
+
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported to
+Antony, they were going to explore the secret passage! Again, what fun!
+Unfortunately there seemed to be no chance of buried treasure, but there
+might be buried clues. Even if you found nothing, you couldn't get away
+from the fact that a secret passage was a secret passage, and anything
+might happen in it. But even that wasn't the end of this exciting day.
+They were going to watch the pond that night; they were going to watch
+Cayley under the moonlight, watch him as he threw into the silence of
+the pond what? The revolver? Well, anyhow, they were going to watch him.
+What fun!
+
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they
+were getting, it did not seem fun. But it was amazingly interesting.
+He saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of focus. It was like
+looking at an opal, and discovering with every movement of it some new
+colour, some new gleam of light reflected, and yet never really seeing
+the opal as a whole. He was too near it, or too far away; he strained
+his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good. His brain could not
+get hold of it.
+
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned away
+from it. He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never seen
+murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and to which he was
+afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded killing which any man
+may come to if he lose control. It was something much more horrible. Too
+horrible to be true. Then let him look again for the truth. He looked
+again but it was all out of focus.
+
+"I will not look again," he said aloud, as he began to walk towards
+the house. "Not yet, anyway." He would go on collecting facts and
+impressions. Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+
+
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley was
+still at the pond.
+
+"But I don't think they're getting up much except mud," he said. "I ran
+most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible."
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Well, come along, then," he said. "The sooner, the quicker."
+
+They stood in front of the row of sermons. Antony took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher's famous volume, and felt for the spring. Bill pulled.
+The shelves swung open towards them.
+
+"By Jove!" said Bill, "it is a narrow way."
+
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had
+something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about two
+feet from the ground. But, save for one row of bricks in front, the
+floor of it was emptiness. Antony took a torch from his pocket and
+flashed it down into the blackness.
+
+"Look," he whispered to the eager Bill. "The steps begin down there. Six
+feet down."
+
+He flashed his torch up again. There was a handhold of iron, a sort of
+large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+
+"You swing off from there," said Bill. "At least, I suppose you do. I
+wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it."
+
+"Cayley helped her, I should think.... It's funny."
+
+"Shall I go first?" asked Bill, obviously longing to do so. Antony shook
+his head with a smile.
+
+"I think I will, if you don't mind very much, Bill. Just in case."
+
+"In case of what?"
+
+"Well in case."
+
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to wonder
+what Antony meant.
+
+"Righto," he said. "Go on."
+
+"Well, we'll just make sure we can get back again, first. It really
+wouldn't be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the rest
+of our lives. He's got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if he has
+to find you and me as well--"
+
+"We can always get out at the other end."
+
+"Well, we're not certain yet. I think I'd better just go down and back.
+I promise faithfully not to explore."
+
+"Right you are."
+
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat
+there for a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the
+darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began; then returned
+it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him and swung himself
+down. His feet touched the steps beneath him, and he let go.
+
+"Is it all right?" said Bill anxiously.
+
+"All right. I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back. Stay
+there."
+
+The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For
+a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint
+splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a little
+longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was alone....
+
+Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, turning round with a start, "Cayley!"
+
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in
+action. Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely
+but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the right places,
+to move away to another row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in
+"Badminton" or "Baedeker" or whomever the kind gods should send to his
+aid the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in
+five seconds rather than in six.
+
+"Ah, there you are," said Cayley from the doorway.
+
+"Hallo!" said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume of
+"The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge." "Have they finished?"
+
+"Finished what?"
+
+"The pond," said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on such
+a fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason....
+verifying a quotation--an argument with Antony--that would do. But what
+quotation?
+
+"Oh, no. They're still at it. Where's Gillingham?"
+
+'The Ancient Mariner'--water, water, everywhere--or was that something
+else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...
+
+"Tony? Oh, he's about somewhere. We're just going down to the village.
+They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?"
+
+"No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can say
+they've done it."
+
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back to it
+again. He was just getting to the place.
+
+"What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of
+his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that
+glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?
+
+"I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled. "Tony and I had a
+bet about it. You know that thing about--er water, water everywhere,
+and--er--not a drop to drink." (But what on earth, he wondered to
+himself, were they betting about?)
+
+"'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate."
+
+Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.
+
+"Quite sure?" he said.
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Then you've saved me a lot of trouble. That's, what the bet was about."
+He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf, and began
+to feel for his pipe and tobacco. "I was a fool to bet with Tony," he
+added. "He always knows that sort of thing."
+
+So far, so good. But here was Cayley still in the library, and there was
+Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage. When Antony came back he would
+not be surprised to find the door closed, because the whole object of
+his going had been to see if he could open it easily from the inside. At
+any moment, then, the bookshelf might swing back and show Antony's head
+in the gap. A nice surprise for Cayley!
+
+"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
+anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+
+"I've got to go into Stanton."
+
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered
+also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, a pity. You're driving, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes. The car will be here directly. There's a letter I must write
+first." He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any
+moment now it might open.
+
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned. Obviously.
+But how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code. Did Antony
+know it? Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He had picked up
+a bit in the Army not enough to send a message, of course. But a
+message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It
+wouldn't do to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know?
+And what letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at
+his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What letter?
+
+C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was
+just worth trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that right? C yes, that was C. He was sure of
+that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it
+might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk
+or something. He wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley, and
+began to tap absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the titles.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first; he
+couldn't get the rhythm of it.... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy. That was
+better. He was back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin
+to hear him soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a
+man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on
+the lawn. Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat
+knocking out his pipe. Would Antony understand? Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.
+C. for Cayley, Antony. Cayley's here. For God's sake, wait.
+
+"Good Lord! Sermons!" said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy) "Ever read 'em, Cayley?"
+
+"What?" Cayley looked up suddenly. Bill's back moved slowly along, his
+fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+
+"Er no," said Cayley, with a little laugh. An awkward, uncomfortable
+little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+
+"Nor do I." He was past the sermons now past the secret door but still
+tapping in the same aimless way.
+
+"Oh, for God's sake sit down," burst out Cayley. "Or go outside if you
+want to walk about."
+
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+
+"Hallo, what's the matter?"
+
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+
+"Sorry, Bill," he apologized. "My nerves are on edge. Your constant
+tapping and fidgeting about--"
+
+"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+
+"Tapping on the shelves, and humming. Sorry. It got on my nerves."
+
+"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry. I'll go out in the hall."
+
+"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter. Bill sat
+down in his chair again. Had Antony understood? Well, anyhow, there was
+nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go. "And if you ask me," said
+Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought to be on the stage. That's where
+I ought to be. The complete actor."
+
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes. It was safe now.
+Antony had guessed.
+
+"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to talk to
+the chauffeur. Cayley joined him, and they stood there for a moment.
+
+"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them. They turned round and saw
+Antony.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
+
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said casually
+enough that it was all right.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Cayley. "You're going down to the village?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+"I wonder if you'd take this letter to Jallands for me?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Thanks very much. Well, I shall see you later."
+
+He nodded and got into the car.
+
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+
+"Well?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Come into the library."
+
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+
+"You must give me a moment," he panted. "I've been running."
+
+"Running?"
+
+"Well, of course. How do you think I got back here?"
+
+"You don't mean you went out at the other end?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I say, did you hear me tapping?"
+
+"I did, indeed. Bill, you're a genius."
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"I knew you'd understand," he said. "You guessed that I meant Cayley?"
+
+"I did. It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant. You
+must have had rather an exciting time."
+
+"Exciting? Good Lord, I should think it was."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications for a
+life on the stage.
+
+"Good man," said Antony at the end of it. "You are the most perfect
+Watson that ever lived. Bill, my lad," he went on dramatically, rising
+and taking Bill's hand in both of his, "There is nothing that you and I
+could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it."
+
+"Silly old ass."
+
+"That's what you always say when I'm being serious. Well, anyway, thanks
+awfully. You really saved us this time."
+
+"Were you coming back?"
+
+"Yes. At least I think I was. I was just wondering when I heard you
+tapping. The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising. Of
+course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily from the
+other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn't shut it until the last
+possible moment--until you saw me coming back. Well, then I heard the
+taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat tight. Then when C
+began to come along I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove'--bright, aren't I?--and I
+simply hared to the other end of the passage for all I was worth. And
+hared back again. Because I thought you might be getting rather involved
+in explanations--about where I was, and so on."
+
+"You didn't see Mark, then?"
+
+"No. Nor his--No, I didn't see anything."
+
+"Nor what?"
+
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+
+"I didn't see anything, Bill. Or rather, I did see something; I saw a
+door in the wall, a cupboard. And it's locked. So if there's anything we
+want to find, that's where it is."
+
+"Could Mark be hiding there?"
+
+"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?' he
+would have thought it was Cayley. There was no answer.
+
+"Well, let's go down and try again. We might be able to get the door
+open."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+
+"Can Cayley drive a car?"
+
+"Yes, of course. Why?"
+
+"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"
+
+"I suppose so if he wanted to."
+
+"Yes." Antony got up. "Well, look here, as we said we were going into
+the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost think
+we'd better do it."
+
+"Oh!.... Oh, very well."
+
+"Jallands. What were you telling me about that? Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury."
+
+"That's right. Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter. The
+letter's for her."
+
+"Yes; well, let's take it. Just to be on the safe side."
+
+"Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?" asked
+Bill fretfully.
+
+"There's nothing to see, really, I promise you."
+
+"You're very mysterious. What's upset you? You did see something down
+there, I'm certain of it."
+
+"I did and I've told you about it."
+
+"No, you haven't. You only told me about the door in the wall."
+
+"That's it, Bill. And it's locked. And I'm frightened of what's behind
+it."
+
+"But then we shall never know what's there if we aren't going to look."
+
+"We shall know to-night," said Antony, taking Bill's arm and leading him
+to the hall, "when we watch our dear friend Cayley dropping it into the
+pond."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+
+
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped
+gently downwards towards Jallands. Antony was silent, and since it is
+difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any length
+of time, Bill had dropped into silence too. Or rather, he hummed
+to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and made
+uncomfortable noises with his pipe. But he noticed that his companion
+kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted to remember
+for a future occasion the way by which they were coming. Yet there was
+no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time in view of the
+road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall which bordered its
+further side stood out clearly against the sky.
+
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+
+"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+
+"Cayley. Didn't you see?"
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The car. Going past on the road there."
+
+"So that's what you were looking for. You've got jolly good eyes, my
+boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing it
+twice."
+
+"Well, I have got jolly good eyes."
+
+"I thought he was going to Stanton."
+
+"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
+
+"Then where is he going?"
+
+"The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After making
+quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really were going to
+Jallands, as they said."
+
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+
+"I say, do you think so?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient for him,
+hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when we're definitely
+somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
+
+"Useful for what?"
+
+"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he's mixed
+up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two. Even if he
+doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel that at any
+moment we might stumble on something."
+
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+
+"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+
+"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him. Bill pushed it
+through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's better," and returned
+the pipe to his pocket.
+
+"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
+
+"Well, that wants thinking over. It's going to be difficult. I wish we
+were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any chance?"
+
+Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old thatched
+farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up to a new world,
+and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however, of so discreet
+a growth that they had not brought with them any obvious change of
+character, and Jallands even with a bathroom was still Jallands. To the
+outward view, at any rate. Inside, it was more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
+
+"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill. "Not bad-looking, is she?"
+
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something
+more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill was keeping
+his superlatives for another. In Bill's eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine. To
+Antony, unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed, quite
+simply, beautiful.
+
+"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over. "Here you are."
+
+"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about what
+has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless even to
+believe it. If it is true what we've heard."
+
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+
+"Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?" She shook her head in
+distress. "It still seems to have happened to somebody else; somebody we
+didn't know at all." Then, with a sudden grave smile which included both
+of them, "But you must come and have some tea."
+
+"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we--er--"
+
+"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see any man
+in her house who came up to the necessary standard of eligibility. When
+her life-work was completed, and summed up in those beautiful words: "A
+marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place, between Angela,
+daughter of the late John Norbury...." then she would utter a grateful
+Nunc dimittis and depart in peace to a better world, if Heaven insisted,
+but preferably to her new son-in-law's more dignified establishment.
+For there was no doubt that eligibility meant not only eligibility as a
+husband.
+
+But it was not as "eligibles" that the visitors from the Red House were
+received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special smile for
+"possibles" was there, it was instinctive rather than reasoned. All that
+she wanted at this moment was news--news of Mark. For she was bringing
+it off at last; and, if the engagement columns of the "Morning Post"
+were preceded, as in the case of its obituary columns, by a premonitory
+bulletin, the announcement of yesterday would have cried triumphantly
+to the world, or to such part of the world as mattered: "A marriage has
+very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly take
+place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John Norbury, and--Mark
+Ablett of the Red House." And, coming across it on his way to the
+sporting page, Bill would have been surprised. For he had thought that,
+if anybody, it was Cayley.
+
+To the girl it was neither. She was often amused by her mother's ways;
+sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them. The Mark Ablett
+affair had seemed to her particularly distressing, for Mark was so
+obviously in league with her mother against her. Other suitors, upon
+whom her mother had smiled, had been embarrassed by that championship;
+Mark appeared to depend on it as much as on his own attractions; great
+though he thought these to be. They went a-wooing together. It was a
+pleasure to turn to Cayley, that hopeless ineligible.
+
+But alas! Cayley had misunderstood her. She could not imagine Cayley in
+love until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it. That was four
+days ago. She had not seen him since, and now here was this letter. She
+dreaded opening it. It was a relief to feel that at least she had an
+excuse for not doing so while her guests were in the house.
+
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the more
+sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and Angela had
+been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and efficiency of
+the expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on the sofa beside her,
+listening to many things which were of even greater interest to him than
+she could possibly have hoped.
+
+"It is terrible, terrible," she said. "And to suggest that dear Mr.
+Ablett--"
+
+Antony made suitable noises.
+
+"You've seen Mr. Ablett for yourself. A kinder, more warmhearted man--"
+
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Of course, yes, I was forgetting. But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham, you
+can trust a woman's intuition in these matters."
+
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+
+"Think of my feelings as a mother."
+
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury's feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed with
+a stranger. Yet what could he do? What, indeed, did he want to do except
+listen, in the hope of learning? Mark engaged, or about to be engaged!
+Had that any bearing on the events of yesterday? What, for instance,
+would Mrs. Norbury have thought of brother Robert, that family skeleton?
+Was this another reason for wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+
+"I never liked him, never!"
+
+"Never liked?" said Antony, bewildered.
+
+"That cousin of his Mr. Cayley."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my little
+girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?"
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't, Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else."
+
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+
+"I never liked him," said Mrs. Norbury firmly. "Never." However, thought
+Antony to himself, that didn't quite prove that Cayley was a murderer.
+
+"How did Miss Norbury get on with him?" he asked cautiously.
+
+"There was nothing in that at all," said Miss Norbury's mother
+emphatically. "Nothing. I would say so to anybody."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon. I never meant--"
+
+"Nothing. I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence.
+Whether he made advances--" She broke off with a shrug of her plump
+shoulders.
+
+Antony waited eagerly.
+
+"Naturally they met. Possibly he might have--I don't know. But my duty
+as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+
+"I told him quite frankly that--how shall I put it?--that he was
+trespassing. Tactfully, of course. But frankly."
+
+"You mean," said Antony, trying to speak calmly, "that you told him
+that--er--Mr. Ablett and your daughter--?"
+
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+
+"Exactly, Mr. Gillingham. I had my duty as a mother."
+
+"I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing your
+duty. But it must have been disagreeable. Particularly if you weren't
+quite sure--"
+
+"He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham. Obviously attracted."
+
+"Who would not be?" said Antony, with a charming smile. "It must have
+been something of a shock to him to--"
+
+"It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken. I saw at once
+that I had not spoken a moment too soon."
+
+"There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next meeting,"
+suggested Antony.
+
+"Naturally, he has not been here since. No doubt they would have been
+bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later."
+
+"Oh,--this was only quite lately?"
+
+"Last week, Mr. Gillingham. I spoke just in time."
+
+"Ah!" said Antony, under his breath. He had been waiting for it.
+
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have thought
+over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably, to have
+changed partners for a little while with Bill. Miss Norbury would hardly
+be ready to confide in a stranger with the readiness of a mother, but he
+might have learnt something by listening to her. For which of them had
+she the greater feeling, Cayley or Mark? Was she really prepared to
+marry Mark? Did she love him or the other--or neither? Mrs. Norbury was
+only a trustworthy witness in regard to her own actions and thoughts;
+he had learnt all that was necessary of those, and only the daughter now
+had anything left to tell him. But Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+
+"Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham," she was saying. "It is fortunate
+that they have mothers to guide them. It was so obvious to me from the
+beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband for my little girl.
+You never knew him?"
+
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Such a gentleman. So nice-looking, in his artistic way. A regular
+Velasquez--I should say Van Dyck. Angela would have it that she could
+never marry a man with a beard. As if that mattered, when--" She broke
+off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+
+"The Red House is certainly charming," he said.
+
+"Charming. Quite charming. And it is not as if Mr. Ablett's appearance
+were in any way undistinguished. Quite the contrary. I'm sure you agree
+with me?"
+
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Yes. And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world. So
+desirable in every way."
+
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little. Antony
+was, about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs. Norbury began
+again.
+
+"And then there's this scapegrace brother of his. He was perfectly frank
+with me, Mr. Gillingham. He would be. He told me of this brother, and
+I told him that I was quite certain it would make no difference to
+my daughter's feelings for him.... After all, the brother was in
+Australia."
+
+"When was this? Yesterday?" Antony felt that, if Mark had only mentioned
+it after his brother's announcement of a personal call at the Red House,
+this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom behind it.
+
+"It couldn't have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham. Yesterday--" she
+shuddered, and shook her head.
+
+"I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning."
+
+"Oh, no! There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too devoted a
+lover. Not in the morning, no. We both agreed that dear Angela--Oh,
+no. No; the day before yesterday, when he happened to drop in about
+tea-time."
+
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her
+opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically engaged.
+She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be rushed, that dear
+Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at all.
+
+"The day before yesterday. As it happened, dear Angela was out. Not that
+it mattered. He was driving to Middleston. He hardly had time for a cup
+of tea, so that even if she had been in--"
+
+Antony nodded absently. This was something new. Why did Mark go to
+Middleston the day before yesterday? But, after all, why shouldn't he?
+A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might have taken
+him there.
+
+He got up to go. He wanted to be alone--alone, at least, with Bill.
+Mrs. Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great
+outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason to
+hate Mark,--Mrs. Norbury had given him that reason. To hate? Well, to be
+jealous, anyhow. But that was enough.
+
+"You see," he said to Bill, as they walked back, "we know that Cayley is
+perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and that must
+be for one of two reasons. Either to save Mark or to endanger him.
+That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly
+against him. Well, now we know that he is against him, definitely
+against him."
+
+"But, I say, you know," protested Bill, "one doesn't necessarily try to
+ruin one's rival in love."
+
+"Doesn't one?" said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean--"
+
+"You mightn't try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn't perjure yourself
+in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making."
+
+"Lord! no."
+
+"So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely."
+
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them from
+the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and leant
+against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the house which
+they had left.
+
+"Jolly little place, isn't it?" said Bill.
+
+"Very. But rather mysterious."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Well, where's the front door?"
+
+"The front door? Why, you've just come out of it."
+
+"But isn't there a drive, or a road or anything?"
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"No; that's the beauty of it to some people. And that's why it's so
+cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect. They're not too
+well off."
+
+"But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?"
+
+"Oh, there's a cart-track, but motor-cars can't come any nearer than the
+road" he turned round and pointed "up there. So the week-end millionaire
+people don't take it. At least, they'd have to build a road and a garage
+and all the rest of it, if they did."
+
+"I see," said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and continued
+their walk up to the road. But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. Getting Ready for the Night
+
+
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night?
+Antony thought that he knew now. It was Mark's body.
+
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back
+from it. For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded
+killing. Was Cayley equal to it? Bill would have said "No," but that was
+because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with him, and dinner
+with him; had ragged him and played games with him. Bill would have said
+"No," because Bill wouldn't have killed anybody in cold blood himself,
+and because he took it for granted that other people behaved pretty much
+as he did. But Antony had no such illusions. Murders were done; murder
+had actually been done here, for there was Robert's dead body. Why not
+another murder?
+
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon? The only evidence
+(other than Cayley's, which obviously did not count) was Elsie's. Elsie
+was quite certain that she had heard his voice. But then Bill had said
+that it was a very characteristic voice--an easy voice, therefore, to
+imitate. If Bill could imitate it so successfully, why not Cayley?
+
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all.
+Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over the
+girl whom they were both wooing. Suppose Cayley had killed Mark, either
+purposely, in sudden passion, or accidentally, meaning only to knock
+him down. Suppose that this had happened in the passage, say about
+two o'clock, either because Cayley had deliberately led him there, or
+because Mark had casually suggested a visit to it. (One could imagine
+Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.) Suppose Cayley
+there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round his
+neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search for a way
+of escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly he remembers
+that Robert is coming to the house at three o'clock that
+afternoon--automatically he looks at his watch--in half an hour's
+time.... In half an hour's time. He must think of something quickly,
+quickly. Shall he bury the body in the passage and let it be thought
+that Mark ran away, frightened at the mere thought of his brother's
+arrival? But there was the evidence of the breakfast table. Mark had
+seemed annoyed at this resurrection of the black sheep, but certainly
+not frightened. No; that was much too thin a story. But suppose Mark had
+actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose it could
+be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark--
+
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over the dead
+body of his cousin, and working it out. How could Robert be made to seem
+the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it? But suppose Robert were
+dead, too?
+
+He looks at his watch again. (Only twenty-five minutes now.) Suppose
+Robert were dead, too? Robert dead in the office, and Mark dead in the
+passage how does that help? Madness! But if the bodies were brought
+together somehow and Robert's death looked like suicide?.... Was it
+possible?
+
+Madness again. Too difficult. (Only twenty minutes now.) Too difficult
+to arrange in twenty minutes. Can't arrange a suicide. Too difficult....
+Only nineteen minutes....
+
+And then the sudden inspiration! Robert dead in the office, Mark's body
+hidden in the passage--impossible to make Robert seem the murderer, but
+how easy to make Mark! Robert dead and Mark missing; why, it jumped to
+the eye at once. Mark had killed Robert--accidentally; yes, that would
+be more likely--and then had run away. Sudden panic.... (He looks at his
+watch again. Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now. The thing arranges
+itself.)
+
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered. It seemed to fit in with the
+facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory which he had
+suggested to Bill in the morning.
+
+"Which one?" said Bill.
+
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting in
+the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and his fishermen had
+now withdrawn. Bill had listened with open mouth to Antony's theory, and
+save for an occasional "By Jove!" had listened in silence. "Smart man,
+Cayley," had been his only comment at the end.
+
+"Which other theory?"
+
+"That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the
+office door from the outside and hammered on it."
+
+"Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that. I asked you what
+the point of it was, and you wouldn't say anything." He thought for a
+little, and then went on, "I suppose you meant that Cayley deliberately
+betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like a murderer?"
+
+"I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the passage,
+alive or dead."
+
+"And now you don't think so?"
+
+"Now I think that his dead body is there."
+
+"Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards after you had
+come, after the police had come?"
+
+"Well, that's what I shrink from, Bill. It's so horribly cold-blooded.
+Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of it."
+
+"But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough. According to
+you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with whom he
+has no quarrel, whom he hasn't seen for fifteen years!"
+
+"Yes, but to save his own neck. That makes a difference. My theory is
+that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed him in
+sudden passion. Anything that happened after that would be self-defense.
+I don't mean that I excuse it, but that I understand it. And I think
+that Mark's dead body is in the passage now, and has been there since,
+say, half-past two yesterday afternoon. And to-night Cayley is going to
+hide it in the pond."
+
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful
+or two, and said slowly, "You may be right, but it's all guess-work, you
+know."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Good Lord, of course it is," he said. "And to-night we shall know if
+it's a good guess or a bad one."
+
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+
+"To-night," he said. "I say, to-night's going to be rather fun. How do
+we work it?"
+
+Antony was silent for a little.
+
+"Of course," he said at last, "we ought to inform the police, so that
+they can come here and watch the pond to-night."
+
+"Of course," grinned Bill.
+
+"But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories
+before them."
+
+"I think perhaps it is," said Bill solemnly.
+
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+
+"Bill, you old bounder."
+
+"Well, dash it, it's our show. I don't see why we shouldn't get our
+little bit of fun out of it."
+
+"Neither do I. All right, then, we'll do without the police to-night."
+
+"We shall miss them," said Bill sadly, "but 'tis better so."
+
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of getting
+out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and secondly, the
+problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley dropped into the pond
+that night.
+
+"Let's look at it from Cayley's point of view," said Antony. "He may not
+know that we're on his track, but he can't help being suspicious of
+us. He's bound to be suspicious of everybody in the house, and more
+particularly of us, because we're presumably more intelligent than the
+others."
+
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the opportunity
+of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he's going to take good
+care that we aren't watching him. Well, what will he do?"
+
+"See that we are asleep first, before he starts out."
+
+"Yes. Come and tuck us up, and see that we're nice and comfortable."
+
+"Yes, that's awkward," said Bill. "But we could lock our doors, and then
+he wouldn't know that we weren't there."
+
+"Have you ever locked your door?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"No. And you can bet that Cayley knows that. Anyway, he'd bang on it,
+and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?"
+
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+
+"Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep
+thought. "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out, and that
+doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of him."
+
+"Let's put ourselves in his place," said Antony, puffing slowly at his
+pipe. "He's got the body, or whatever it is, in the passage. He won't
+come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look in at our doors to
+see if we're awake. He'll have to make sure about us first, and then go
+down for the body afterwards. So that gives us a little time."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill doubtfully. "We might just do it, but it'll be a bit
+of a rush."
+
+"But wait. When he's gone down to the passage and got the body, what
+will he do next?"
+
+"Come out again," said Bill helpfully.
+
+"Yes; but which end?"
+
+Bill sat up with a start.
+
+"By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?"
+
+"Don't you think so? Just imagine him walking across the lawn in full
+view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms. Think of
+the awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering if
+anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to wander
+to the window and look out into the night. There's still plenty of
+moonlight, Bill. Is he going to walk across the park in the moonlight,
+with all those windows staring at him? Not if he can help it. But he
+can get out by the bowling green, and then come to the pond without ever
+being in sight of the house, at all."
+
+"You're right. And that will just about give us time. Good. Now, what's
+the next thing?"
+
+"The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he drops
+whatever he drops."
+
+"So that we can fish it out again."
+
+"If we can see what it is, we shan't want to. The police can have a
+go at it to-morrow. But if it's something we can't identify from a
+distance, then we must try and get it out. To see whether it's worth
+telling the police about."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill, wrinkling his forehead. "Of course, the trouble with
+water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like the next bit. I don't
+know if that had occurred to you.
+
+"It had," smiled Antony. "Let's come and have a look at it."
+
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in silence,
+looking at the pond beneath them.
+
+"See anything?" said Antony at last.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The fence on the other side."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Well, it's rather useful, that's all."
+
+"Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically," added Bill. "A moment later, his
+friend Watson had hurled him into the pond."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love being Sherlocky," he said. "It's very unfair of you not to play
+up to me."
+
+"Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?" said Bill obediently.
+
+"Because you can take a bearing on it. You see--"
+
+"Yes, you needn't stop to explain to me what a bearing is."
+
+"I wasn't going to. But you're lying here," he looked up "underneath
+this pine-tree. Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his parcel
+in. You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it off on the
+fence there. Say it's the fifth post from the end. Well, then I take a
+line from my tree we'll find one for me directly and it comes on to
+the twentieth post, say. And where the two lines meet, there shall
+the eagles be gathered together. Q.E.D. And there, I almost forgot to
+remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving
+act. As performed nightly at the Hippodrome."
+
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+
+"I say, really? It's beastly dirty water, you know."
+
+"I'm afraid so, Bill. So it is written in the book of Jasher."
+
+"Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped, well, it's
+a warm night."
+
+"Just the night for a bathe," agreed Antony, getting up. "Well now,
+let's have a look for my tree."
+
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back. Bill's
+tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable, fifty feet
+nearer to heaven than its neighbours. But it had its fellow at the other
+end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps, but equally conspicuous.
+
+"That's where I shall be," said Antony, pointing to it. "Now, for the
+Lord's sake, count your posts accurately."
+
+"Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake," said Bill with
+feeling. "I don't want to spend the whole night diving."
+
+"Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and then
+count backwards to the beginning of the fence."
+
+"Right, old boy. Leave it to me. I can do this on my head."
+
+"Well, that's how you will have to do the last part of it," said Antony
+with a smile.
+
+He looked at his watch. It was nearly time to change for dinner. They
+started to walk back to the house together.
+
+"There's one thing which worries me rather," said Antony. "Where does
+Cayley sleep?"
+
+"Next door to me. Why?"
+
+"Well, it's just possible that he might have another look at you after
+he's come back from the pond. I don't think he'd bother about it in the
+ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your door, I think he might
+glance in."
+
+"I shan't be there. I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking up
+mud."
+
+"Yes.... Do you think you could leave something in your bed that looked
+vaguely like you in the dark? A bolster with a pyjama-coat round it, and
+one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or something for the
+head. You know the kind of thing. I think it would please him to feel
+that you were still sleeping peacefully."
+
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Rather. I'm awfully good at that. I'll make him up something really
+good. But what about you?"
+
+"I'm at the other end of the house; he's hardly likely to bother about
+me a second time. And I shall be so very fast asleep at his first visit.
+Still, I may as well to be on the safe side."
+
+They went into the house. Cayley was in the hall as they came in. He
+nodded, and took out his watch.
+
+"Time to change?" he said.
+
+"Just about," said Bill.
+
+"You didn't forget my letter?"
+
+"I did not. In fact, we had tea there."
+
+"Ah!" He looked away and said carelessly, "How were they all?"
+
+"They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and--and all that
+sort of thing."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing
+was coming, he turned round, said, "Come on, Tony," and led the way
+upstairs.
+
+"Got all you want?" he said at the top of the stairs.
+
+"I think so. Come and see me before you go down."
+
+"Righto."
+
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the window.
+He pushed open a casement and looked out. His bedroom was just over
+the door at the back of the house. The side wall of the office, which
+projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the house, was on his
+left. He could step out on to the top of the door, and from there drop
+easily to the ground. Getting back would be little more difficult. There
+was a convenient water-pipe which would help.
+
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in. "Final
+instructions?" he asked, sitting down on the bed. "By the way, how are
+we amusing ourselves after dinner? I mean immediately after dinner."
+
+"Billiards?"
+
+"Righto. Anything you like."
+
+"Don't talk too loud," said Antony in a lower voice. "We're more or less
+over the hall, and Cayley may be there." He led the way to the window.
+"We'll go out this way to-night. Going downstairs is too risky. It's
+easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes."
+
+"Right. I say, in case I don't get another chance alone with you what do
+I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?"
+
+"It's difficult to say. Be as natural as you can. I mean, if he just
+knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep. Don't overdo the snoring. But
+if he makes a hell of a noise, you'll have to wake up and rub your eyes,
+and wonder what on earth he's doing in your room at all. You know the
+sort of thing."
+
+"Right. And about the dummy figure. I'll make it up directly we come
+upstairs, and hide it under the bed."
+
+"Yes.... I think we'd better go completely to bed ourselves. We shan't
+take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to get safely
+into the passage. Then come into my room."
+
+"Right.... Are you ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They went downstairs together.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+
+
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night. After dinner was over, he
+suggested a stroll outside. They walked up and down the gravel in front
+of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill could
+stand it no longer. For the last twenty turns he had been slowing down
+hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint had always been
+lost on his companions, and each time another turn had been taken. But
+in the end he had been firm.
+
+"What about a little billiards?" he said, shaking himself free from the
+others.
+
+"Will you play?" said Antony to Cayley.
+
+"I'll watch you," he said, and he had watched them resolutely until the
+game, and then another game after that; had been played.
+
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+
+"Well, thank heaven for bed," said Bill; putting down his glass. "Are
+you coming?"
+
+"Yes," said Antony, and finished his drink. He looked at Cayley.
+
+"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley. "I shan't
+be long following you."
+
+"Well, good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs. "Good night,
+Tony."
+
+"Good night."
+
+Bill looked at his watch. Half-past eleven. Not much chance of anything
+happening for another hour. He pulled open a drawer and wondered what
+to wear on their expedition. Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and
+a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse
+for some time. And good idea a towel. He would want it later on, and
+meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.
+
+Tennis-shoes.... There Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy
+figure.
+
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed. Twelve-fifteen.
+How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and
+then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become
+accustomed to the new darkness.... He could only just make out the bed
+in the corner of the room. Cayley would want more light than that if
+he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied. He
+pulled the curtains a little way back. That was about right. He could
+have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in the bed.
+
+How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn't that he wanted his
+friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his
+business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were
+safely in their bedrooms. Cayley's business would make no noise, give
+no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as
+the household was really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure
+himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far
+enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he came up
+to reassure himself. So it amounted to the same thing, really. He would
+wait until they were asleep.... until they were asleep.... asleep....
+
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again. This would never do. It would be fatal if
+he went to sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep .... And then, in
+an instant, he was intensely awake. Suppose Cayley never came at all!
+
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his business.
+Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of
+his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony have taken
+such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley's place, he had said. But how was
+it possible? They weren't Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would
+never know what he had dropped into it.
+
+Listen!.... Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now.
+Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.... The door was
+opening. He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord, suppose
+Cayley really was a murderer! Why, even now he might be--no, he mustn't
+think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round.
+He mustn't turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why
+didn't the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his
+hand no, he mustn't think of that. He was asleep. But why didn't the
+door shut?
+
+The door was shutting. There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed,
+a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily. But it had a very
+natural sound a deep breath from a heavy sleeper. He added another one
+to it to make it seem more natural. The door was shut.
+
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up. As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark. He put the dummy
+figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just enough but not
+too much of it was showing, and stood by the door looking at it. For a
+casual glance the room was just about light enough. Then very quietly,
+very slowly he opened the door. All was still. There was no light from
+beneath the door of Cayley's room. Very quietly, very carefully he crept
+along the passage to Antony's room. He opened the door and went in.
+
+Antony was still in bed. Bill walked across to wake him up, and then
+stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs. There was
+somebody else in the room.
+
+"All right, Bill," said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out from
+the curtains.
+
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+
+"Rather good, isn't it?" said Antony, coming closer and pointing to the
+bed. "Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better."
+
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him. They
+reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across the lawn
+and so, over the fence, into the park. It was not until they were out of
+sight of the house that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+
+"I quite thought it was you in bed," he said.
+
+"I hoped you would. I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley doesn't
+call again. It's a pity to waste it."
+
+"He came all right just now?"
+
+"Oh, rather. What about you?"
+
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+
+"There wouldn't have been much point in his killing you," said Antony
+prosaically. "Besides being too risky."
+
+"Oh!" said Bill. And then, "I had rather hoped that it was his love for
+me which restrained him."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I doubt it.... You didn't turn up your light when you dressed?"
+
+"Good Lord, no. Did you want me to?"
+
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+
+"You're a splendid conspirator, Bill. You and I could take on anything
+together."
+
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight. The trees
+which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were mysteriously
+silent. It seemed that they had the world very much to themselves.
+
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+
+"There's your tree, there's mine. As long as you don't move, there's no
+chance of his seeing you. After he's gone, don't come out till I do. He
+won't be here for a quarter of an hour or so, so don't be impatient."
+
+"Righto," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+
+The minutes went by slowly. To Antony, lying hidden in the undergrowth
+at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting itself. Suppose
+Cayley had to make more than one journey that night? He might come back
+to find them in the boat; one of them, indeed, in the water. And if they
+decided to wait in hiding, on the chance of Cayley coming back again,
+what was the least time they could safely allow? Perhaps it would be
+better to go round to the front of the house and watch for his return
+there, the light in his bedroom, before conducting their experiments at
+the pond. But then they might miss his second visit in this way, if he
+made a second visit. It was difficult.
+
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and
+suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by the
+boat. In his hand was a small brown bag.
+
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using an
+oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off. Then, very silently, he rowed
+towards the middle of the pond.
+
+He had stopped. The oars rested on the water. He picked up the bag from
+between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and rested it lightly
+on the water for a moment. Then he let go. It sank slowly. He waited
+there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it might rise again. Antony began
+to count....
+
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place. He tied up the boat,
+looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him,
+and then turned to the water again. For a long time, as it seemed to the
+watchers, he stood there, very big, very silent, in the moonlight. At
+last he seemed satisfied. Whatever his secret was, he had hidden it; and
+so with a gentle sigh, as unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard it,
+Cayley turned away and vanished again as quietly as he had come.
+
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees. He waited
+there for Bill to join him.
+
+"Six," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I'm going round to the front of the house. You get back to your tree
+and watch, in case Cayley comes again. Your bedroom is the left-hand end
+one, and Cayley's the end but one? Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Right. Wait in hiding till I come back. I don't know how long I shall
+be, but don't be impatient. It will seem longer than it is." He patted
+Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod of the head he left him
+there.
+
+What was in the bag? What could Cayley want to hide other than a key or
+a revolver? Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need to put them
+in a bag first. What was in the bag? Something which wouldn't sink of
+itself; something which needed to be helped with stones before it would
+hide itself safely in the mud.
+
+Well, they would find that out. There was no object in worrying about
+it now. Bill had a dirty night's work in front of him. But where was the
+body which Antony had expected so confidently or, if there were no body,
+where was Mark?
+
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley? As quickly as he could
+Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying in the
+shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light to go up
+in Cayley's window. If it went up in Bill's window, then they were
+discovered. It would mean that Cayley had glanced into Bill's room, had
+been suspicious of the dummy figure in the bed, and had turned up the
+light to make sure. After that, it was war between them. But if it went
+up in Cayley's room--
+
+There was a light. Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement. It was in
+Bill's room. War!
+
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up, blowing
+the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest of the
+house. Bill had left his curtains undrawn. It was careless of him; the
+first stupid thing he had done, but--
+
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the
+bushes. There was another window beyond Cayley's, and there was no light
+in it. The declaration of war was postponed.
+
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed. After all it was only polite
+to return Cayley's own solicitude earlier in the night. Politeness
+demanded that one should not disport oneself on the pond until one's
+friends were comfortably tucked up.
+
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting. His chief fear was that he
+might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six." It was the sixth
+post. Six. He broke off a twig and divided it into six pieces. These
+he arranged on the ground in front of him. Six. He looked at the pond,
+counted up to the sixth post, and murmured "six" to himself again. Then
+he looked down at his twigs. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven. Seven!
+Was it seven? Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which
+had been on the ground anyhow? Surely it was six! Had he said "six"
+to Antony? If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right. Six.
+He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six together.
+Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket. Six. The height of a tall
+man--well, his own height. Six feet. Yes, that was the way to remember
+it. Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about the
+bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of the
+water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering, and
+saying, "Good Lord, what a life!" to himself, when Antony reappeared.
+
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+
+"Six," he said firmly. "Sixth post from the end."
+
+"Good," smiled Antony. "Mine was the eighteenth--a little way past it."
+
+"What did you go off for?"
+
+"To see Cayley into bed."
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes. Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall
+see it more easily. I'll put mine on the eighteenth. Are you going to
+undress here or in the boat?"
+
+"Some here, and some in the boat. You're quite sure that you wouldn't
+like to do the diving yourself?"
+
+"Quite, thanks."
+
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond. Coming to the sixth
+post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in position,
+and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off to mark the
+eighteenth post. When they were ready, they got into the boat, Antony
+taking the oars.
+
+"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two marks."
+
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+
+"You're about there now," said Bill at last.
+
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+
+"Yes, that's pretty well right." He turned the boat's nose round until
+it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain. "You see my
+tree and the other coat?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill.
+
+"Right. Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line until we're
+dead in between the two. Get it as exact as you can--for your own sake."
+
+"Steady!" said Bill warningly. "Back a little.... a little more .... a
+little more forward again.... Right." Antony left the oars on the water
+and looked around. As far as he could tell, they were in an exact line
+with each pair of landmarks.
+
+"Now then, Bill, in you go."
+
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+
+"You mustn't dive from the boat, old boy," said Antony hastily. "You'll
+shift its position. Slide in gently."
+
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+
+"What's it like?" said Antony.
+
+"Cold. Well, here's luck to it."
+
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was gone.
+Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his landmarks.
+
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion. "It's pretty muddy," he
+protested.
+
+"Weeds?"
+
+"No, thank the Lord."
+
+"Well, try again."
+
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared. Again Antony coaxed the boat
+back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in front of him.
+
+"I feel that if I threw you a sardine," said Antony, with a smile,
+"you'd catch it in your mouth quite prettily."
+
+"It's awfully easy to be funny from where you are. How much longer have
+I got to go on doing this?"
+
+Antony looked at his watch.
+
+"About three hours. We must get back before daylight. But be quicker if
+you can, because it's rather cold for me sitting here."
+
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again. He was
+under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on his face
+when it was visible again.
+
+"I've got it, but it's devilish hard to get up. I'm not sure that it
+isn't too heavy for me."
+
+"That's all right," said Antony. He brought out a ball of thick string
+from his pocket. "Get this through the handle if you can, and then we
+can both pull."
+
+"Good man." He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again. "Now then."
+
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat. Bill clambered in
+after it, and Antony rowed back. "Well done, Watson," he said quietly,
+as they landed. He fetched their two coats, and then waited, the bag in
+his hand, while Bill dried and dressed himself. As soon as the latter
+was ready, he took his arm and led him into the copse. He put the bag
+down and felt in his pockets.
+
+"I shall light a pipe before I open it," he said. "What about you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes. Bill's hand was a
+little unsteady. Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+
+"Ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed the
+catch and opened it.
+
+"Clothes!" said Bill.
+
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out. It was a wet brown
+flannel coat.
+
+"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
+
+"Mark's brown flannel suit."
+
+"The one he is advertised as having run away in?"
+
+"Yes. It looks like it. Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes."
+
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters. He
+considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+
+"I suppose I'd better read them," he said. "I mean, just to see--" He
+looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded. Antony turned on his torch and
+glanced at them. Bill waited anxiously.
+
+"Yes. Mark.... Hallo!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about. From Robert.
+'Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you--' Yes, I suppose I had
+better keep this. Well, that's his coat. Let's have out the rest of it."
+He took the remaining clothes from the bag and spread them out.
+
+"They're all here," said Bill. "Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes--yes, all of them."
+
+"All that he was wearing yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+
+"Is it what you expected?"
+
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+
+"It's too absurd," he said. "I expected--well, you know what I expected.
+A body. A body in a suit of clothes. Well, perhaps it would be safer
+to hide them separately. The body here, and the clothes in the passage,
+where they would never betray themselves. And now he takes a great deal
+of trouble to hide the clothes here, and doesn't bother about the body
+at all." He shook his head. "I'm a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and
+that's the fact."
+
+"Anything else there?"
+
+Antony felt in the bag.
+
+"Stones and--yes, there's something else." He took it out and held it
+up. "There we are, Bill."
+
+It was the office key.
+
+"By Jove, you were right."
+
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down on
+the grass. A dozen large stones fell out--and something else. He flashed
+down his torch.
+
+"Another key," he said.
+
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in
+silence, thinking. Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt his
+thoughts, but at last he said:
+
+"Shall I put these things back?"
+
+Antony looked up with a start.
+
+"What? Oh, yes. No, I'll put them back. You give me a light, will you?"
+
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag, pausing as
+he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed to Bill, that
+it had something to tell him if only he could read it. When the last of
+them was inside, he still waited there on his knees, thinking.
+
+"That's the lot," said Bill.
+
+Antony nodded at him.
+
+"Yes, that's the lot," he said; "and that's the funny thing about it.
+You're sure it is the lot?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Give me the torch a moment." He took it and flashed it over the ground
+between them. "Yes, that's the lot. It's funny." He stood up, the bag in
+his hands. "Now let's find a hiding-place for these, and then--" He said
+no more, but stepped off through the trees, Bill following him meekly.
+
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of the
+copse, Antony became more communicative. He took the two keys out of his
+pocket.
+
+"One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key of
+the passage cupboard. So I thought that perhaps we might have a look at
+the cupboard."
+
+"I say, do you really think it is?"
+
+"Well, I don't see what else it can be."
+
+"But why should he want to throw it away?"
+
+"Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to wash
+his hands of the passage. He'd throw the passage away if he could. I
+don't think it matters much one way or another, and I don't suppose
+there's anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel that we must look."
+
+"Do you still think Mark's body might be there?"
+
+"No. And yet where else can it be? Unless I'm hopelessly wrong, and
+Cayley never killed him at all."
+
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+
+"I know you'll think me an ass--"
+
+"My dear Bill, I'm such an obvious ass myself that I should be delighted
+to think you are too."
+
+"Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him to
+escape, just as we thought at first. I know you proved afterwards that
+it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a way we don't know about
+and for reasons we don't know about. I mean, there are such a lot of
+funny things about the whole show that--well, almost anything might have
+happened."
+
+"You're quite right. Well?"
+
+"Well, then, this clothes business. Doesn't that seem rather to bear out
+the escaping theory? Mark's brown suit was known to the police. Couldn't
+Cayley have brought him another one in the passage, to escape in, and
+then have had the brown one on his hands? And thought it safest to hide
+it in the pond?"
+
+"Yes," said Anthony thoughtfully. Then: "Go on."
+
+Bill went on eagerly:
+
+"It all seems to fit in, you know. I mean even with your first
+theory--that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley for
+help. Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he'd have told Mark that he
+had nothing to be afraid of. But he isn't playing fair; he wants to get
+Mark out of the way because of the girl. Well, this is his chance. He
+makes Mark as frightened as possible, and tells him that his only hope
+is to run away. Well, naturally, he does all he can to get him well
+away, because if Mark is caught, the whole story of Cayley's treachery
+comes out."
+
+"Yes. But isn't it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything? It wastes a good deal of time, you know."
+
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, "Oh!" in great disappointment.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that, Bill," said Antony with a smile. "I
+daresay the underclothes could be explained. But here's the difficulty.
+Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or whatever it was, when
+Cayley was the only person who saw him in brown?"
+
+"The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit."
+
+"Yes, because Cayley told the police. You see, even if Mark had had
+lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley could
+always have pretended that he had changed into blue after lunch, because
+only Cayley saw him afterwards. So if Cayley had told the Inspector that
+he was wearing blue, Mark could have escaped quite comfortably in his
+brown, without needing to change at all."
+
+"But that's just what he did do," cried Bill triumphantly. "What fools
+we are!"
+
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+
+"Yes, yes!" insisted Bill. "Of course! Don't you see? Mark did change
+after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting away, Cayley
+lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in which the servants
+had seen him. Well, then he was afraid that the police might examine
+Mark's clothes and find the brown suit still there, so he hid it, and
+then dropped it in the pond afterwards."
+
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing. Bill began to
+speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+
+"Don't say anything more, old boy; you've given me quite enough to think
+about. Don't let's bother about it to-night. We'll just have a look at
+this cupboard and then get to bed."
+
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night. It was empty save
+for a few old bottles.
+
+"Well, that's that," said Bill.
+
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to search
+for something.
+
+"What are you looking for?" asked Bill at last.
+
+"Something that isn't there," said Antony, getting up and dusting his
+trousers. And he locked the door again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. Guess-work
+
+
+The inquest was at three o'clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim
+on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o'clock his bag was packed,
+and waiting to be taken to 'the George.' To Bill, coming upstairs after
+a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little
+surprising.
+
+"What's the hurry?" he asked.
+
+"None. But we don't want to come back here after the inquest. Get your
+packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves."
+
+"Righto." He turned to go to his room, and then came back again. "I say,
+are we going to tell Cayley that we're staying at 'the George'?"
+
+"You're not staying at 'the George,' Bill. Not officially. You're going
+back to London."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes. Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for you
+when you catch a train there after the inquest. You can tell him that
+you've got to see the Bishop of London at once. The fact that you are
+hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it seem more natural
+that I should resume my interrupted solitude at 'the George' as soon as
+you have gone."
+
+"Then where do I sleep to-night?"
+
+"Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect, in
+my bed, unless they've got another spare room at 'the George.' I've put
+your confirmation robe--I mean your pyjamas and brushes and things--in
+my bag, ready for you. Is there anything else you want to know? No? Then
+go and pack. And meet me at ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in the
+hall or somewhere. I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my
+Watson."
+
+"Good," said Bill, and went off to his room.
+
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley, they
+wandered out together into the park.
+
+"Well?" said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree. "Talk
+away."
+
+"I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning," began Antony. "The
+brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and working at
+this thing from the wrong end altogether."
+
+"Well, that's helpful."
+
+"Of course it's very hampering being a detective, when you don't know
+anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you're doing
+detection, and you can't have people up to cross-examine them, and you
+have neither the energy nor the means to make proper inquiries; and,
+in short, when you're doing the whole thing in a thoroughly amateur,
+haphazard way."
+
+"For amateurs I don't think we're doing at all badly," protested Bill.
+
+"No; not for amateurs. But if we had been professionals, I believe we
+should have gone at it from the other end. The Robert end. We've been
+wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time. Now let's wonder about
+Robert for a bit."
+
+"We know so little about him."
+
+"Well, let's see what we do know. First of all, then, we know vaguely
+that he was a bad lot--the sort of brother who is hushed up in front of
+other people."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a rather
+unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then we know rather a curious thing. We know that Mark told you all
+that this black sheep was coming. Now, why did he tell you?"
+
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+
+"I suppose," he said slowly, "that he knew we were bound to see him, and
+thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him."
+
+"But were you bound to see him? You were all away playing golf."
+
+"We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night."
+
+"Very well, then. That's one thing we've discovered. Mark knew that
+Robert was staying in the house that night. Or shall we put it this
+way--he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert out of the house
+at once."
+
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+
+"Go on," he said. "This is getting interesting."
+
+"He also knew something else," went on Antony. "He knew that Robert was
+bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met him.
+He couldn't pass him off on you as just a travelled brother from the
+Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell you at once,
+because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a wastrel."
+
+"Yes. That's sound enough."
+
+"Well, now, doesn't it strike you that Mark made up his mind about all
+that rather quickly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"He got this letter at breakfast. He read it; and directly he had read
+it he began to confide in you all. That is to say, in about one second
+he thought out the whole business and came to a decision--to two
+decisions. He considered the possibility of getting Robert out of
+the way before you came back, and decided that it was impossible. He
+considered the possibility of Robert's behaving like an ordinary decent
+person in public, and decided that it was very unlikely. He came to
+those two decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter. Isn't
+that rather quick work?"
+
+"Well, what's the explanation?"
+
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+
+"What's the explanation? Well, let's leave it for a moment and take
+another look at the two brothers. In conjunction, this time, with Mrs.
+Norbury."
+
+"Mrs. Norbury?" said Bill, surprised.
+
+"Yes. Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury. Now, if Robert really was a blot
+upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two things. Either
+keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if it had to come out,
+tell them himself before the news came to them indirectly. Well, he told
+them. But the funny thing is that he told them the day before
+Robert's letter came. Robert came, and was killed, the day before
+yesterday--Tuesday. Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday. What do
+you make of that?"
+
+"Coincidence," said Bill, after careful thought. "He'd always meant
+to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was finally
+settled, he told her. That happened to be Monday. On Tuesday he got
+Robert's letter, and felt jolly glad that he'd told her in time."
+
+"Well, it might be that, but it's rather a curious coincidence. And here
+is something which makes it very curious indeed. It only occurred to
+me in the bath this morning. Inspiring place, a bathroom. Well, it's
+this--he told her on Monday morning, on his way to Middleston in the
+car."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well."
+
+"Sorry, Tony; I'm dense this morning."
+
+"In the car, Bill. And how near can the car get to Jallands?"
+
+"About six hundred yards."
+
+"Yes. And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark
+stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands, says,
+'Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don't think I ever told you that I
+have a shady brother called Robert,' walks six hundred yards up the hill
+again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston. Is that likely?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily.
+
+"Yes, but I don't see what you're getting at. Likely or not likely, we
+know he did do it."
+
+"Of course he did. All I mean is that he must have had some strong
+reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once. And the reason I suggest is
+that he knew on that morning--Monday morning, not Tuesday--that Robert
+was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+
+"But--but--"
+
+"And that would explain the other point--his instantaneous decision at
+breakfast to tell you all about his brother. It wasn't instantaneous. He
+knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided then that you would
+all have to know."
+
+"Then how do you explain the letter?"
+
+"Well, let's have a look at it."
+
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass
+between them.
+
+"Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way
+from Australia. I give you warning, so that you will be able to conceal
+your surprise but not I hope your pleasure. Expect him at three or
+thereabouts."
+
+"No date mentioned, you see," said Antony. "Just to-morrow."
+
+"But he got this on Tuesday."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday."
+
+"Oh, yes! he read it out to you."
+
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at the
+back of it. The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+
+"What about the postmark?" he asked.
+
+"We haven't got the envelope, unfortunately."
+
+"And you think that he got this letter on Monday."
+
+"I'm inclined to think so, Bill. Anyhow, I think--I feel almost
+certain--that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming."
+
+"Is that going to help us much?"
+
+"No. It makes it more difficult. There's something rather uncanny about
+it all. I don't understand it." He was silent for a little, and then
+added, "I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+
+"What about last night? I'm longing to hear what you make of that. Have
+you been thinking it out at all?"
+
+"Last night," said Antony thoughtfully to himself. "Yes, last night
+wants some explaining."
+
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain. What, for instance, had Antony
+been looking for in the cupboard?
+
+"I think," began Antony slowly, "that after last night we must give up
+the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley. I don't
+believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit of clothes
+when he had a body on his hands. The body would seem so much more
+important. I think we may take it now that the clothes are all that
+Cayley had to hide."
+
+"But why not have kept them in the passage?"
+
+"He was frightened of the passage. Miss Norris knew about it."
+
+"Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark's. For all you or I
+or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits. He probably had, I
+should think."
+
+"Probably. But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley. The brown suit
+hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden. We all
+know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most obvious, but in
+practice very few people have the nerve to risk it."
+
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+
+"Then we just come back to where we were," he complained. "Mark killed
+his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the passage; either
+in order to compromise him, or because there was no other way out of it.
+And he helped him by telling a lie about his brown suit."
+
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+
+"Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically. "There's only one murder,
+after all. I'm awfully sorry about it. It was my fault for--"
+
+"Shut up, you ass. You know I didn't mean that."
+
+"Well, you seemed awfully disappointed."
+
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh confessed.
+
+"It was so exciting yesterday," he said apologetically, "and we seemed
+to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful things, and
+now--"
+
+"And now?"
+
+"Well, it's so much more ordinary."
+
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+
+"Ordinary!" he cried. "Ordinary! Well, I'm dashed! Ordinary! If only
+one thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do something, but
+everything is ridiculous." Bill brightened up again.
+
+"Ridiculous? How?"
+
+"Every way. Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night. You can
+explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes. You can explain the
+underclothes in some absurd way, if you like--you can say that Mark
+always changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed anybody from
+Australia--but why, in that case, my dear Watson, why didn't he change
+his collar?"
+
+"His collar?" said Bill in amazement.
+
+"His collar, Watson."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"And it's all so ordinary," scoffed Antony.
+
+"Sorry, Tony, I didn't mean that. Tell me about the collar."
+
+"Well, that's all. There was no collar in the bag last night. Shirt,
+socks, tie--everything except a collar. Why?"
+
+"Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Of course. 'Why no collar?' I, said. For some reason Cayley considered
+it necessary to hide all Mark's clothes; not just the suit, but
+everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing, at the time
+of the murder. But he hadn't hidden the collar. Why? Had he left it out
+by mistake? So I looked in the cupboard. It wasn't there. Had he left it
+out on purpose? If so, why?--and where was it? Naturally I began to say
+to myself, 'Where have I seen a collar lately? A collar all by itself?'
+And I remembered--what, Bill?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+
+"Don't ask me, Tony. I can't--By Jove!" He threw up his head, "In the
+basket in the office bedroom!"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But is that the one?"
+
+"The one that goes with the rest of the clothes? I don't know. Where
+else can it be? But if so, why send the collar quite casually to the
+wash in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide everything
+else? Why, why, why?"
+
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+
+"Anyhow," said Antony, getting up restlessly, "I'm certain of one thing.
+Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. The Inquest
+
+
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the terrible
+nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate that afternoon,
+proceeded to outline the case to the jury. Witnesses would be called to
+identify the deceased as Robert Ablett, the brother of the owner of the
+Red House, Mark Ablett. It would be shown that he was something of a
+ne'er-do-well, who had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he
+had announced, in what might almost be called a threatening letter,
+his intention of visiting his brother that afternoon. There would
+be evidence of his arrival, of his being shown into the scene of the
+tragedy--a room in the Red House, commonly called "the office"--and of
+his brother's entrance into that room. The jury would have to form their
+own opinion as to what happened there. But whatever happened, happened
+almost instantaneously. Within two minutes of Mark Ablett's entrance, as
+would be shown in the evidence, a shot was heard, and when--perhaps five
+minutes later--the room was forced open, the dead body of Robert Ablett
+was found stretched upon the floor. As regards Mark Ablett, nobody had
+seen him from the moment of his going into the room, but evidence would
+be called to show that he had enough money on him at the time to take
+him to any other part of the country, and that a man answering to
+his description had been observed on the platform of Stanton station,
+apparently waiting to catch the 3.55 up train to London. As the jury
+would realize, such evidence of identity was not always reliable.
+Missing men had a way of being seen in a dozen different places at once.
+In any case, there was no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had
+disappeared.
+
+"Seems a sound man," whispered Antony to Bill. "Doesn't talk too much."
+
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence--he knew the
+facts of the case so well by now--but he wondered if Inspector Birch had
+developed any new theories. If so, they would appear in the Coroner's
+examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been coached by the
+police as to the important facts to be extracted from each witness. Bill
+was the first to be put through it.
+
+"Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?" he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over. "Did you see it at all?"
+
+"I didn't see the actual writing. I saw the back of it. Mark was holding
+it up when he told us about his brother."
+
+"You don't know what was in it, then?"
+
+Bill had a sudden shock. He had read the letter only that morning. He
+knew quite well what was in it. But it wouldn't do to admit this. And
+then, just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered: Antony had
+heard Cayley telling the Inspector.
+
+"I knew afterwards. I was told. But Mark didn't read it out at
+breakfast."
+
+"You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?"
+
+"Not frightened. Sort of bitter--and resigned. Sort of 'Oh, Lord, here
+we are again!'"
+
+There was a titter here and there. The Coroner smiled, and tried to
+pretend that he hadn't.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Beverley."
+
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and Antony
+looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+
+"He lives at the inner lodge," whispered Bill to him.
+
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his lodge at
+a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to him. He had seen
+the body and recognized it as the man.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"'Is this right for the Red House?' or something like that, sir."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said, 'This is the Red House. Who do you want to see?' He was a
+bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn't know what he was doing
+there."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, sir, he said, 'Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?' It doesn't sound
+much put like that, sir, but I didn't care about the way he said it.
+So I got in front of him like, and said, 'What do you want, eh?' and he
+gave a sort of chuckle and said, 'I want to see my dear brother Mark.'
+Well, then I took a closer look at him, and I see that p'raps he might
+be his brother, so I said, 'If you'll follow the drive, sir, you'll come
+to the house. Of course I can't say if Mr. Ablett's at home.' And he
+gave a sort of nasty laugh again, and said, 'Fine place Mister Mark
+Ablett's got here. Plenty of money to spend, eh?' Well, then I had
+another look at him, sir, because gentlemen don't talk like that, and
+if he was Mr. Ablett's brother--but before I could make up my mind, he
+laughed and went on. That's all I can tell you, sir."
+
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room, nor did
+Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos intended to
+remain there until the inquest was over.
+
+"Who's Amos talking to now?" he whispered to Bill.
+
+"Parsons. One of the gardeners. He's at the outside lodge on the Stanton
+road. They're all here to-day. Sort of holiday for 'em.
+
+"I wonder if he's giving evidence too," thought Antony. He was. He
+followed Amos. He had been at work on the lawn in front of the house,
+and had seen Robert Ablett arrive. He didn't hear the shot--not to
+notice. He was a little hard of hearing. He had seen a gentleman arrive
+about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+
+"Can you see him in court now?" asked the Coroner. Parsons looked round
+slowly. Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+
+"That's him," said Parsons, pointing.
+
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+
+"That was about five minutes afterwards?"
+
+"About that, sir."
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman's arrival?"
+
+"No, sir. That is to say I didn't see 'em."
+
+Stevens followed. She gave her evidence much as she had given it to the
+Inspector. Nothing new was brought out by her examination. Then came
+Elsie. As the reporters scribbled down what she had overheard, they
+added in brackets "Sensation" for the first time that afternoon.
+
+"How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?" asked the
+Coroner.
+
+"Almost at once, sir."
+
+"A minute?"
+
+"I couldn't really say, sir. It was so quick."
+
+"Were you still in the hall?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I was just outside Mrs. Stevens' room. The housekeeper,
+sir."
+
+"You didn't think of going back to the hall to see what had happened?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, 'Oh, what
+was that?' frightened-like. And I said, 'That was in the house, Mrs.
+Stevens, that was.' Just like something going off, it was."
+
+"Thank you," said the Coroner.
+
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went into
+the witness-box; not "Sensation" this time, but an eager and, as it
+seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest. Now they were getting to grips
+with the drama.
+
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally--the lies with the same
+slow deliberation as the truth. Antony watched him intently, wondering
+what it was about him which had this odd sort of attractiveness. For
+Antony, who knew that he was lying, and lying (as he believed) not for
+Mark's sake but his own, yet could not help sharing some of that general
+sympathy with him.
+
+"Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"Not to my knowledge. I think I should have known if he had been."
+
+"You were alone with him all that morning. Did he talk about this visit
+of Robert's at all?"
+
+"I didn't see very much of him in the morning. I was at work in my room,
+and outside, and so on. We lunched together and he talked of it then a
+little."
+
+"In what terms?"
+
+"Well--" he hesitated, and then went on. "I can't think of a better word
+than 'peevishly.' Occasionally he said, 'What do you think he wants?' or
+'Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?' or 'I don't like the tone
+of his letter. Do you think he means trouble?' He talked rather in that
+kind of way."
+
+"Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in England?"
+
+"I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day."
+
+"Yes.... You didn't hear any conversation between the brothers when they
+were in the office together?"
+
+"No. I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone in, and
+I was there all the time."
+
+"Was the library door open?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Did you see or hear the last witness at all?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?"
+
+"I think so. Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose."
+
+"Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?"
+
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+
+"Hasty-tempered, yes," he said. "But not violent-tempered."
+
+"Was he fairly athletic? Active and quick?"
+
+"Active and quick, yes. Not particularly strong."
+
+"Yes.... One question more. Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?"
+
+"Yes. He always had one 100 pound note on him, and perhaps ten or twenty
+pounds as well."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Cayley."
+
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat. "Damn it," said Antony to himself,
+"why do I like the fellow?"
+
+"Antony Gillingham!"
+
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt. Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+
+He explained how he came to be staying at 'the George' at Waldheim, how
+he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how he had
+walked over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just after the
+tragedy. Thinking it over afterwards he was fairly certain that he had
+heard the shot, but it had not made any impression on him at the time.
+He had come to the house from the Waldheim end and consequently had seen
+nothing of Robert Ablett, who had been a few minutes in front of him.
+From this point his evidence coincided with Cayley's.
+
+"You and the last witness reached the French windows together and found
+them shut?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You pushed them in and came to the body. Of course you had no idea
+whose body it was?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did Mr. Cayley say anything?"
+
+"He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he saw
+it, he said, 'Thank God.'"
+
+Again the reporters wrote "Sensation."
+
+"Did you understand what he meant by that?"
+
+"I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett. Then
+he explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with whom he
+lived--Mark."
+
+"Yes. Did he seem upset?"
+
+"Very much so at first. Less when he found that it wasn't Mark."
+
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at the
+back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared sternly
+in the direction from which it came. The nervous gentleman hastily
+decided that the time had come to do up his bootlace. The Coroner put
+down his glasses and continued.
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the drive?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+He was followed by Inspector Birch. The Inspector, realizing that
+this was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon
+him, produced a plan of the house and explained the situation of the
+different rooms. The plan was then handed to the jury.
+
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House
+at 4.42 p.m. on the afternoon in question. He had been received by Mr.
+Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to him, and he had then
+proceeded to examine the scene of the crime. The French windows had been
+forced from outside. The door leading into the hall was locked; he had
+searched the room thoroughly and had found no trace of a key. In the
+bedroom leading out of the office he had found an open window. There
+were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and, as he found
+from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching it with the
+boots. A few yards outside the window a shrubbery began. There were no
+recent footmarks outside the window, but the ground was in a very hard
+condition owing to the absence of rain. In the shrubbery, however, he
+found several twigs on the ground, recently broken off, together with
+other evidence that some body had been forcing its way through. He had
+questioned everybody connected with the estate, and none of them had
+been into the shrubbery recently. By forcing a way through the shrubbery
+it was possible for a person to make a detour of the house and get to
+the Stanton end of the park without ever being in sight of the house
+itself.
+
+He had made inquiries about the deceased. Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble at
+home. Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from which he and
+his brother had come. Deceased and his brother had never been on good
+terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come into money had been a
+cause of great bitterness between them. It was shortly after this that
+Robert had left for Australia.
+
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station. It had been market-day at
+Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than usual.
+Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert Ablett; there had
+been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train that afternoon, the train
+by which Robert had undoubtedly come from London. A witness, however,
+would state that he noticed a man resembling Mark Ablett at the station
+at 3.53 p.m. that afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to
+town.
+
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House. He had dragged this,
+but without result....
+
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all the
+time. Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be got from
+that. He felt so close to the truth; at any moment something might give
+his brain the one little hint which it wanted. Inspector Birch was just
+pursuing the ordinary. Whatever else this case was, it was not ordinary.
+There was something uncanny about it.
+
+John Borden was giving evidence. He was on the up platform seeing a
+friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon. He had noticed a man on the
+platform with coat collar turned up and a scarf round his chin. He had
+wondered why the man should do this on such a hot day. The man seemed to
+be trying to escape observation. Directly the train came in, he hurried
+into a carriage. And so on.
+
+"There's always a John Borden at every murder case," said Antony to
+himself.
+
+"Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?"
+
+"Once or twice, sir."
+
+"Was it he?"
+
+"I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar turned
+up and the scarf and all. But directly I heard of the sad affair, and
+that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden, 'Now I wonder if
+that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?' So then we talked it over and
+decided that I ought to come and tell Inspector Birch. It was just Mr.
+Ablett's height, sir."
+
+Antony went on with his thoughts....
+
+The Coroner was summing up. The jury, he said, had now heard all the
+evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that room between
+the two brothers. How had the deceased met his death? The medical
+evidence would probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett had died from
+the effects of a bullet-wound in the head. Who had fired that bullet?
+If Robert Ablett had fired it himself, no doubt they would bring in
+a verdict of suicide, but if this had been so, where was the revolver
+which had fired it, and what had become of Mark Ablett? If they
+disbelieved in this possibility of suicide, what remained? Accidental
+death, justifiable homicide, and murder. Could the deceased have been
+killed accidentally? It was possible, but then would Mark Ablett have
+run away? The evidence that he had run away from the scene of the crime
+was strong. His cousin had seen him go into the room, the servant Elsie
+Wood had heard him quarrelling with his brother in the room, the door
+had been locked from the inside, and there were signs that outside
+the open window some one had pushed his way very recently through the
+shrubbery. Who, if not Mark? They would have then to consider whether he
+would have run away if he had been guiltless of his brother's death. No
+doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes. It was possible that
+if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had shot his brother, it
+might also be proved that he was justified in so doing, and that when he
+ran away from his brother's corpse he had really nothing to fear at the
+hands of the Law. In this connection he need hardly remind the jury that
+they were not the final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett
+guilty of murder it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when
+he was apprehended.... The jury could consider their verdict.
+
+They considered it. They announced that the deceased had died as the
+result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired by his
+brother Mark Ablett.
+
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side. But Antony was gone. Across the
+room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the door together, and
+Antony was between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+
+
+The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton Robert
+Ablett was to be buried next day. Bill waited about outside for his
+friend, wondering where he had gone. Then, realizing that Cayley would
+be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell talk with Cayley
+would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at
+the back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
+weather-beaten poster on the stable wall. "GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER" it
+announced, to take place on "Wednesday, Decem." Bill smiled to himself
+as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a loquacious postman, had
+been played by "William B. Beverl," as the remnants of the poster still
+maintained, and he had been much less loquacious than the author had
+intended, having forgotten his words completely, but it had all been
+great fun. And then he stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun
+now at the Red House.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him. "My
+old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."
+
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled happily at
+him.
+
+"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little resentfully. "I
+couldn't think where on earth you had got to."
+
+Antony didn't say anything. He was staring at the poster.
+
+"When did this happen?" he asked.
+
+"What?"
+
+Antony waved to the poster.
+
+"Oh, that? Last Christmas. It was rather fun."
+
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+
+"Were you good?"
+
+"Rotten. I don't profess to be an actor."
+
+"Mark good?"
+
+"Oh, rather. He loves it."
+
+"Rev. Henry Stutters--Mr. Matthew Cay," read Antony.
+
+"Was that our friend Cayley?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Any good?"
+
+"Well, much better than I expected. He wasn't keen, but Mark made him."
+
+"Miss Norris wasn't playing, I see."
+
+"My dear Tony, she's a professional. Of course she wasn't."
+
+Antony laughed again.
+
+"A great success, was it?"
+
+"Oh, rather!"
+
+"I'm a fool, and a damned fool," Antony announced solemnly. "And a
+damned fool," he said again under his breath, as he led Bill away from
+the poster, and out of the yard into the road. "And a damned fool. Even
+now--" He broke off and then asked suddenly, "Did Mark ever have much
+trouble with his teeth?"
+
+"He went to his dentist a good deal. But what on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed a third time.
+
+"What luck!" he chuckled. "But how do you know?"
+
+"We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me. Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street."
+
+"Cartwright in Wimpole Street," repeated Antony thoughtfully. "Yes, I
+can remember that. Cartwright in Wimpole Street. Did Cayley go to him
+too, by any chance?"
+
+"I expect so. Oh, yes, I know he did. But what on earth--"
+
+"What was Mark's general health like? Did he see a doctor much?"
+
+"Hardly at all, I should think. He did a lot of early morning exercises
+which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at breakfast. They
+didn't do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty fit. Tony, I wish
+you'd--"
+
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+
+"One last question," he said. "Was Mark fond of swimming?"
+
+"No, he hated it. I don't believe he could swim. Tony, are you mad, or
+am I? Or is this a new game?"
+
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+
+"Dear old Bill," he said. "It's a game. What a game! And the answer is
+Cartwright in Wimpole Street."
+
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to Waldheim.
+Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to talk, but Antony had
+only grunted in reply. He was just going to make another attempt, when
+Antony came to a sudden stop and turned to him anxiously.
+
+"I wonder if you'd do something for me," he said, looking at him with
+some doubt.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it's really dashed important. It's just the one thing I want
+now."
+
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+
+"I say, have you really found it all out?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"At least, I'm very nearly there, Bill. There's just this one thing I
+want now. It means your going back to Stanton. Well, we haven't come
+far; it won't take you long. Do you mind?"
+
+"My dear Holmes, I am at your service."
+
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+
+"Is there another inn at Stanton--fairly close to the station?"
+
+"The 'Plough and Horses'--just at the corner where the road goes up to
+the station--is that the one you mean?"
+
+"That would be the one. I suppose you could do with a drink, couldn't
+you?"
+
+"Rather!" said Bill, with a grin.
+
+"Good. Then have one at the 'Plough and Horses.' Have two, if you like,
+and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you. I want you
+to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night."
+
+"Robert?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"I didn't say Robert," said Antony, smiling. "I just want you to find
+out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night. A stranger.
+If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without letting the
+landlord know that you are interested--"
+
+"Leave it to me," broke in Bill. "I know just what you want."
+
+"Don't assume that it was Robert--or anybody else. Let them describe the
+man to you. Don't influence them unconsciously by suggesting that he was
+short or tall, or anything of that sort. Just get them talking. If it's
+the landlord, you'd better stand him a drink or two."
+
+"Right you are," said Bill confidently. "Where do I meet you again?"
+
+"Probably at 'the George.' If you get there before me, you can order
+dinner for eight o'clock. Anyhow we'll meet at eight, if not before."
+
+"Good." He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm. Then he
+looked round slowly, as if in search of something. Suddenly he saw what
+he wanted. Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off to the left, and
+there was a gate a little way up on the right-hand side of it. Antony
+walked to the gate, filling his pipe as he went. Then he lit his pipe,
+sat on the gate, and took his head in his hands.
+
+"Now then," he said to himself, "let's begin at the beginning."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at 'the George,' to find Antony,
+cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting for him.
+
+"Is dinner ready?" were Bill's first words.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I'll just have a wash. Lord, I'm tired."
+
+"I never ought to have asked you," said Antony penitently.
+
+"That's all right. I shan't be a moment." Half-way up the stairs he
+turned round and asked, "Am I in your room?"
+
+"Yes. Do you know the way?"
+
+"Yes. Start carving, will you? And order lots of beer." He disappeared
+round the top of the staircase. Antony went slowly in.
+
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able to
+spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account of his
+adventures. The landlord of the "Plough and Horses" had been sticky,
+decidedly sticky--Bill had been unable at first to get anything out of
+him. But Bill had been tactful; lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+
+"He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been, and
+so on, and how there'd been an inquest in his wife's family once,
+which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, 'Pretty busy, I
+suppose, just now, what?' and then he'd say, 'Middlin',' and go on again
+about Susan--that was the one that had the inquest--he talked about it
+as if it were a disease--and then I'd try again, and say, 'Slack times,
+I expect, just now, eh?' and he'd say 'Middlin' again, and then it was
+time to offer him another drink, and I didn't seem to be getting much
+nearer. But I got him at last. I asked him if he knew John Borden--he
+was the man who said he'd seen Mark at the station. Well, he knew all
+about Borden, and after he'd told me all about Borden's wife's family,
+and how one of them had been burnt to death--after you with the beer;
+thanks--well, then I said carelessly that it must be very hard to
+remember anybody whom you had just seen once, so as to identify him
+afterwards, and he agreed that it would be 'middlin' hard,' and then--"
+
+"Give me three guesses," interrupted Antony. "You asked him if he
+remembered everybody who came to his inn?"
+
+"That's it. Bright, wasn't it?"
+
+"Brilliant. And what was the result?"
+
+"The result was a woman."
+
+"A woman?" said Antony eagerly.
+
+"A woman," said Bill impressively. "Of course I thought it was going to
+be Robert--so did you, didn't you?--but it wasn't. It was a woman. Came
+quite late on Monday night in a car--driving herself--went off early
+next morning."
+
+"Did he describe her?"
+
+"Yes. She was middlin'. Middlin' tall, middlin' age, middlin' colour,
+and so on. Doesn't help much, does it? But still--a woman. Does that
+upset your theory?"
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, Bill, not at all," he said.
+
+"You knew all the time? At least, you guessed?"
+
+"Wait till to-morrow. I'll tell you everything to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing to-night, if you'll promise not to ask
+any more questions. But you probably know it already."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother."
+
+"And Cayley did?"
+
+"That's another question, Bill. However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn't, either."
+
+"Then who on earth--"
+
+"Have some more beer," said Antony with a smile. And Bill had to be
+content with that.
+
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired. Bill
+slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering. What was
+happening at the Red House now? Perhaps he would hear in the morning;
+perhaps he would get a letter. He went over the whole story again from
+the beginning--was there any possibility of a mistake? What would the
+police do? Would they ever find out? Ought he to have told them? Well,
+let them find out; it was their job. Surely he couldn't have made a
+mistake this time. No good wondering now; he would know definitely in
+the morning.
+
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. Cayley's Apology
+
+"My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+
+"I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries which
+you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and that in this
+case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably follow. Why,
+in these circumstances, you should give me such ample warning of your
+intentions I do not understand, unless it is that you are not wholly out
+of sympathy with me. But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you
+will want to know--and I want you to know--the exact manner in which
+Ablett met his death and the reasons which made that death necessary. If
+the police have to be told anything, I would rather that they too knew
+the whole story. They, and even you, may call it murder, but by that
+time I shall be out of the way. Let them call it what they like.
+
+"I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago, when
+I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five. His
+whole life was make-believe, and just now he was pretending to be a
+philanthropist. He sat in our little drawing-room, flicking his gloves
+against the back of his left hand, and my mother, good soul, thought
+what a noble young gentleman he was, and Philip and I, hastily washed
+and crammed into collars, stood in front of him, nudging each other and
+kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our hearts for having
+interrupted our game. He had decided to adopt one of us, kind Cousin
+Mark. Heaven knows why he chose me. Philip was eleven; two years longer
+to wait. Perhaps that was why.
+
+"Well, Mark educated me. I went to a public school and to Cambridge,
+and I became his secretary. Well, much more than his secretary as your
+friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land agent, his financial
+adviser, his courier, his--but this most of all--his audience. Mark
+could never live alone. There must always be somebody to listen to him.
+I think in his heart he hoped I should be his Boswell. He told me one
+day that he had made me his literary executor--poor devil. And he used
+to write me the absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters
+which I read once and then tore up. The futility of the man!
+
+"It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble. He had been
+hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office, and
+discovered there that there was not much fun to be got in this world on
+two pounds a week. I had a frantic letter from him one day, saying that
+he must have a hundred at once, or he would be ruined, and I went to
+Mark for the money. Only to borrow it, you understand; he gave me a good
+salary and I could have paid it back in three months. But no. He saw
+nothing for himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no admiration.
+Philip's gratitude would be to me, not to him. I begged, I threatened,
+we argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested. It killed
+my mother--he was always her favourite--but Mark, as usual, got his
+satisfaction out of it. He preened himself on his judgment of character
+in having chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+
+"Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said
+to him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his
+accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each other,
+from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him see it, I
+was his bitterest enemy. If that had been all, I wonder if I should have
+killed him? To live on terms of intimate friendship with a man whom you
+hate is dangerous work for your friend. Because of his belief in me
+as his admiring and grateful protege and his belief in himself as my
+benefactor, he was now utterly in my power. I could take my time and
+choose my opportunity. Perhaps I should not have killed him, but I had
+sworn to have my revenge--and there he was, poor vain fool, at my mercy.
+I was in no hurry.
+
+"Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge was
+being taken out of my hands. Mark began to drink. Could I have stopped
+him? I don't think so, but to my immense surprise I found myself trying
+to. Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason; or did I reason it
+out and tell myself that, if he drank himself to death, I should lose
+my revenge? Upon my word, I cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive, I
+did genuinely want to stop it. Drinking is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+
+"I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret. Yes, I kept him outwardly decent;
+and perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim in
+good condition for his own ends. I used to gloat over Mark, thinking how
+utterly he was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially, morally, whatever
+way would give me most satisfaction. I had but to take my hand away from
+him and he sank. But again I was in no hurry.
+
+"Then he killed himself. That futile little drunkard, eaten up with his
+own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the truest and
+purest woman on this earth. You have seen her, Mr. Gillingham, but you
+never knew Mark Ablett. Even if he had not been a drunkard, there was
+no chance for her of happiness with him. I had known him for many years,
+but never once had I seen him moved by any generous emotion. To have
+lived with that shrivelled little soul would have been hell for her; and
+a thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.
+
+"So he had to be killed. I was the only one left to protect her, for
+her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin. I would have
+shot him openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but I had no mind
+to sacrifice myself needlessly. He was in my power; I could persuade him
+to almost anything by flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give
+his death the appearance of an accident.
+
+"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I made
+and rejected. For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate boating
+accident in the pond--Mark, a very indifferent swimmer, myself almost
+exhausted in a gallant attempt to hold him up. And then he himself gave
+me the idea, he and Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in
+my hands; without risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not
+discovered me.
+
+"We were talking about ghosts. Mark had been even more vain, pompous and
+absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was irritated by it.
+After dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost and frightening him.
+I thought it my duty to warn her that Mark took any joke against
+himself badly, but she was determined to do it. I gave way reluctantly.
+Reluctantly, also, I told her the secret of the passage. (There is an
+underground passage from the library to the bowling-green. You should
+exercise your ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to discover it. Mark
+came upon it by accident a year ago. It was a godsend to him; he could
+drink there in greater secrecy. But he had to tell me about it. He
+wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+
+"I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that
+Mark should be thoroughly frightened. Without the passage she could
+never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him properly,
+but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective appearance,
+and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness which I
+required. Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional actress. I need
+not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling than a
+boyish desire to bring off a good joke--a joke directed as much against
+the others as against Mark.
+
+"He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation. Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I was
+to make a special note of it; never again. It was outrageous. Had he not
+a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off next morning.
+As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it; but never again
+would she come to the Red House--he was absolutely determined about
+that. I was to make a special note of it.
+
+"I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers. She had behaved
+very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show how much he
+disapproved of her. And of course she would never come again--that
+was obvious. And then suddenly I began to laugh. He looked up at me
+indignantly.
+
+"'Is there a joke?" he said coldly.
+
+"I laughed gently again.
+
+"'I was just thinking,' I said, 'that it would be rather amusing if
+you--well, had your revenge."
+
+"'My revenge? How do you mean?'
+
+"'Well, paid her back in her own coin.'
+
+"'Do you mean try and frighten her?'
+
+"'No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit. Made her look a fool
+in front of the others.' I laughed to myself again. 'Serve her jolly
+well right.'
+
+"He jumped up excitedly.
+
+"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried. 'If I could! How? You must think of a way.
+
+"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting. He was an
+amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as an actor
+he seemed to himself most wonderful. Certainly he had some ability for
+the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and was playing to an
+admiring audience. As a professional actor in a small part he would have
+been hopeless; as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all
+that the local papers had ever said about him. And so the idea of giving
+us a private performance, directed against a professional actress who
+had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for
+retaliation. If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth
+Norris look a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then
+join in the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy
+revenge!
+
+"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham? Ah, you never knew Mark
+Ablett.
+
+"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.
+
+"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested. 'It was just an
+idea.'
+
+"He began to think it out for himself.
+
+"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her--but I suppose
+she knows them all. What about an interviewer?'
+
+"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully. 'You've got rather a
+characteristic face, you know. And your beard--'
+
+"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.
+
+"'My dear Mark!'
+
+"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it off,
+anyhow. And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm going to do it
+properly.'
+
+"'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him admiringly.
+
+"He purred. To be called an artist was what he longed for most. Now I
+knew that I had him.
+
+"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and moustache you
+might be recognizable. Unless, of course--' I broke off.
+
+"'Unless what?'
+
+"'You pretend to be Robert.' I began to laugh to myself again. 'By
+Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea. Pretend to be Robert, the wastrel
+brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris. Borrow money
+from her, and that sort of thing.'
+
+"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+
+"'Robert,' he said. 'Yes. How shall we work it?'
+
+"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you
+and the Inspector both discovered. And he was a wastrel and he went to
+Australia. But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday afternoon. He
+couldn't have, because he died (unlamented) three years ago. But there
+was nobody who knew this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only
+one of the family left, his sister having died last year. Though I
+doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was alive or dead. He was not
+talked about.
+
+"For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans. You understand
+by now that our aims were not identical. Mark's endeavour was that his
+deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine that it should
+go to the grave with him. He had only to deceive Miss Norris and the
+other guests; I had to deceive the world. When he was dressed up as
+Robert, I was going to kill him. Robert would then be dead, Mark (of
+course) missing. What could anybody think but that Mark had killed
+Robert? But you see how important it was for Mark to enter fully into
+his latest (and last) impersonation. Half-measures would be fatal.
+
+"You will say that it was impossible so do the thing thoroughly enough.
+I answer again that you never knew Mark. He was being what he wished
+most to be--an artist. No Othello ever blacked himself all over with
+such enthusiasm as did Mark. His beard was going anyhow--possible a
+chance remark of Miss Norbury's helped here. She did not like beards.
+But it was important for me that the dead man's hands should not be the
+hands of a manicured gentleman. Five minutes playing upon the vanity of
+the artist settled his hands. He let the nails grow and then cut them
+raggedly. 'Miss Norris would notice your hands at once,' I had said.
+'Besides, as an artist--'
+
+"So with his underclothes. It was hardly necessary to warn him that
+his pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he had
+already decided upon Robertian pants. I bought them, and other things,
+in London for him. Even if I had not cut out all trace of the maker's
+name, he would instinctively have done it. As an Australian and an
+artist, he could not have an East London address on his underclothes.
+Yes, we were doing the thing thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I
+as a--well, you may say murderer, if you like. I shall not mind now.
+
+"Our plans were settled. I went to London on the Monday and wrote him
+a letter from Robert. (The artistic touch again.) I also bought a
+revolver. On the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival of Robert
+at the breakfast-table. Robert was now alive--we had six witnesses to
+prove it; six witnesses who knew that he was coming that afternoon. Our
+private plan was that Robert should present himself at three o'clock,
+in readiness for the return of the golfing-party shortly afterwards. The
+maid would go to look for Mark, and having failed to find him, come back
+to the office to find me entertaining Robert in Mark's absence. I
+would explain that Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would myself
+introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table. Mark's absence would not
+excite any comment, for it would be generally felt--indeed Robert would
+suggest it--that he had been afraid of meeting his brother. Then Robert
+would make himself amusingly offensive to the guests, particularly, of
+course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke had gone far enough.
+
+"That was our private plan. Perhaps I should say that it was Mark's
+private plan. My own was different.
+
+"The announcement at breakfast went well. After the golfing-party had
+gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our arrangements. What
+I was chiefly concerned about was to establish as completely as possible
+the identity of Robert. For this reason I suggested to Mark that, when
+dressed, he should go out by the secret passage to the bowling-green,
+and come back by the drive, taking care to enter into conversation
+with the lodge-keeper. In this way I would have two more witnesses
+of Robert's arrival--first the lodge-keeper, and secondly one of the
+gardeners whom I would have working on the front lawn. Mark, of course,
+was willing enough. He could practise his Australian accent on the
+lodge-keeper. It was really amusing to see how readily he fell into
+every suggestion which I made. Never was a killing more carefully
+planned by its victim.
+
+"He changed into Robert's clothes in the office bedroom. This was the
+safest way--for both of us. When he was ready, he called me in, and
+I inspected him. It was extraordinary how well he looked the part. I
+suppose that the signs of his dissipation had already marked themselves
+on, his face, but had been concealed hitherto by his moustache and
+beard; for now that he was clean-shaven they lay open to the world from
+which we had so carefully hidden them, and he was indeed the wastrel
+which he was pretending to be.
+
+"'By Jove, you're wonderful,' I said.
+
+"He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+
+"'Wonderful,' I said to myself again. 'Nobody could possibly guess.'
+
+"I peered into the hall. It was empty. We hurried across to the library;
+he got into the passage and made off. I went back to the bedroom,
+collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in a bundle and
+returned with them to the passage. Then I sat down in the hall and
+waited.
+
+"You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid. As soon as she was on her
+way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the office. My hand
+was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the revolver.
+
+"He began at once in his character of Robert--some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private performance
+for my edification. Then in his natural voice, gloating over his
+well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, 'It's my turn
+now. You wait.' It was this which Elsie heard. She had no business to be
+there and she might have ruined everything, but as it turned out it was
+the luckiest thing which could have happened. For it was the one piece
+of evidence which I wanted; evidence, other than my own, that Mark and
+Robert were in the room together.
+
+"I said nothing. I was not going to take the risk of being heard to
+speak in that room. I just smiled at the poor little fool, and took
+out my revolver, and shot him. Then I went back into the library and
+waited--just as I said in my evidence.
+
+"Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden appearance
+gave me? Can you imagine the feelings of a 'murderer' who has (as he
+thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then confronted suddenly
+with an utterly new problem? What difference would your coming make? I
+didn't know. Perhaps none; perhaps all. And I had forgotten to open the
+window!
+
+"I don't know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a clever
+one. Perhaps not. But if I do deserve any praise in the matter, I think
+I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together in the face of the
+unexpected catastrophe of your arrival. Yes, I got a window open, Mr.
+Gillingham, under your very nose; the right window too, you were kind
+enough to say. And the keys--yes, that was clever of you, but I think I
+was cleverer. I deceived you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I
+learnt when I took the liberty of listening to a conversation on the
+bowling-green between you and your friend Beverley. Where was I? Ah, you
+must have a look for that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"But what am I saying? Did I deceive you at all? You have found out the
+secret--that Robert was Mark--and that is all that matters. How have
+you found out? I shall never know now. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps you
+have been deceiving me all the time. Perhaps you knew about the keys,
+about the window, even about the secret passage. You are a clever man,
+Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"I had Mark's clothes on my hands. I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out. Miss Norris knew
+it. That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss Norris had
+to know it. So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector having obligingly
+dragged it for me first. A couple of keys joined them, but I kept the
+revolver. Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr. Gillingham?
+
+"I don't think that there is any more to tell you. This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write. There was a time
+when I hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not at the Red
+House, not alone. Perhaps it was never more than an idle day-dream,
+for I am no more worthy of her than Mark was. But I could have made her
+happy, Mr. Gillingham. God, how I would have worked to make her happy!
+But now that is impossible. To offer her the hand of a murderer would be
+as bad as to offer her the hand of a drunkard. And Mark died for that.
+I saw her this morning. She was very sweet. It is a difficult world to
+understand.
+
+"Well, well, we are all gone now--the Abletts and the Cayleys. I wonder
+what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all. Perhaps it is as well that
+we have died out. Not that there was anything wrong with Sarah--except
+her temper. And she had the Ablett nose--you can't do much with that.
+I'm glad she left no children.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham. I'm sorry that your stay with us was not of
+a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in which I was
+placed. Don't let Bill think too badly of me. He is a good fellow; look
+after him. He will be surprised. The young are always surprised. And
+thank you for letting me end my own way. I expect you did sympathize a
+little, you know. We might have been friends in another world--you and
+I, and I and she. Tell her what you like. Everything or nothing. You
+will know what is best. Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+
+"I am lonely to-night without Mark. That's funny, isn't it?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+
+"I thought you'd say that," murmured Antony.
+
+"Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?"
+
+"I guessed some of it. I didn't quite know all of it, of course."
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill again, and returned to the letter. In a moment he
+was looking up again. "What did you write to him? Was that last night?
+After I'd gone into Stanton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you say? That you'd discovered that Mark was Robert?"
+
+"Yes. At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph to
+Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to--"
+
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence. "Yes, now what was all
+that about? You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a sudden. We'd
+been doing the thing together all the time, and you'd been telling me
+everything, and then suddenly you become very mysterious and private and
+talk enigmatically--is that the word?--about dentists and swimming and
+the 'Plough and Horses,' and--well, what was it all about? You simply
+vanished out of sight; I didn't know what on earth we were talking
+about."
+
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+
+"Sorry, Bill. I felt like that suddenly. Just for the last half-hour;
+just to end up with. I'll tell you everything now. Not that there's
+anything to tell, really. It seems so easy when you know it--so obvious.
+About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street. Of course he was just to
+identify the body."
+
+"But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?"
+
+"Who could do it better? Could you have done it? How could you? You'd
+never gone bathing with Mark; you'd never seen him stripped. He didn't
+swim. Could his doctor do it? Not unless he'd had some particular
+operation, and perhaps not then. But his dentists could--at any time,
+always--if he had been to his dentist fairly often. Hence Mr. Cartwright
+of Wimpole Street."
+
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+
+"I see. And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright to
+identify the body?"
+
+"Yes. And then of course it was all up for him. Once we knew that Robert
+was Mark we knew everything."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can say, Bill. You know those problems in Algebra
+where you say, 'Let x be the answer,' and then you work it out and find
+what x is. Well, that's one way; and another way, which they never give
+you any marks for at school, is to guess the answer. Pretend the answer
+is 4--well, will that satisfy the conditions of the problem? No. Then
+try 6; and if 6 doesn't either, then what about 5?--and so on. Well, the
+Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had guessed their answer, and
+it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn't really fit; there were
+several conditions in the problem which it didn't fit at all. So we knew
+that their answer was wrong, and we had to think of another--an answer
+which explained all the things which were puzzling us. Well, I happened
+to guess the right one. Got a match?"
+
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+
+"Yes, but that doesn't quite do, old boy. Something must have put you
+on to it suddenly. By the way, I'll have my matches back, if you don't
+mind."
+
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+
+"Sorry.... Well then, let's see if I can go through my own mind again,
+and tell you how I guessed it. First of all, the clothes."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue. I didn't
+quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's position the
+smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value. For some
+reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance to the clothes
+which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the
+inside ones as well as the outside ones. I didn't know why, but I
+did feel certain that, in that case, the absence of the collar was
+unintentional. In collecting the clothes he had overlooked the collar.
+Why?"
+
+"It was the one in the linen-basket?"
+
+"Yes. It seemed probable. Why had Cayley put it there? The obvious
+answer was that he hadn't. Mark had put it there. I remembered what you
+told me about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and so on,
+and I felt that he was just the sort of man who would never wear the
+same collar twice." He paused, and then asked, "Is that right, do you
+think?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Bill with conviction.
+
+"Well, I guessed it was. So then I began to see an x which would fit
+just this part of the problem--the clothes part. I saw Mark changing
+his clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar in the
+linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar he had ever
+taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a chair in
+the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the clothes
+afterwards--all the visible clothes--and not realizing that the collar
+wasn't there."
+
+"Go on," said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation of
+it. Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom? The only
+answer was that the fact of his changing had to be kept secret. When did
+he change? The only possible time was between lunch (when he would be
+seen by the servants) and the moment of Robert's arrival. And when
+did Cayley collect the clothes in a bundle? Again, the only answer was
+'Before Robert's arrival.' So another x was wanted--to fit those three
+conditions."
+
+"And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?"
+
+"Yes. Well now, it couldn't be intended on the strength of that letter,
+unless there was very much more behind the letter than we knew. Nor was
+it possible a murder could be intended without any more preparation than
+the changing into a different suit in which to escape. The thing was too
+childish. Also, if Robert was to be murdered, why go out of the way to
+announce his existence to you all--even, at the cost of some trouble, to
+Mrs. Norbury? What did it all mean? I didn't know. But I began to
+feel now that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of
+Cayley's against Mark--either to get him to kill his brother, or to
+get his brother to kill him--and that for some inexplicable reason Mark
+seemed to be lending himself to the plot." He was silent for a little,
+and then said, almost to himself, "I had seen the empty brandy bottles
+in that cupboard."
+
+"You never said anything about them" complained Bill.
+
+"I only saw them afterwards. I was looking for the collar, you remember.
+They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would feel about
+it.... Poor devil!"
+
+"Go on," said Bill.
+
+"Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I suppose
+you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his way at the
+second lodge and not at the first. So I talked to Amos and Parsons. That
+made it more curious. Amos told me that Robert had gone out of his way
+to speak to him; had called to him, in fact. Parsons told me that
+his wife was out in their little garden at the first lodge all the
+afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never come past it. He also
+told me that Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn
+that afternoon. So I had another guess. Robert had used the secret
+passage--the passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges. Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a put-up job
+between Robert and Cayley. But how could Robert be there without Mark
+knowing? Obviously, Mark knew too. What did it all mean?"
+
+"When was this?" interrupted Bill. "Just after the inquest--after you'd
+seen Amos and Parsons, of course?"
+
+"Yes. I got up and left them, and came to look for you. I'd got back to
+the clothes then. Why did Mark change his clothes so secretly? Disguise?
+But then what about his face? That was much more important than clothes.
+His face, his beard--he'd have to shave off his beard--and then--oh,
+idiot! I saw you looking at that poster. Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark
+disguised. Oh, priceless idiot! Mark was Robert.... Matches, please."
+
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
+pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going into
+the other's pocket.
+
+"Yes," said Bill thoughtfully. "Yes.... But wait a moment. What about
+the 'Plough and Horses'?" Antony looked comically at him.
+
+"You'll never forgive me, Bill," he said. "You'll never come
+clue-hunting with me again."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Antony sighed.
+
+"It was a fake, Watson. I wanted you out of the way. I wanted to be
+alone. I'd guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it--to test it every
+way, by everything we'd discovered. I simply had to be alone just then.
+So--" he smiled and added, "Well, I knew you wanted a drink."
+
+"You are a devil," said Bill, staring at him. "And your interest when I
+told you that a woman had been staying there--"
+
+"Well, it was only polite to be interested when you'd taken so much
+trouble."
+
+"You brute! You--you Sherlock! And then you keep trying to steal my
+matches. Well, go on."
+
+"That's all. My x fitted."
+
+"Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?"
+
+"Well, not quite. I didn't realize that Cayley had worked for it from
+the beginning--had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark. I thought
+he'd just seized the opportunity."
+
+Bill was silent for a long time. Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
+slowly, "Has Cayley shot himself?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Poor devil," said Bill. "It was decent of you to give him a chance. I'm
+glad you did."
+
+"I couldn't help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know."
+
+"He's a clever devil. If you hadn't turned up just when you did, he
+would never have been found out."
+
+"I wonder. It was ingenious, but it's often the ingenious thing which
+gets found out. The awkward thing from Cayley's point of view was that,
+though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever be found.
+Well, that doesn't often happen with a missing man. He generally gets
+discovered in the end; a professional criminal; perhaps not--but an
+amateur like Mark! He might have kept the secret of how he killed Mark,
+but I think it would have become obvious sooner or later that he had
+killed him."
+
+"Yes, there's something in that.... Oh, just tell me one thing. Why did
+Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?"
+
+"That's puzzled me rather, too, Bill. It may be that he was just doing
+the Othello business--painting himself black all over. I mean he may
+have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he had almost got to
+believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody. More likely, though, he
+felt that, having told all of you at the house, he had better tell Miss
+Norbury, in case she met one of you; in which case, if you mentioned the
+approaching arrival of Robert, she might say, 'Oh, I'm certain he has
+no brother; he would have told me if he had,' and so spoil his joke.
+Possibly, too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many
+people as possible to know about Robert."
+
+"Are you going to tell the police?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose they'll have to know. Cayley may have left another
+confession. I hope he won't give me away; you see, I've been a sort of
+accessory since yesterday evening. And I must go and see Miss Norbury."
+
+"I asked," explained Bill, "because I was wondering what I should say
+to--to Betty. Miss Calladine. You see, she's bound to ask."
+
+"Perhaps you won't see her again for a long, long time," said Antony
+sadly.
+
+"As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons. And I go up there to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you had better tell her. You're obviously longing to. Only don't
+let her say anything for a day or two. I'll write to you."
+
+"Righto!"
+
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+
+"The Barringtons," he said. "Large party?"
+
+"Fairly, I think."
+
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+
+"Yes. Well, if any of 'em should happen to be murdered, you might send
+for me. I'm just getting into the swing of it."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 1872.txt or 1872.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/7/1872/
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/old/20081106-1872.zip b/old/20081106-1872.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2ab62be
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/20081106-1872.zip
diff --git a/old/rdhsm10.txt b/old/rdhsm10.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c9b9392
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rdhsm10.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8870 @@
+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+#1 in our series by A. A. Milne
+
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
+the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
+
+Please take a look at the important information in this header.
+We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
+electronic path open for the next readers.  Do not remove this.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
+
+Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
+further information is included below.  We need your donations.
+
+
+The Red House Mystery
+
+by A. A. Milne
+
+August, 1999  [Etext #1872]
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+******This file should be named rdhsm10.txt or 1rdhsm0.zip******
+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, rdhsm11.txt
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rdhsm10a.txt
+
+
+This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
+all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
+copyright notice is included.  Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any
+of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+
+Please note:  neither this list nor its contents are final till
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.  To be sure you have an
+up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
+in the first week of the next month.  Since our ftp program has
+a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
+look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
+new copy has at least one byte more or less.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.  This
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If our value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
+files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
+If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
+total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
+Files by December 31, 2001.  [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion]
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.
+
+At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
+of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
+manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
+from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
+assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
+more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
+don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+
+All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
+tax deductible to the extent allowable by law.  (CMU = Carnegie-
+Mellon University).
+
+For these and other matters, please mail to:
+
+Project Gutenberg
+P. O. Box  2782
+Champaign, IL 61825
+
+When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director:
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org
+if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if
+it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . .
+
+We would prefer to send you this information by email.
+
+******
+
+To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
+to view http://promo.net/pg.  This site lists Etexts by
+author and by title, and includes information about how
+to get involved with Project Gutenberg.  You could also
+download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here.  This
+is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
+for a more complete list of our various sites.
+
+To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
+Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
+sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
+at http://promo.net/pg).
+
+Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.
+
+Example FTP session:
+
+ftp sunsite.unc.edu
+login: anonymous
+password: your@login
+cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
+cd etext90 through etext99
+dir [to see files]
+get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
+GET GUTINDEX.??  [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
+GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
+
+***
+
+**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here?  You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault.  So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you.  It also tells you how
+you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement.  If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from.  If you received this etext on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
+tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
+Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
+Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project").  Among other
+things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
+under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works.  Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects".  Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
+etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from.  If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy.  If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS".  NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
+officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
+and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
+indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
+[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
+or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     etext or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
+     cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the etext (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
+     net profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
+     University" within the 60 days following each
+     date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
+     your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
+scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
+free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
+you can think of.  Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
+Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
+
+*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
+
+
+
+
+
+This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Red House Mystery
+
+by  A.A. Milne
+
+
+
+
+TO
+JOHN VINE MILNE
+MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective
+stories, and feel that there are not enough of them.  So, after
+all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you
+is to write you one.   Here it is: with more gratitude and
+affection than I can well put down here.
+
+A.A.M.
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+I.      MRS. STEVENS IS FRIGHTENED
+
+II.     Mr. GILLINGHAM GETS OUT AT THE WRONG STATION
+
+III.    TWO MEN AND A BODY
+
+IV.     THE BROTHER FROM AUSTRALIA
+
+V.      Mr. GILLINGHAM CHOOSES A NEW PROFESSION
+
+VI.     OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?
+
+VII.    PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+VIII.   "DO YOU FOLLOW ME, WATSON?"
+
+IX.     POSSIBILITIES OF A CROQUET SET
+
+X.      Mr. GILLINGHAM TALKS NONSENSE
+
+XI.     THE REVEREND THEODORE USSHER
+
+XII.    A SHADOW ON THE WALL
+
+XIII.   THE OPEN WINDOW
+
+XIV.    Mr. BEVERLEY QUALIFIES FOR THE STAGE
+
+XV.     MRS. NORBURY CONFIDES IN DEAR MR. GILLINGHAM
+
+XVI.    GETTING READY FOR THE NIGHT
+
+XVII.   Mr. BEVERLEY TAKES THE WATER
+
+XVIII.  GUESS-WORK
+
+XIX.    THE INQUEST
+
+XX.     Mr. BEVERLEY IS TACTFUL
+
+XXI.    CAYLEY'S APOLOGY
+
+XXII.   Mr. BEVERLEY MOVES ON
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+
+
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking
+its siesta.  There was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders,
+a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms.  From distant
+lawns came the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all
+country sounds; making ease the sweeter in that it is taken while
+others are working.
+
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to
+the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves.  In the
+housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlourmaid,
+re-trimmed her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the
+cook-housekeeper of Mr. Mark Ablett's bachelor home.
+
+"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat.  Audrey
+nodded.  She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in the hat
+for it, and said, "He likes a bit of pink."
+
+"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt.  "Joe
+Turner isn't the only one."
+
+"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out at
+arm's length, and regarding it thoughtfully.  "Stylish, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at your
+age.  A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better than some
+other people, I daresay.  I was never the one to pretend to be what
+I wasn't.  If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five - that's what I say."
+
+"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"
+
+"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with great
+dignity.
+
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her nails
+critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+
+"Funny thing that about Mr. Mark's brother.  Fancy not seeing your
+brother for fifteen years." She gave a self-conscious laugh and
+went on, "Wonder what I should do if I didn't see Joe for fifteen
+years."
+
+"As I told you all this morning," said her aunt, "I've been here
+five years, and never heard of a brother.  I could say that before
+everybody if I was going to die to-morrow.  There's been no brother
+here while I've been here."
+
+"You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke about
+him at breakfast this morning.  I didn't hear what went before,
+naturally, but they was all talking about the brother when I went
+in - now what was it I went in for - hot milk, was it, or toast?
+- well, they was all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me, and says
+- you know his way - 'Stevens,' he says, 'my brother is coming to
+see me this afternoon; I'm expecting him about three,' he says.
+'Show him into the office,' he says, just like that.  'Yes, sir,'
+I says quite quietly, but I was never so surprised in my life, not
+knowing he had a brother.  'My brother from Australia,' he says
+- there, I'd forgotten that.  From Australia."
+
+"Well, he may have been in Australia," said Mrs. Stevens, judicially;
+"I can't say for that, not knowing the country; but what I do say
+is he's never been here.  Not while I've been here, and that's five
+years."
+
+"Well, but, auntie, he hasn't been here for fifteen years.  I heard
+Mr. Mark telling Mr. Cayley.  'Fifteen years,' he says.  Mr. Cayley
+having arst him when his brother was last in England.  Mr. Cayley
+knew of him, I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but didn't know when
+he was last in England - see?  So that's why he arst Mr. Mark."
+
+"I'm not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey.  I can only
+speak for what I know, and that's five years Whitsuntide.  I can
+take my oath he's not set foot in the house since five years
+Whitsuntide.  And if he's been in Australia, as you say, well, I
+daresay he's had his reasons."
+
+"What reasons?" said Audrey lightly.
+
+"Never mind what reasons.  Being in the place of a mother to you,
+since your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey - when a gentleman
+goes to Australia, he has his reasons.  And when he stays in
+Australia fifteen years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for myself
+for five years, he has his reasons.  And a respectably brought-up
+girl doesn't ask what reasons."
+
+"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly.  "They were
+saying at breakfast he'd been a wild one.  Debts.  I'm glad Joe isn't
+like that.  He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office savings' bank.
+Did I tell you?"
+
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that afternoon.
+The ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet - no longer Audrey,
+but now Stevens.  She arranged her cap in front of the glass.
+
+"There, that's the front door," she said.  "That's him.  'Show him
+into the office,' said Mr. Mark.  I suppose he doesn't want the
+other ladies and gentlemen to see him.  Well, they're all out at
+their golf, anyhow - Wonder if he's going to stay - P'raps he's
+brought back a lot of gold from Australia - I might hear something
+about Australia, because if anybody can get gold there, then I
+don't say but what Joe and I -"
+
+"Now, now, get on, Audrey."
+
+"Just going, darling." She went out.
+
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun, the
+open door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting hall,
+of which even the mere sight was cooling.  lt was a big low-roofed,
+oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and diamond-paned windows,
+blue-curtained.  On the right and left were doors leading into other
+living-rooms, but on the side which faced you as you came in were
+windows again, looking on to a small grass court, and from open
+windows to open windows such air as there was played gently.  The
+staircase went up in broad, low steps along the right-hand wall,
+and, turning to the left, led you along a gallery, which ran across
+the width of the hail, to your bedroom.  That is, if you were going
+to stay the night.  Mr. Robert Ablett's intentions in this matter
+were as yet unknown.
+
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw
+Mr. Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one
+of the front windows, reading.  No reason why he shouldn't be there;
+certainly a much cooler place than the golf-links on such a day; but
+somehow there was a deserted air about the house that afternoon, as
+if all the guests were outside, or - perhaps the wisest place of
+all - up in their bedrooms, sleeping.  Mr. Cayley, the master's
+cousin, was a surprise; and, having given a little exclamation as
+she came suddenly upon him, she blushed, and said, "Oh, I beg your
+pardon, sir, I didn't see you at first," and he looked up from his
+book and smiled at her.  An attractive smile it was on that big ugly
+face.  "Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley," she thought to herself as she
+went on, and wondered what the master would do without him.  If this
+brother, for instance, had to be bundled back to Australia, it was
+Mr. Cayley who would do most of the bundling.
+
+"So this is Mr. Robert," said Audrey to herself, as she came in
+sight of the visitor.
+
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him anywhere
+for Mr. Mark's brother, but she would have said that in any event.
+Actually she was surprised.  Dapper little Mark, with his neat
+pointed beard and his carefully curled moustache; with his
+quick-darting eyes, always moving from one to the other of any
+company he was in, to register one more smile to his credit when he
+had said a good thing, one more expectant look when he was only
+waiting his turn to say it; he was a very different man from this
+rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial, staring at her so loweringly.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett," he growled.  It sounded almost like
+a threat.
+
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him.  She had a
+smile for everybody.
+
+"Yes, sir.  He is expecting you, if you will come this way."
+
+"Oh!  So you know who I am, eh?"
+
+"Mr. Robert Ablett?"
+
+"Ay, that's right.  So he's expecting me, eh?  He'll be glad
+to see me, eh?"
+
+"If you will come this way, sir," said Audrey primly.
+
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+
+"Mr. Robert Ab-" she began, and then broke off.  The room was empty.
+She turned to the man behind her.  "If you will sit down, sir, I will
+find the master.  I know he's in, because he told me that you were
+coming this afternoon."
+
+"Oh!" He looked round the room.  "What d'you call this place, eh?"
+
+"The office, sir."
+
+"The office?"
+
+"The room where the master works, sir."
+
+"Works, eh?  That's new.  Didn't know he'd ever done a stroke of
+work in his life."
+
+"Where he writes, sir," said Audrey, with dignity.  The fact that Mr.
+Mark "wrote," though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride in the
+housekeeper's room.
+
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?"
+
+"I will tell the master you are here, sir," said Audrey decisively.
+
+She closed the door and left him there.
+
+Well!  Here was something to tell auntie!  Her mind was busy at
+once, going over all the things which he had said to her and she
+had said to him - quiet-like.  "Directly I saw him I said to
+myself -"  Why, you could have knocked her over with a feather.
+Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual menace to Audrey.
+
+However, the immediate business was to find the master.  She walked
+across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a little
+uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+
+"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can you
+tell me where the master is?  It's Mr. Robert called."
+
+"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book.  "Who?"
+
+Audrey repeated her question.
+
+"I don't know.  Isn't he in the office?  He went up to the Temple
+after lunch.  I don't think I've seen him since."
+
+"Thank you, sir.  I will go up to the Temple."
+
+Cayley returned to his book.
+
+The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back
+of the house, about three hundred yards away.  Here Mark meditated
+sometimes before retiring to the "office" to put his thoughts upon
+paper.  The thoughts were not of any great value; moreover, they
+were given off at the dinner-table more often than they got on to
+paper, and got on to paper more often than they got into print.
+But that did not prevent the master of The Red House from being a
+little pained when a visitor treated the Temple carelessly, as if
+it had been erected for the ordinary purposes of flirtation and
+cigarette-smoking.  There had been an occasion when two of his
+guests had been found playing fives in it.  Mark had said nothing
+at the time, save to ask with a little less than his usual point
+- whether they couldn't find anywhere else for their game, but the
+offenders were never asked to The Red House again.
+
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked slowly
+back.  All that walk for nothing.  Perhaps the master was upstairs
+in his room.  "Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room."  Well,
+now, Auntie, would you like anyone in your drawing-room with a red
+handkerchief round his neck and great big dusty boots, and - listen!
+One of the men shooting rabbits.  Auntie was partial to a nice
+rabbit, and onion sauce.  How hot it was; she wouldn't say no to a
+cup of tea.  Well, one thing, Mr. Robert wasn't staying the night;
+he hadn't any luggage.  Of course Mr. Mark could lend him things;
+he had clothes enough for six.  She would have known him anywhere
+for Mr. Mark's brother.
+
+She came into the house.  As she passed the housekeeper's room on
+her way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather
+frightened face looked out.
+
+"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie.  "It's Audrey," she said, turning into
+the room.
+
+"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn.  Where have you been?"
+
+"Up to the Temple."
+
+"Did you hear anything?"
+
+"Hear what?"
+
+"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
+
+"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved.  "One of the men shooting
+rabbits.  Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's partial
+to a nice rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised if -"
+
+"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully.  "It was inside the house, my
+girl."
+
+"Straight it was," said Elsie.  She was one of the housemaids.  "I
+said to Mrs. Stevens - didn't I, Mrs. Stevens? - 'That was in the
+house,' I said."
+
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+
+"Do you think he had a revolver with him?" she said in a hushed
+voice.
+
+"Who?" said Elsie excitedly.
+
+"That brother of his.  From Australia.  I said as soon as I set
+eyes on him, 'You're a bad lot, my man!'  That's what I said, Elsie.
+Even before he spoke to me.  Rude!"  She turned to her aunt.  "Well,
+I give you my word."
+
+"If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with
+anyone from Australia."  Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair,
+breathing rather rapidly.  "I wouldn't go out of this room now, not
+if you paid me a hundred thousand pounds.".
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Stevens!" said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings for
+a new pair of shoes, "I wouldn't go as far as that, not myself, but -"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start.  They listened
+anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to the older
+woman's chair.
+
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+
+They heard a man's voice, loud, angry.
+
+"Open the door!" it was shouting.  "Open the door!  I say, open the
+door!"
+
+"Don't open the door!" cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it was
+her door which was threatened.  "Audrey!  Elsie!  Don't let him in!"
+
+"Damn it, open the door!" came the voice again.
+
+"We're all going to be murdered in our beds," she quavered.  Terrified,
+the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round each, Mrs. Stevens
+sat there, waiting.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+
+
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of view,
+but it may be said at once that he never bored his company on the
+subject of his early life.  However, stories get about.  There is
+always somebody who knows.  It was understood - and this, anyhow,
+on Mark's own authority - that his father had been a country
+clergyman.  It was said that, as a boy, Mark had attracted the
+notice, and patronage, of some rich old spinster of the
+neighbourhood, who had paid for his education, both at school and
+university.  At about the time when he was coming down from
+Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few debts,
+as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons,
+as an example to his successor.  Neither warning nor example seems
+to have been effective.  Mark went to London, with an allowance
+from his patron, and (it is generally agreed) made acquaintance
+with the money-lenders.  He was supposed, by his patron and any
+others who inquired, to be "writing"; but what he wrote, other
+than letters asking for more time to pay, has never been discovered.
+However, he attended the theatres and music halls very regularly
+- no doubt with a view to some serious articles in the "Spectator"
+on the decadence of the English stage.
+
+Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died during his
+third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted.  From
+that moment his life loses its legendary character, and becomes
+more a matter of history.  He settled accounts with the
+money-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvesting
+of others, and became in his turn a patron.  He patronized the Arts.
+It was not only usurers who discovered that Mark Ablett no longer
+wrote for money; editors were now offered free contributions as
+well as free lunches; publishers were given agreements for an
+occasional slender volume, in which the author paid all expenses
+and waived all royalties; promising young painters and poets dined
+with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour, playing
+host and "lead" with equal lavishness.
+
+He was not what most people call a snob.  A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a
+mean lover of mean things - which would be a little unkind to the
+peerage if the first definition were true.  Mark had his vanities
+undoubtedly, but he would sooner have met an actor-manager than an
+earl; he would have spoken of his friendship with Dante - had that
+been possible - more glibly than of his friendship with the Duke.
+Call him a snob if you like, but not the worst kind of snob; a
+hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not Society; a climber, but in
+the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts.  It also included Matthew
+Cayley, a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as
+limited as had been Mark's own before his patron had rescued him.
+He sent the Cayley cousin to school and Cambridge.  His motives, no
+doubt, were unworldly enough at first; a mere repaying to his
+account in the Recording Angel's book of the generosity which had
+been lavished on himself; a laying-up of treasure in heaven.  But
+it is probable that, as the boy grew up, Mark's designs for his
+future were based on his own interests as much as those of his
+cousin, and that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of twenty-three
+was felt by him to be a useful property for a man in his position;
+a man, that is to say, whose vanities left him so little time for
+his affairs.
+
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin's affairs.
+By this time Mark had bought The Red House and the considerable
+amount of land which went with it.  Cayley superintended the
+necessary staff.  His duties, indeed, were many.  He was not quite
+secretary, not quite land-agent, not quite business-adviser, not
+quite companion, but something of all four.  Mark leant upon him
+and called him "Cay," objecting quite rightly in the circumstances
+to the name of Matthew.  Cay, he felt was, above all, dependable;
+a big, heavy-jawed, solid fellow, who didn't bother you with
+unnecessary talk - a boon to a man who liked to do most of the
+talking himself.
+
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty,
+which was his patron's age.  Spasmodically they entertained a good
+deal at The Red House, and Mark's preference - call it kindliness
+or vanity, as you please - was for guests who were not in a position
+to repay his hospitality.  Let us have a look at them as they came
+down to that breakfast, of which Stevens, the parlourmaid, has
+already given us a glimpse.
+
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey flannel
+trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural history
+articles for the papers.  He inspected the dishes on the side-table,
+decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it.  He had passed
+on to a sausage by the time of the next arrival.  This was Bill
+Beverly, a cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
+
+"Hallo, Major," he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
+
+"It isn't gout," said the Major gruffly.
+
+"Well, whatever it is."
+
+The Major grunted.
+
+"I make a point of being polite at breakfast," said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge.  "Most people are so rude.  That's why
+I asked you.  But don't tell me if it's a secret.  Coffee?" he
+added, as he poured himself out a cup.
+
+"No, thanks.  I never drink till I've finished eating."
+
+"Quite right, Major; it's only manners."  He sat down opposite to
+the other.  "Well, we've got a good day for our game.  It's going
+to be dashed hot, but that's where Betty and I score.  On the fifth
+green, your old wound, the one you got in that frontier skirmish in
+'43, will begin to trouble you; on the eighth, your liver,
+undermined by years of curry, will drop to pieces; on the twelfth-"
+
+"Oh, shut up, you ass!"
+
+"Well, I'm only warning you.  Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris.  I
+was just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and him
+this morning.  Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing
+your own breakfast?"
+
+"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris.  "I'll help myself.  Good
+morning, Major."  She smiled pleasantly at him.  The Major nodded.
+
+"Good morning.  Going to be hot."
+
+"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where- Hallo, here's
+Betty.  Morning, Cayley."
+
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together.  Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the
+painter, who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark.  Ruth
+Norris took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays,
+seriously as a golfer.  She was quite competent as either.  Neither
+the Stage Society nor Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+
+"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley, looking
+up from his letters.  "You're lunching there, and driving back
+directly afterwards.  Isn't that right?"
+
+"I don't see why we shouldn't have - two rounds," said Bill
+hopefully.
+
+"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major.  "Get back
+comfortably for tea."
+
+Mark came in.  He was generally the last.  He greeted them and sat
+down to toast and tea.  Breakfast was not his meal.  The others
+chattered gently while he read his letters.
+
+"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
+
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him.  "I beg your
+pardon, Miss Norris.  Sorry, Betty."
+
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness.  She often wanted to say it
+herself, particularly at rehearsals.
+
+"I say, Cay!"  He was frowning to himself - annoyed, puzzled.  He
+held up a letter and shook it.  "Who do you think this is from?"
+
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders.  How
+could he possibly guess?
+
+"Robert," said Mark.
+
+"Robert?"  It was difficult to surprise Cayley.  "Well?"
+
+"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark peevishly.
+"He's coming here this afternoon."
+
+"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
+
+"Of course.  So did I." He looked across at Rumbold.  "Got any
+brothers, Major?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
+
+"Not likely to now," said the Major.
+
+Bill laughed.  Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any
+brothers, Mr. Ablett?"
+
+"One," said Mark grimly.  "If you're back in time you'll see him
+this afternoon.  He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds.
+Don't."
+
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow
+from him."
+
+"Like Robert," said Mark.
+
+"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
+
+"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it?  You'd have been a boy, of
+course."
+
+"Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn't know if
+he had been back since."
+
+"No.  Not to my knowledge."  Mark, still obviously upset, returned
+to his letter.
+
+"Personally," said Bill, "I think relations are a great mistake."
+
+"All the same," said Betty a little daringly, "it must be rather
+fun having a skeleton in the cupboard."
+
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+
+"If you think it's fun, I'll hand him over to you, Betty.  If he's
+anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have been
+- well, Cay knows."
+
+Cayley grunted.
+
+"All I knew was that one didn't ask questions about him."
+
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to
+ask more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too freely
+in front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a mere
+statement of fact.  But the subject dropped, to be succeeded by
+the more fascinating one of the coming foursome.  Mrs. Calladine
+was driving over with the players in order to lunch with an old
+friend who lived near the links, and Mark and Cayley were remaining
+at home - on affairs.  Apparently "affairs" were now to include a
+prodigal brother.  But that need not make the foursome less
+enjoyable.
+
+
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was fluffing
+his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin were at their
+business at The Red House, an attractive gentleman of the name of
+Antony Gillingham was handing up his ticket at Woodham station and
+asking the way to the village.  Having received directions, he left
+his bag with the station-master and walked off leisurely.  He is an
+important person to this story, so that it is as well we should know
+something about him before letting him loose in it.  Let us stop
+him at the top of the hill on some excuse, and have a good look at
+him.
+
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the looking
+than we are.  Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of the type
+usually associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of grey eyes
+which seem to be absorbing every detail of our person.  To strangers
+this look is almost alarming at first, until they discover that his
+mind is very often elsewhere; that he has, so to speak, left his
+eyes on guard, while he himself follows a train of thought in another
+direction.  Many people do this, of course; when, for instance, they
+are talking to one person and trying to listen to another; but their
+eyes betray them.  Antony's never did.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though never
+as a sailor.  When at the age of twenty-one he came into his mother's
+money, 400 pounds a year, old Gillingham looked up from the
+"Stockbreeders' Gazette" to ask what he was going to do.
+
+"See the world," said Antony.
+
+"Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to."
+
+"Right," said Antony.
+
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper.  Antony was a younger son,
+and, on the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets
+of certain other families; Champion Birket's, for instance.  But,
+then, Champion Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever bred.
+
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than London.
+His idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries, but people;
+and to see them from as many angles as possible.  There are all
+sorts in London if you know how to look at them.  So Antony looked
+at them - from various strange corners; from the view-point of the
+valet, the newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the shop-assistant.  With
+the independence of 400 pounds a year behind him, he enjoyed it
+immensely.  He never stayed long in one job, and generally closed
+his connexion with it by telling his employer (contrary to all
+etiquette as understood between master and servant) exactly what he
+thought of him.  He had no difficulty in finding a new profession.
+Instead of experience and testimonials he offered his personality
+and a sporting bet.  He would take no wages 'the first month, and
+- if he satisfied his employer - double wages the second.  He
+always got his double wages.
+
+He was now thirty.  He had come to Waldheim for a holiday, because
+he liked the look of the station.  His ticket entitled him to travel
+further, but he had always intended to please himself in the matter.
+Waldheim attracted him, and he had a suit-case in the carriage with
+him and money in his pocket.  Why not get out?
+
+The landlady of "The George" was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+
+"And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir." 
+
+"Yes, but don't give yourself any trouble about it.  Cold
+anything-you've-got."
+
+"What about beef, sir?" she asked, as if she had a hundred varieties
+of meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+
+"That will do splendidly.  And a pint of beer."
+
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask about
+the luggage.  Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him talking.
+
+"It must be rather fun to keep a country inn," he said, thinking that
+it was about time he started another profession.
+
+"I don't know about fun, sir.  It gives us a living, and a bit over."
+
+"You ought to take a holiday," said Antony, looking at him
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Funny thing your saying that," said the landlord, with a smile.
+"Another gentleman, over from The Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday.  Offered to take my place 'n all."  He laughed rumblingly.
+
+"The Red House?  Not the Red House, Stanton?"
+
+"That's right, sir.  Stanton's the next station to Waldheim.  The Red
+House is about a mile from here - Mr. Ablett's."
+
+Antony took a letter from his pocket.  It was addressed from "The
+Red House, Stanton," and signed "Bill."
+
+"Good old Bill," he murmured to himself.  "He's getting on."
+
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist's
+shop.  Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley
+on the other.  Something about Bill, his youth and freshness,
+perhaps, attracted Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered,
+and an address given to which they were to be sent, he remembered
+that he had come across an aunt of Beverley's once at a
+country-house.  Beverley and he met again a little later at a
+restaurant.  Both of them were in evening-dress, but they did
+different things with their napkins, and Antony was the more polite
+of the two.  However, he still liked Bill.  So on one of his
+holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an introduction
+through a mutual friend.  Beverley was a little inclined to be
+shocked when he was reminded of their previous meetings, but his
+uncomfortable feeling soon wore off, and he and Antony quickly
+became intimate.  But Bill generally addressed him as "Dear Madman"
+when he happened to write.
+
+Antony decided to stroll over to The Red House after lunch and call
+upon his friend.  Having inspected his bedroom which was not quite
+the lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but
+sufficiently clean and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front of
+the house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the flower-borders, a
+gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the elms, and from distant
+lawns the whir of a mowing-machine, that most restful of all country
+sounds.... 
+
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting,
+"Open the door, I say; open the door!"
+
+"Hallo!" said Antony in amazement.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Two Men and a Body
+
+
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+
+"Can I help?" said Antony politely.
+
+"Something's happened," said Cayley.  He was breathing quickly.  "I
+heard a shot-it sounded like a shot - I was in the library.  A loud
+bang - I didn't know what it was.  And the door's locked."  He
+rattled the handle again, and shook it.  "Open the door!" he cried.
+"I say, Mark, what is it?  Open the door!"
+
+"But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony.  "So
+why should he open it just because you ask him to?"
+
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way.  Then he turned to the
+door again.  "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder
+to it.  "Help me."
+
+"Isn't there a window?"
+
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+
+"Window?  Window?"
+
+"So much easier to break in a window," said Antony with a smile.
+He looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the hall,
+leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great deal of
+fuss was being made about nothing.  But then, he had not heard the
+shot.
+
+"Window - of course!  What an idiot I am."
+
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive.  Antony
+followed him.  They ran along the front of the house, down a path to
+the left, and then to the left again over the grass, Cayley in front,
+the other close behind him.  Suddenly Cayley looked over his shoulder
+and pulled up short.
+
+"Here," he said.
+
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows which
+opened on to the lawns at the back of the house.  But now they were
+closed.  Antony couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement as he
+followed Cayley's example, and put his face close up to the glass.
+For the first time he wondered if there really had been a revolver
+shot in this mysterious room.  It had all seemed so absurd and
+melodramatic from the other side of the door.  But if there had been
+one shot, why should there not be two more? - at the careless fools
+who were pressing their noses against the panes, and asking for it.
+
+"My God, can you see it?" said Cayley in a shaking voice.  "Down
+there.  Look!"
+
+The next moment Antony saw it.  A man was lying on the floor at the
+far end of the room, his back towards them.  A man?  Or the body of
+a man?
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"I don't know," the other whispered.
+
+"Well, we'd better go and see."  He considered the windows for a
+moment.  "I should think, if you put your weight into it, just
+where they join, they'll give all right.  Otherwise, we can kick
+the glass in."
+
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it.  The window
+gave, and they went into the room.  Cayley walked quickly to the
+body, and dropped on his knees by it.  For the moment he seemed to
+hesitate; then with an effort he put a hand on to its shoulder and
+pulled it over.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"Robert Ablett."
+
+"Oh!" said Antony.  "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more to
+himself than to the other.
+
+"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here.  Robert is his brother."  He shuddered,
+and said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
+
+"Was Mark in the room too?"
+
+"Yes," said Cayley absently.  Then, as if resenting suddenly these
+questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
+
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the handle.
+"I suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he came back to
+the body again.
+
+"Who?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor.  "Is
+he dead?"
+
+"Help me," said Cayley simply.
+
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look at
+it.  Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes.  It was not a
+pleasant sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity for
+the man beside him, and a sudden remorse for the careless, easy way
+in which he had treated the affair.  But then one always went about
+imagining that these things didn't happen - except to other people.
+It was difficult to believe in them just at first, when they happened
+to yourself.
+
+"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly.  He meant, "Were you
+fond of him?"
+
+"Hardly at all.  Mark is my cousin.  I mean, Mark is the brother I
+know best."
+
+"Your cousin?"
+
+"Yes."  He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead?  I suppose he is.
+Will you - do you know anything about - about that sort of thing?
+Perhaps I'd better get some water."
+
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as
+Antony was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from
+which opened two more rooms.  Cayley stepped into the passage, and
+opened the door on the right.  The door from the office, through
+which he had gone, remained open.  The door, at the end of the
+short passage was shut.  Antony, kneeling by the body, followed
+Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had disappeared, kept his eyes
+on the blank wall of the passage, but he was not conscious of that
+at which he was looking, for his mind was with the other man,
+sympathizing with him.
+
+"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself,
+"but the feeling that you're doing something, when there's obviously
+nothing to be done, is a great comfort."
+
+Cayley came into the room again.  He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other.  He looked at Antony.  Antony nodded.
+Cayley murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's
+face.  Then he placed the handkerchief over it.  A little sigh
+escaped Antony, a sigh of relief.
+
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+
+"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
+
+"That's very kind of you.  There will be things to do.  Police,
+doctors - I don't know.  But you mustn't let me trespass on your
+kindness.  Indeed, I should apologise for having trespassed so
+much already."
+
+"I came to see Beverley.  He is an old friend of mine."
+
+"He's out playing golf.  He will be back directly."  Then, as if he
+had only just realized it, "They will all be back directly."
+
+"I will stay if I can be of any help."
+
+"Please do.  You see, there are women.  It will be rather painful.
+If you would -"  He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid little smile,
+pathetic in so big and self-reliant a man.  "Just your moral support,
+you know.  It would be something."
+
+"Of course."  Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully, "Well,
+then, I'll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the police."
+
+"The police?  Y-yes." He looked doubtfully at the other.  "I
+suppose -"
+
+Antony spoke frankly.
+
+"Now, look here, Mr-er -"
+
+"Cayley.  I'm Mark Ablett's cousin.  I live with him."
+
+"My name's Gillingham.  I'm sorry, I ought to have told you before.
+Well now, Mr. Cayley, we shan't do any good by pretending.  Here's a
+man been shot - well, somebody shot him."
+
+"He might have shot himself," mumbled Cayley.
+
+"Yes, he might have, but he didn't.  Or if he did, somebody was in
+the room at the time, and that somebody isn't here now.  And that
+somebody took a revolver away with him.  Well, the police will want
+to say a word about that, won't they?"
+
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+
+"Oh, I know what you're thinking, and believe me I do sympathize
+with you, but we can't be children about it.  If your cousin Mark
+Ablett was in the room with this" - he indicated the body - "this
+man, then -"
+
+"Who said he was?" said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at
+Antony.
+
+"You did."
+
+"I was in the library.  Mark went in - he may have come out again
+- I know nothing.  Somebody else may have gone in -"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Antony patiently, as if to a little child.  You
+know your cousin; I don't.  Let's agree that he had nothing to do
+with it.  But somebody was in the room when this man was shot,
+and - well, the police will have to know.  Don't you think -"  He
+looked at the telephone.  "Or would you rather I did it?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+
+"May I - er - look round a bit?"  Antony nodded towards the open
+door.
+
+"Oh, do.  Yes."  He sat down and drew the telephone towards him.
+"You must make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham.  You see, I've
+known Mark for a very long time.  But, of course, you're quite right,
+and I'm merely being stupid." He took off the receiver.
+
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first acquaintance
+with this "office," we are coming into it from the hall, through the
+door which is now locked, but which, for our special convenience,
+has been magically unlocked for us.  As we stand just inside the
+door, the length of the room runs right and left; or, more
+accurately, to the right only, for the left-hand wall is almost
+within our reach.  Immediately opposite to us, across the breadth
+of the room (some fifteen feet), is that other door, by which Cayley
+went out and returned a few minutes ago.  In the right-hand wall,
+thirty feet away from us, are the French windows.  Crossing the room
+and going out by the opposite door, we come into a passage, from
+which two rooms lead.  The one on the right, into which Cayley went,
+is less than half the length of the office, a small, square room,
+which has evidently been used some time or other as a bedroom.  The
+bed is no longer there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold
+taps, in a corner; chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers.
+The window faces the same way as the French windows in the next room;
+but anybody looking out of the bedroom window has his view on the
+immediate right shut off by the outer wall of the office, which
+projects, by reason of its greater length, fifteen feet further into
+the lawn.
+
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom.  The three
+rooms together, in fact, form a sort of private suite; used,
+perhaps, during the occupation of the previous owner, by some
+invalid, who could not manage the stairs, but allowed by Mark to
+fall into disuse, save for the living-room.  At any rate, he never
+slept downstairs.
+
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the bedroom,
+the room into which Cayley had been.  The window was open, and he
+looked out at the well-kept grass beneath him, and the peaceful
+stretch of park beyond; and he felt very sorry for the owner of it
+all, who was now mixed up in so grim a business.
+
+"Cayley thinks he did it," said Antony to himself.  "That's obvious.
+It explains why he wasted so much time banging on the door.  Why
+should he try to break a lock when it's so much easier to break a
+window?  Of course he might just have lost his head; on the other
+hand, he might - well, he might have wanted to give his cousin a
+chance of getting away.  The same about the police, and - oh, lots
+of things.  Why, for instance, did we run all the way round the
+house in order to get to the windows?  Surely there's a back way
+out through the hall.  I must have a look later on."
+
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost his head.
+
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to
+see Cayley in the doorway.  He remained looking at him for a moment,
+asking himself a question.  It was rather a curious question.  He
+was asking himself why the door was open.
+
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained
+easily enough.  But why had he expected the door to be shut?  He
+did not remember shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see
+it open now, to see Cayley through the doorway, just coming into
+the room.  Something working sub-consciously in his brain had told
+him that it was surprising.  Why?
+
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment;
+the answer would come to him later on.  He had a wonderfully
+retentive mind.  Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make
+its corresponding impression somewhere in his brain; often without
+his being conscious of it; and these photographic impressions were
+always there ready for him when he wished to develop them.
+
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+
+"I've telephoned," he said.  "They're sending an inspector or some
+one from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from Stanton."
+He shrugged his shoulders.  "We're in for it now."
+
+"How far away is Middleston?"  It was the town for which Antony had
+taken a ticket that morning - only six hours ago.  How absurd it
+seemed.
+
+"About twenty miles.  These people will be coming back soon.
+
+"Beverley, and the others?"
+
+"Yes.  I expect they'll want to go away at once."
+
+"Much better that they should."
+
+"Yes." Cayley was silent for a little.  Then he said, "You're
+staying near here?"
+
+"I'm at 'The George,' at Waldheim."
+
+"If you're by yourself, I wish you'd put up here.  You see," he went
+on awkwardly, "you'll have to be here - for the - the inquest and
+- and so on.  If I may offer you my cousin's hospitality in his - I
+mean if he doesn't - if he really has -"
+
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+
+"That's good.  Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he's a friend of
+yours.  He's a good fellow."
+
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had hesitated
+to say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother alive.  It
+didn't follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer.  Revolvers go off
+accidentally; and when they have gone off, people lose their heads
+and run away, fearing that their story will not be believed. 
+Nevertheless, when people run away, whether innocently or guiltily,
+one can't help wondering which way they went.
+
+"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the window.
+
+"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.
+
+"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself.  "The
+murderer.  Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after Robert
+Ablett was killed."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, how else could he have got away?  He didn't go by the windows
+in the next room, because they were shut."
+
+"Isn't that rather odd?"
+
+"Well, I thought so at first, but -"  He pointed to the wall jutting
+out on the right.  "You see, you're protected from the rest of the
+house if you get out here, and you're quite close to the shrubbery.
+If you go out at the French windows, I imagine you're much more
+visible.  All that part of the house -" he waved his right hand
+ - "the west, well, north-west almost, where the kitchen parts are
+ - you see, you're hidden from them here.  Oh, yes!  he knew the
+house, whoever it was, and he was quite right to come out of this
+window.  He'd be into the shrubbery at once."
+
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty
+well, considering that this is the first time you've been to it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, I notice things, you know.  I was born noticing.  But
+I'm right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"
+
+"Yes, I think you are." Cayley looked away - towards the shrubbery.
+"Do you want to go noticing in there now?"  He nodded at it.
+
+"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
+"It's - well, there's no hurry."
+
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath for
+the answer, and could now breathe again.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The Brother from Australia
+
+
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason - the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by Mark.
+But when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to what they
+wanted to do, the plan had to be kept.  Mrs. Calladine, who knew
+this little weakness of their host's, resisted, therefore, the
+suggestion of Bill that they should have a second round in the
+afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea.  The other golfers
+were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine, without actually saying
+that Mr. Ablett wouldn't like it, was firm on the point that, having
+arranged to be back by four, they should be back by four.
+
+"I really don't think Mark wants us, you know," said the Major.
+Having played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself
+in the afternoon that he was really better than that.  "With this
+brother of his coming, he'll be only too glad to have us out of
+the way."
+
+"Of course he will, Major." This from Bill.  "You'd like to play,
+wouldn't you, Miss Norris?"
+
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+
+"Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn't keep you
+here.  Besides, it's so dull for you, not playing."
+
+"Just nine holes, mother," pleaded Betty.
+
+"The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we were
+having another round, and then it could come back for us," said
+Bill brilliantly.
+
+"It's certainly much cooler here than I expected," put in the Major.
+
+Mrs. Calladine fell.  It was very pleasantly cool outside the
+golf-house, and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them
+out of the way.  So she consented to nine holes; and the match
+having ended all-square, and everybody having played much better
+than in the morning, they drove back to The Red House, very well
+pleased with themselves.
+
+"Halo," said Bill to himself, as they approached the house, "isn't
+that old Tony?"
+
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them.  Bill
+waved, and he waved back.  Then as the car drew up, Bill, who was
+in front with the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him eagerly.
+
+"Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?"  He had a
+sudden idea.  "Don't say you're Mark Ablett's long-lost brother from
+Australia, though I could quite believe it of you."  He laughed
+boyishly.
+
+"Hallo, Bill," said Antony quietly.  "Will you introduce me?  I'm
+afraid I've got some bad news."
+
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him.  The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to
+them in a low voice.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said.  "Robert
+Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed."  He jerked a
+thumb over his shoulder, "In the house."
+
+"Good God!" said the Major.
+
+"Do you mean that he has killed himself?" asked Mrs.  Calladine.
+"Just now?"
+
+"It was about two hours ago.  I happened to come here," - he
+half-turned to Beverley and explained - "I was coming to see you,
+Bill, and I arrived just after the - the death.  Mr. Cayley and I
+found the body.  Mr. Cayley being busy just now - there are police
+and doctors and so on in the house - he asked me to tell you.  He
+says that no doubt you would prefer, the house-party having been
+broken up in this tragic way, to leave as soon as possible."  He
+gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went on, "I am putting
+it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you must consult
+your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make your
+own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train you wish
+to catch.  There is one this evening, I understand, which you could
+go by if you wished it."
+
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony.  He had no words in his
+vocabulary to express what he wanted to say, other than those the
+Major had already used.  Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris
+and saying, "Who's killed?" in an awe-struck voice, and Miss Norris,
+who was instinctively looking as tragic as she looked on the stage
+when a messenger announced the death of one of the cast, stopped for
+a moment in order to explain.  Mrs. Calladine was quietly mistress
+of herself.
+
+"We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand," she said; "but
+we can't just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because
+something terrible has happened there.  I must see Mark, and we can
+arrange later what to do.  He must know how very deeply we feel for
+him.  Perhaps we -" she hesitated.
+
+"The Major and I might be useful anyway," said Bill.  "Isn't that
+what you mean, Mrs. Calladine?"
+
+"Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+
+Antony looked back unwaveringly - and said nothing.
+
+"I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine,
+"that it would be better if you took Betty back to London to-night."
+
+"Very well," she agreed quietly.  "You will come with us, Ruth?"
+
+"I'll see you safely there," said Bill in a meek voice.  He didn't
+quite know what was happening, and, having expected to stay at the
+Red House for another week, he had nowhere to go to in London, but
+London seemed to be the place that everyone was going to, and when
+he could get Tony alone for a moment, Tony no doubt would explain.
+
+"Cayley wants you to stay, Bill.  You have to go anyhow, to-morrow,
+Major Rumbold?"
+
+"Yes.  I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine."
+
+"Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not
+hesitate to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as
+regard any telephoning or telegraphing that you want done."  He
+smiled again and added, "Please forgive me if I seem to have taken
+a good deal upon myself, but I just happened to be handy as a
+mouthpiece for Cayley."  He bowed to them and went into the house.
+
+"Well!" said Miss Norris dramatically.
+
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was
+just crossing into the library with Cayley.  The latter stopped and
+nodded to Antony.
+
+"Wait a moment, Inspector.  Here's Mr. Gillingham.  He'd better come
+with us."  And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch."
+
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+
+"Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley.
+
+"Oh!  Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit.
+I like to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+"We all do."
+
+"Oh!"  He looked at Antony with interest.  "D'you know where you
+are in this case?"
+
+"I know where I'm going to be."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Put through it by Inspector Birch," said Antony with a smile.
+
+The inspector laughed genially.
+
+"Well, I'll spare you as much as I can.  Come along."
+
+They went into the library.  The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it.  Antony
+made himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be
+interested.
+
+"We'll start with the dead man," said the inspector.  "Robert Ablett,
+didn't you say?"  He took out his notebook.
+
+"Yes.  Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here."
+
+"Ah!"  He began to sharpen a pencil.  "Staying in the house?" 
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he knew
+about Robert.  This was news to him.  "I see.  Sent out of the
+country in disgrace.  What had he done?"
+
+"I hardly know.  I was only about twelve at the time.  The sort of
+age when you're told not to ask questions."
+
+"Inconvenient questions?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So you don't really know whether he had been merely wild or - or
+wicked?"
+
+"No.  Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman," added Cayley.  "Perhaps what
+might seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a man of
+the world."
+
+"I daresay, Mr. Cayley," smiled the inspector.  "Anyhow, it was more
+convenient to have him in Australia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mark Ablett never talked about him?"
+
+"Hardly ever.  He was very much ashamed of him, and - well, very
+glad he was in Australia."
+
+"Did he write Mark sometimes?"
+
+"Occasionally.  Perhaps three or four times in the last five years."
+
+"Asking for money?"
+
+"Something of the sort.  I don't think Mark always answered them.
+As far as I know, he never sent any money."
+
+"Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley.  Do you think that Mark
+was unfair to his brother?  Unduly hard on him?"
+
+"They'd never liked each other as boys.  There was never any
+affection between them.  I don't know whose fault it was in the
+first place - if anybody's."
+
+"Still, Mark might have given him a hand?"
+
+"I understand," said Cayley, "that Robert spent his whole life
+asking for hands."
+
+The inspector nodded.
+
+"I know that sort.  Well, now, we'll go on to this morning.  This
+letter that Mark got - did you see it?"
+
+"Not at the time.  He showed it to me afterwards."
+
+"Any address?"
+
+"No.  A half-sheet of rather dirty paper." 
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"I don't know.  In Mark's pocket, I expect."
+
+"Ah!" He pulled at his beard.  "Well, we'll come to that.  Can you
+remember what it said?"
+
+"As far as I remember, something like this: 'Mark, your loving
+brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia.
+I give you warning so that you will be able to conceal your
+surprise, but not I hope, your pleasure.  Expect him at three, or
+thereabouts.'"
+
+"Ah!"  The inspector copied it down carefully.  "Did you notice the
+postmark?"
+
+"London."
+
+"And what was Mark's attitude?"
+
+"Annoyance, disgust -" Cayley hesitated.
+
+"Apprehension?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly.  Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant
+interview, not of any unpleasant outcome for himself."
+
+"You mean that he wasn't afraid of violence, or blackmail, or
+anything of that sort?"
+
+"He didn't appear to be."
+
+"Right.... Now then, he arrived, you say, about three o'clock?"
+
+"Yes, about that."
+
+"Who was in the house then?"
+
+"Mark and myself, and some of the servants.  I don't know which.
+Of course, you will ask them directly, no doubt."
+
+"With your permission.  No guests?"
+
+"They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley.  "Oh, by
+the way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want to
+see them at all?  It isn't very pleasant for them now, naturally,
+and I suggested -" he turned to Antony, who nodded back to him.  "I
+understand that they want to go back to London this evening.  There's
+no objection to that, I suppose?"
+
+"You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?"
+
+"Of course.  One of them is staying on, if you would like to see
+him later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed
+the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Cayley.  Well, now then, let's go back to
+three o'clock.  Where were you when Robert arrived?"
+
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey
+had asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he had
+last seen him going up to the Temple.
+
+"She went away, and I went on with my book.  There was a step on
+the stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down.  He went into
+the office, and I went on with my book again.  I went into the
+library for a moment, to refer to another book, and when I was in
+there I heard a shot.  At least, it was a loud bang, I wasn't sure
+if it was a shot.  I stood and listened.  Then I came slowly to the
+door and looked out.  Then I went back again, hesitated a bit, you
+know, and finally decided to go across to the office, and make sure
+that it was all right.  I turned the handle of the door and found
+it was locked.  Then I got frightened, and I banged at the door, and
+shouted, and - well, that was when Mr. Gillingham arrived."  He went
+on to explain how they had found the body.
+
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr. Cayley.
+Mr. Mark, now.  You thought he was in the Temple.  Could he have
+come in, and gone up to his room, without your seeing him?"
+
+"There are back stairs.  He wouldn't have used them in the ordinary
+way, of course.  But I wasn't in the hall all the afternoon.  He
+might easily have gone upstairs without my knowing anything about
+it."
+
+"So that you weren't surprised when you saw him coming down?"
+
+"Oh, not a bit."
+
+"Well, did he say anything?"
+
+"He said, 'Robert's here?' or something of the sort.  I suppose he'd
+heard the bell, or the voices in the hall."
+
+"Which way does his bedroom face?  Could he have seen him coming
+down the drive?"
+
+"He might have, yes."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, then, I said 'Yes,' and he gave a sort of shrug, and said,
+'Don't go too far away, I might want you'; and then went in."
+
+"What did you think he meant by that?"
+
+"Well, he consults me a good deal, you know.  I'm his sort of
+unofficial solicitor in a kind of way."
+
+"This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  That's how he regarded it, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes.  How long was it before you heard the shot?"
+
+"Very soon.  Two minutes, perhaps."
+
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully.  Suddenly he said:
+
+"What is your theory of Robert's death?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You've probably seen more than I've seen," he answered.  "It's your
+job.  I can only speak as a layman - and Mark's friend."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and
+bringing a revolver with him.  He produced it almost at once, Mark
+tried to get it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and
+it went off.  Mark lost his head, finding himself there with a
+revolver in his hand and a dead man at his feet.  His one idea was
+to escape.  He locked the door almost instinctively, and then, when
+he heard me hammering at it, went out of the window."
+
+"Y-yes.  Well, that sounds reasonable enough.  What do you say, Mr.
+Gillingham?"
+
+"I should hardly call it 'reasonable' to lose your head," said Antony,
+getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+
+"Well, you know what I mean.  It explains things."
+
+"Oh, yes.  Any other explanation would make them much more complicated."
+
+"Have you any other explanation?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr. Cayley?
+ - anything that he left out after you arrived here?"
+
+"No, thanks.  He described it all very accurately."
+
+"Ab!  Well now, about yourself.  You're not staying in the house, I
+gather?"
+
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+
+"Yes.  Did you hear the shot?"
+
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening.  "Yes.  Just as I
+came in sight of the house.  It didn't make any impression at the
+time, but I remember it now.
+
+"Where were you then?"
+
+"Coming up the drive.  I was just in sight of the house."
+
+"Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?"
+
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+
+"Nobody," he said.  "No."
+
+"You're certain of that?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could
+be suspected of a mistake.
+
+"Thank you.  You're at 'The George,' if I want you?"
+
+"Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest," explained
+Cayley.
+
+"Good.  Well now, about these servants?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+
+
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door.
+
+"Well, you won't want me, I suppose, inspector," he said.
+
+"No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham.  You'll be about, of course?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+The inspector hesitated.
+
+"I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone.
+You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get
+alarmed.  I expect I can get at the truth better by myself."
+
+"Oh, quite so.  In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me.  I
+feel rather responsible towards these guests of ours.  Although Mr.
+Gillingham very kindly -"  He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at
+the door, and left his sentence unfinished.
+
+"Ah, that reminds me," said the inspector.  "Didn't you say that
+one of your guests - Mr. Beverley was it? - a friend of Mr.
+Gillingham's, was staying on?" 
+
+"Yes; would you like to see him?"
+
+"Afterwards, if I may."
+
+"I'll warn him.  I shall be up in my room, if you want me.  I have
+a room upstairs where I work - any of the servants will show you.
+Ah, Stevens, Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering.  The
+housekeeper's room had heard something of the news by this time, and
+Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the staff
+exactly what he had said, and what she had said.  The details were
+not quite established yet, but this much at least was certain: that
+Mr. Mark's brother had shot himself and spirited Mr. Mark away, and
+that Audrey had seen at once that he was that sort of man when she
+opened the door to him.  She had passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens.
+And Mrs. Stevens - if you remember, Audrey - had always said that
+people didn't go away to Australia except for very good reasons.
+Elsie agreed with both of them, but she had a contribution of her
+own to make.  She had actually heard Mr. Mark in the office,
+threatening his brother.
+
+"You mean Mr. Robert," said the second parlourmaid.  She had been
+having a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang.  In
+fact, it had woken her up - just like something going off, it was.
+
+"It was Mr. Mark's voice," said Elsie firmly.
+
+"Pleading for mercy," said an eager-eyed kitchenmaid hopefully from
+the door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing that she
+had not given her presence away.  But it was hard to listen in
+silence when she knew so well from her novelettes just what happened
+on these occasions.
+
+"I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind," said Mrs.
+Stevens.  "Well, Elsie?"
+
+"He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, 'It's my turn now,'
+he said, triumphant-like."
+
+"Well, if you think that's a threat, dear, you're very particular,
+I must say."
+
+But Audrey remembered Elsie's words when she was in front of
+Inspector Birch.  She gave her own evidence with the readiness of
+one who had already repeated it several times, and was examined and
+cross-examined by the inspector with considerable skill.  The
+temptation to say, "Never mind about what you said to him," was
+strong, but he resisted it, knowing that in this way he would
+discover best what he said to her.  By this time both his words and
+the looks he gave her were getting their full value from Audrey,
+but the general meaning of them seemed to be well-established.
+
+"Then you didn't see Mr. Mark at all"
+
+"No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room.  Or
+come in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going out by
+the back."
+
+"Yes.  Well, I think that's all that I want to know, thank you very
+much.  Now what about the other servants?"
+
+"Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together," said Audrey
+eagerly.  "He was saying - Mr. Mark, I mean -"
+
+"Ah!  Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself.  Who is
+Elsie, by the way?"
+
+"One of the housemaids.  Shall I send her to you, sir?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message.  It interrupted a few
+remarks from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie's conduct that afternoon which
+were (Elsie thought) much better interrupted.  In Mrs. Stevens'
+opinion any crime committed that afternoon in the office was as
+nothing to the double crime committed by the unhappy Elsie.
+
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to have
+said nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon.  She was
+bad at concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at discovering
+it.  Elsie knew perfectly well that she had no business to come down
+the front stairs, and it was no excuse to say that she happened to
+come out of Miss Norris' room just at the head of the stairs, and
+didn't think it would matter, as there was nobody in the hall, and
+what was she doing anyhow in Miss Norris' room at that time?
+Returning a magazine?  Lent by Miss Norris, might she ask?  Well,
+not exactly lent.  Really, Elsie! - and this in a respectable house!
+In vain for poor Elsie to plead that a story by her favourite author
+was advertised on the cover, with a picture of the villain falling
+over the cliff.  "That's where you'll go to, my girl, if you aren't
+careful," said Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch.  All that interested him was that she was passing
+through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+
+"And stopped to listen?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody really
+understood her.  "I was just passing through the hall, just as you
+might have been yourself, and not supposing they was talking secrets,
+didn't think to stop my ears, as no doubt I ought to have done."
+And she sniffed slightly.
+
+"Come, come," said the inspector soothingly, "I didn't mean to
+suggest -"
+
+"Everyone is very unkind to me," said Elsie between sniffs, "and
+there's that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they'd have been,
+if it had been me, to have spoken to me as they have done this day."
+
+"Nonsense, we're going to be very proud of you.  I shouldn't be
+surprised if your evidence were of very great importance.  Now then,
+what was it you heard?  Try to remember the exact words."
+
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+
+"Yes, but who said it?"
+
+"Mr. Robert."
+
+"How do you know it was Mr. Robert?  Had you heard his voice before?"
+
+"I don't take it upon myself to say that I had had any acquaintance
+with Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn't Mr. Mark, nor yet Mr.
+Cayley, nor any other of the gentlemen, and Miss Stevens had shown
+Mr. Robert into the office not five minutes before -"
+
+"Quite so," said the inspector hurriedly.  "Mr. Robert, undoubtedly.
+Working in a passage?"
+
+"That was what it sounded like, sir."
+
+"H'm.  Working a passage over - could that have been it?"
+
+"That's right, sir," said Elsie eagerly.  "He'd worked his passage
+over."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then Mr. Mark said loudly - sort of triumphant-like - 'It's my
+turn now.  You wait.'"
+
+"Triumphantly?"
+
+"As much as to say his chance had come."
+
+"And that's all you heard?"
+
+"That's all, sir - not standing there listening, but just passing
+through the hall, as it might be any time."
+
+"Yes.  Well, that's really very important, Elsie.  Thank you."
+
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen.  She
+was ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own.  There was
+a point which was puzzling him.  He went through the hall to the
+front of the house and stood at the open door, looking out on to
+the drive.  He and Cayley had run round the house to the left.
+Surely it would have been quicker to have run round to the right?
+The front door was not in the middle of the house, it was to the
+end.  Undoubtedly they went the longest way round.  But perhaps
+there was something in the way, if one went to the right - a wall,
+say.  He strolled off in that direction, followed a path round the
+house and came in sight of the office windows.  Quite simple, and
+about half the distance of the other way.  He went on a little
+farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in windows.
+It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage.  At the end
+of the passage was another door.  He opened it and found himself
+in the hall again.
+
+"And, of course, that's the quickest way of the three," he said to
+himself.  "Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the left
+and there you are.  Instead of which, we ran the longest way round
+the house.  Why?  Was it to give Mark more time in which to escape?
+Only, in that case - why run?  Also, how did.  Cayley know then
+that it was Mark who was trying to escape?  If he had guessed -
+well, not guessed, but been afraid - that one had shot the other,
+it was much more likely that Robert had shot Mark.  Indeed, he had
+admitted that this was what he thought.  The first thing he had
+said when he turned the body over was, 'Thank God!  I was afraid it
+was Mark.'  But why should he want to give Robert time in which to
+get away?  And again - why run, if he did want to give him time?"
+
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and
+sat down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+
+"Now then," he said, "let's go through Cayley's mind carefully,
+and see what we get."
+
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the office.
+The servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes on with his
+book.  Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to stand by in case
+he is wanted, and goes to meet his brother.  What does Cayley
+expect?  Possibly that he won't be wanted at all; possibly that his
+advice may be wanted in the matter, say, of paying Robert's debts,
+or getting him a passage back to Australia; possibly that his
+physical assistance may be wanted to get an obstreperous Robert out
+of the house.  Well, he sits there for a moment, and then goes into
+the library.  Why not?  He is still within reach, if wanted.
+Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot.  A pistol-shot is the last noise
+you expect to hear in a country-house; very natural, then, that for
+the moment he would hardly realize what it was.  He listens - and
+hears nothing more.  Perhaps it wasn't a pistol-shot after all.
+After a moment or two he goes to the library door again.  The
+profound silence makes him uneasy now.  Was it a pistol-shot?
+Absurd!  Still - no harm in going into the office on some excuse,
+just to reassure himself.  So he tries the door - and finds it
+locked!
+
+What are his emotions now?  Alarm, uncertainty.  Something is
+happening.  Incredible though it seems, it must have been a
+pistol-shot.  He is banging at the door and calling out to Mark,
+and there is no answer.  Alarm - yes.  But alarm for whose safety?
+Mark's, obviously.  Robert is a stranger; Mark is an intimate
+friend.  Robert has written a letter that morning, the letter of
+a man in a dangerous temper.  Robert is the tough customer; Mark
+the highly civilized gentleman.  If there has been a quarrel, it
+is Robert who has shot Mark.  He bangs at the door again.
+
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley's
+conduct had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment,
+Cayley had lost his head.  Anybody else might have done the same.
+But, as soon as Antony suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw that
+that was the obvious thing to do.  So he leads the way to the
+windows - the longest way.
+
+Why?  To give the murderer time to escape?  If he had thought then
+that Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes.  But he thinks that Robert
+is the murderer.  If he is not hiding anything, he must think so.
+Indeed he says so, when he sees the body; "I was afraid it was Mark,"
+he says, when he finds that it is Robert who is killed.  No reason,
+then, for wishing to gain time.  On the contrary, every instinct
+would urge him to get into the room as quickly as possible, and seize
+the wicked Robert.  Yet he goes the longest way round.  Why?  And
+then, why run?
+
+"That's the question," said Antony to himself, as he filled his
+pipe, "and bless me if I know the answer.  It may be, of course,
+that Cayley is just a coward.  He was in no hurry to get close to
+Robert's revolver, and yet wanted me to think that he was bursting
+with eagerness.  That would explain it, but then that makes Cayley
+out a coward.  Is he?  At any rate he pushed his face up against
+the window bravely enough.  No, I want a better answer than that."
+
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking.  There were
+one or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to be
+taken out and looked at.  For the moment he left them undisturbed.
+They would come back to him later when he wanted them.
+
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+
+"I was wanting a new profession," he thought, "and now I've found
+it.  Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound.  I shall begin
+to-day."
+
+Whatever Antony Gillingham's other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and
+quickly.  And this clear brain of his had already told him that he
+was the only person in the house at that moment who was unhandicapped
+in the search for truth.  The inspector had arrived in it to find a
+man dead and a man missing.  It was extremely probable, no doubt,
+that the missing man had shot the dead man.  But it was more than
+extremely probable, it was almost certain that the inspector would
+start with the idea that this extremely probable solution was the
+one true solution, and that, in consequence, he would be less
+disposed to consider without prejudice any other solution.  As
+regards all the rest of them - Cayley, the guests, the servants
+- they also were prejudiced; in favour of Mark (or possibly, for
+all he knew, against Mark); in favour of, or against, each other;
+they had formed some previous opinion, from what had been said that
+morning, of the sort of man Robert was.  No one of them could
+consider the matter with an unbiased mind.
+
+But Antony could.  He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing about
+Robert.  He had seen the dead man before he was told who the dead
+man was.  He knew that a tragedy had happened before he knew that
+anybody was missing.  Those first impressions, which are so vitally
+important, had been received solely on the merits of the case; they
+were founded on the evidence of his senses, not on the evidence of
+his emotions or of other people's senses.  He was in a much better
+position for getting at the truth than was the inspector.
+
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector
+Birch a slight injustice.  Birch was certainly prepared to believe
+that Mark had shot his brother.  Robert had been shown into the
+office (witness Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert (witness Cayley);
+Mark and Robert had been heard talking (witness Elsie); there was a
+shot (witness everybody); the room had been entered and Robert's
+body had been found (witness Cayley and Gillingham).  And Mark was
+missing.  Obviously, then, Mark had killed his brother: accidentally,
+as Cayley believed, or deliberately, as Elsie's evidence seemed to
+suggest.  There was no point in looking for a difficult solution to
+a problem, when the easy solution had no flaw in it.  But at the
+same time Birch would have preferred the difficult solution, simply
+because there was more credit attached to it.  A "sensational" arrest
+of somebody in the house would have given him more pleasure than a
+commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett across country.  Mark must be
+found, guilty or not guilty.  But there were other possibilities.
+It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the time when
+he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector, the
+inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon the
+possibilities in connexion with Mr. Gillingham.  Was it only a
+coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did?
+And Mr. Beverley's curious answers when asked for some account of
+his friend.  An assistant in a tobacconist's, a waiter!  An odd
+man, Mr. Gillingham, evidently.  It might be as well to keep an eye
+on him.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Outside Or Inside?
+
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their different
+manner.  The Major, gruff and simple: "If you want me, command me.
+Anything I can do -  Good-bye"; Betty, silently sympathetic, with
+everything in her large eyes which she was too much overawed to tell;
+Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did not know what to say, but
+apparently finding plenty; and Miss Norris, crowding so much into
+one despairing gesture that Cayley's unvarying "Thank you very much"
+might have been taken this time as gratitude for an artistic
+entertainment.
+
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells (with
+a special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered out to
+join Antony on his garden seat.
+
+"Well, this is a rum show," said Bill as he sat down.
+
+"Very rum, William."
+
+"And you actually walked right into it?"
+
+"Right into it," said Antony.
+
+"Then you're the man I want.  There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn't keep to
+the point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it
+is, but kept asking me questions about where I'd met you first, and
+all sorts of dull things like that.  Now, what really happened?"
+
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already
+told the inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with
+appropriate "Good Lords" and whistles.
+
+"I say, it's a bit of a business, isn't it?  Where do I come in,
+exactly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through
+it by that inspector as if I knew all about it - what's the idea?"
+
+Antony smiled at him.
+
+"Well, there's nothing to worry about, you know.  Naturally Birch
+wanted to see one of you so as to know what you'd all been doing all
+day.  And Cayley was nice enough to think that you'd be company for
+me, as I knew you already.  And well, that's all."
+
+"You're staying here, in the house?" said Bill eagerly.  "Good man.
+That's splendid."
+
+"It reconciles you to the departure of some of the others?"
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway," he murmured.
+
+"I congratulate you.  I liked her looks.  And that grey dress.  A
+nice comfortable sort of woman."
+
+"You fool, that's her mother."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon.  But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than she
+does just now.  So try and put up with me."
+
+"I say, do you really?" said Bill, rather flattered.  He had a great
+admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by him.
+
+"Yes.  You see, things are going to happen here soon."
+
+"Inquests and that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, perhaps something before that.  Hallo, here comes Cayley."
+
+ Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big,
+heavy-shouldered man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven, ugly
+faces which can never quite be called plain.  "Bad luck on 'Cayley,"
+said Bill.  "I say, ought I to tell him how sorry I am and all that
+sort of thing?  It seems so dashed inadequate."
+
+"I shouldn't bother," said Antony.
+
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+
+"We can make room for you," said Bill, getting up.
+
+"Oh, don't bother, thanks.  I just came to say," he went on to
+Antony, "that naturally they've rather lost their heads in the
+kitchen, and dinner won't be till half-past eight.  Do just as you
+like about dressing, of course.  And what about your luggage?"
+
+"I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and see
+about it."
+
+"The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the
+station."
+
+"It's very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself, anyhow,
+to pack up and pay my bill.  Besides, it's a good evening for a walk.
+If you wouldn't mind it, Bill?"
+
+"I should love it."
+
+"Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I'll send the car round for
+it later."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay.  Antony wondered
+whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon's happenings, or whether
+it was the one subject he wished to avoid.  To break the silence he
+asked carelessly if the inspector had gone.
+
+Cayley nodded.  Then he said abruptly, "He's getting a warrant for
+Mark's arrest."
+
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a shrug
+of the shoulders, "Well, he was bound to do that, wasn't he?  It
+doesn't follow that well, it doesn't mean anything.  They naturally
+want to get hold of your cousin, innocent or guilty."
+
+"Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?" said Cayley, looking at
+him steadily.
+
+"Mark?  It's absurd," said Bill impetuously.
+
+"Bill's loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley."
+
+"And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?"
+
+"Exactly.  So perhaps I might be too frank."
+
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on the
+seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his chin on
+his hands, gazing at the ground.
+
+"I want you to be quite frank," he said at last.  "Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned.  So I want to know how my
+suggestion strikes you who have no prejudices either way.
+
+"Your suggestion?"
+
+"My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely
+accidental as I told the inspector."
+
+Bill looked up with interest.
+
+"You mean that.  Robert did the hold-up business," he said, "and
+there was a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and then
+Mark lost his head and bolted?  That sort of idea?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that seems all right."  He turned to Antony.  "There's nothing
+wrong with that, is there?  It's the most natural explanation to
+anyone who knows Mark."
+
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+
+"I suppose it is," he said slowly.  "But there's one thing that
+worries me rather."
+
+"What's that?" Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+
+"The key."
+
+"The key?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony.  "What about the key?"
+he asked.
+
+"Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered.  Suppose Robert
+was killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and thought
+of nothing but getting away before anyone could see him.  Well,
+very likely he'd lock the door and put the key in his pocket.  He'd
+do it without thinking, just to gain a moment's time.
+
+"Yes, that's what I suggest.
+
+"It seems sound enough," said Bill.  "Sort of thing you'd do without
+thinking.  Besides, if you are going to run away, it gives you more
+of a chance."
+
+"Yes, that's all right if the key is there.  But suppose it isn't
+there?"
+
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact,
+startled them both.  They looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Cayley.
+
+"Well, it's just a question of where people happen to keep their
+keys.  You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock your
+door in case anybody comes wandering in when you've only got one
+sock and a pair of braces on.  Well, that's natural enough.  And if
+you look round the bedrooms of almost any house, you'll find the
+keys all ready, so that you can lock yourself in at a moment's
+notice.  But downstairs people don't lock themselves in.  It's
+really never done at all.  Bill, for instance, has never locked
+himself into the dining-room in order to be alone with the sherry.
+On the other hand, all women, and particularly servants, have a
+horror of burglars.  And if a burglar gets in by the window, they
+like to limit his activities to that particular room.  So they
+keep the, keys on the outside of the doors, and lock the doors
+when they go to bed."  He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and
+added, "At least, my mother always used to."
+
+"You mean," said Bill excitedly, "that the key was on the outside
+of the door when Mark went into the room?"
+
+"Well, I was just wondering."
+
+"Have you noticed the other rooms the billiard-room, and library,
+and so on?" said Cayley.
+
+"I've only just thought about it while I've been sitting out here.
+You live here haven't you ever noticed them?"
+
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+
+"It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can't say that I have."
+He turned to Bill.  "Have you?"
+
+"Good Lord, no.  I should never worry about a thing like that."
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," laughed Antony.  "Well, we can have a look
+when we go in.  If the other keys are outside, then this one was
+probably outside too, and in that case well, it makes it more
+interesting."
+
+Cayley said nothing.  Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then said,
+"Does it make much difference?"
+
+"It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there.  Take
+your accidental theory and see where you get to.  No instinctive
+turning of the key now, is there?  He's got to open the door to get
+it, and opening the door means showing his head to anybody in the
+hall - his cousin, for instance, whom he left there two minutes ago.
+Is a man in Mark's state of mind, frightened to death lest he should
+be found with the body, going to do anything so foolhardy as that?"
+
+"He needn't have been afraid of me," said Cayley.
+
+"Then why didn't he call for you?  He knew you were about.  You
+could have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice.  But the
+whole theory of Mark's escape is that he was afraid of you and of
+everybody else, and that he had no other idea but to get out of
+the room himself, and prevent you or the servants from coming into
+it.  If the key had been on the inside, he would probably have
+locked the door.  If it were on the outside, he almost certainly
+wouldn't."
+
+"Yes, I expect you're right," said Bill thoughtfully.  "Unless he
+took the key in with him, and locked the door at once.
+
+"Exactly.  But in that case you have to build up a new theory
+entirely."
+
+"You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?"
+
+"Yes; that, certainly.  But it also seems to make Mark out an
+absolute idiot.  Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent reasons
+which neither of you know anything about, he had wished to get rid
+of his brother.  Would he have done it like that?  Just killed him
+and then run away?  Why, that's practically suicide - suicide whilst
+of unsound mind.  No.  If you really wanted to remove an undesirable
+brother, you would do it a little bit more cleverly than that.
+You'd begin by treating him as a friend, so as to avoid suspicion,
+and when you did kill him at last, you would try to make it look
+like an accident, or suicide, or the work of some other man.
+Wouldn't you?"
+
+"You mean you'd give yourself a bit of a run for your money?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean.  if you were going to do it deliberately,
+that is to say and lock yourself in before you began."
+
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea.
+With his eyes still on the ground, he said now: "I hold to my
+opinion that it was purely accidental, and that Mark lost his head
+and ran away.
+
+"But what about the key?" asked Bill.
+
+"We don't know yet that the keys were outside.  I don't at all
+agree with Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms
+are always outside the doors.  Sometimes they are, no doubt; but I
+think we shall probably find that these are inside."
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original theory
+is probably the correct one.  Having often seen them outside, I just
+wondered that's all.  You asked me to be quite frank, you know, and
+tell you what I thought.  But no doubt you're right, and we shall
+find them inside, as you say.
+
+"Even if the key was outside," went on Cayley stubbornly, "I still
+think it might have been accidental.  He might have taken it in
+with him, knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant one, and
+not wishing to be interrupted."
+
+"But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so why
+should he lock you out?  Besides, I should think that if a man were
+going to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening relation,
+the last thing he would do would be to barricade himself in with him.
+He would want to open all the doors and say, 'Get out of it'"
+
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate.  Antony gave a
+little apologetic laugh and stood up.
+
+"Well, come on, Bill," he said; "we ought to be stepping."  He held
+out a hand and pulled his friend up.  Then, turning to Cayley, he
+went on, "You must forgive me if I have let my thoughts run on
+rather.  Of course, I was considering the matter purely as an
+outsider; just as a problem, I mean, which didn't concern the
+happiness of any of my friends."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Gillingham," said Cayley, standing up too.
+"It is for you to make allowances for me.  I'm sure you will.  You
+say that you're going up to the inn now about your bag?"
+
+"Yes."  He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland
+stretching about the house.  "Let me see; it's over in that
+direction, isn't it?"  He pointed southwards.  "Can we get to the
+village that way, or must we go by the road?"
+
+"I'll show you, my boy," said Bill.
+
+"Bill will show you.  The park reaches almost as far as the village.
+Then I'll send the car round in about half an hour."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house.  Antony took hold of
+Bill's arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Portrait of a Gentleman
+
+
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the house
+and gardens well behind them.  In front of them and to the right
+the park dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest of the
+world.  A thick belt of trees on the left divided them from the main
+road.
+
+"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
+
+"Oh, rather.  Dozens of times."
+
+"I meant just here where we are now.  Or do you stay indoors and play
+billiards all the time?"
+
+"Oh lord, no!"
+
+"Well, tennis and things.  So many people with beautiful parks never
+by any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by on the
+dusty road think how lucky the owners are to have them, and imagine
+them doing all sorts of jolly things inside."  He pointed to the
+right.  "Ever been over there?"
+
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+
+"Well, not very much.  I've often been along here, of course,
+because it's the short way to the village."
+
+"Yes.... All right; now tell me something about Mark."
+
+"What sort of things?"
+
+"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being a
+perfect gentleman, or anything like that.  Cut out the Manners for
+Men, and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like staying
+with him, and how many rows your little house-party has had this
+week, and how you get on with Cayley, and all the rest of it."
+
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+
+"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
+
+"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
+
+"What fun!  I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one
+oughtn't to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and
+one's host "  He broke off a little uncertainly, and then rounded
+off his period by saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show it is.
+Good Lord!"
+
+"Well?" said Antony.  "Carry on, Mark"
+
+"What do I think of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which had
+never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind.  What did
+he think of Mark?  Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+
+"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be taken
+down by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split infinitive
+or two.  Talk about anything you like, how you like.  Well, I'll give
+you a start.  Which do you enjoy more a week-end here or at the
+Barrington's, say?"
+
+"Well; of course, that would depend -"
+
+"Take it that she was there in both cases."
+
+"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs.  "It's a
+little difficult to say," he went on.  "Of course they do you
+awfully well here."
+
+"Yes.  I don't think I know any house where things are so
+comfortable.  One's room - the food - drinks - cigars - the way
+everything's arranged:  All that sort of thing.  They look after
+you awfully well."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes."  He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him a
+new idea: "They look after you awfully well.  Well, that's just what
+it is about Mark.  That's one of his little ways.  Weaknesses. 
+Looking after you."
+
+"Arranging things for you?"
+
+"Yes.  Of course, it's a delightful house, and there's plenty to do,
+and opportunities for every game or sport that's ever been invented,
+and, as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it all, Tony,
+there's a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is on parade, as
+it were.  You've got to do as you're told."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things.  He arranges
+things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with the
+arrangement.  For instance, Betty - Miss Calladine - and I were
+going to play a single just before tea, the other day.  Tennis.
+She's frightfully hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take
+me on level.  I'm rather erratic, you know.  Mark saw us going out
+with our rackets and asked us what we were going to do.  Well, he'd
+got up a little tournament for us after tea - handicaps all
+arranged by him, and everything ruled out neatly in red and black
+ink - prizes and all - quite decent ones, you know.  He'd had the
+lawn specially cut and marked for it.  Well, of course Betty and
+I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite ready
+to play again after tea - I had to give her half-fifteen according
+to his handicap - but somehow" Bill stopped and shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"It didn't quite fit in?"
+
+"No.  It spoilt the effect of his tournament.  Took the edge off it
+just a little, I suppose he felt.  So we didn't play."  He laughed,
+and added, "It would have been as much as our place was worth to
+have played."
+
+"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
+
+"Probably.  Well, I don't know.  Not for some time, anyway."
+
+"Really, Bill?"
+
+"Oh, rather!  He's a devil for taking offence.  That Miss Norris
+did you see her? she's done for herself.  I don't mind betting what
+you like that she never comes here again."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Bill laughed to himself.
+
+"We were all in it, really - at least, Betty and I were.  There's
+supposed to be a ghost attached to the house.  Lady Anne Patten.
+Ever heard of her?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Mark told us about her at dinner one night.  He rather liked the
+idea of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that he
+doesn't believe in ghosts.  I think he wanted all of us to believe
+in her, and yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs. Calladine for
+believing in ghosts at all.  Rum chap.  Well, anyhow, Miss Norris
+- she's an actress, some actress too - dressed up as the ghost and
+played the fool a bit.  And poor Mark was frightened out of his life.
+Just for a moment, you know."
+
+"What about the others?"
+
+"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her - Miss Norris I
+mean - not to be a silly ass.  Knowing Mark.  Mrs. Calladine wasn't
+there - Betty wouldn't let her be.  As for the Major, I don't
+believe anything would frighten him."
+
+"Where did the ghost appear?"
+
+"Down by the bowling-green.  That's supposed to be its haunt, you
+know.  We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to wait
+for it.  Do you know the bowling-green?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll show it to you after dinner."
+
+"I wish you would.... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes.  Sulked for a whole day.  Well, he's just like that."
+
+"Was he angry with all of you?"
+
+"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
+
+"This morning.?"
+
+"Oh, no.  He got over it he generally does.  He's just like a child.
+That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways.  As a matter
+of fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this morning.  And
+yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Rather.  We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
+
+"Is he generally in form?"
+
+"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right way.
+He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling you and
+self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and -" Bill broke off
+suddenly.  "I say, you know, it really is the limit, talking about
+your host like
+this."
+
+"Don't think of him as your host.  Think of him as a suspected
+murderer with a warrant out against him."
+
+"Oh!  but that's all rot, you know."
+
+"It's the fact, Bill."
+
+"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it.  He wouldn't murder anybody.
+It's a funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it.
+He's got his faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that scale."
+
+"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
+
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark.  "All the same,"
+he said, "I can't believe it.  That he would do it deliberately, I
+mean."
+
+"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his head
+and run away?"
+
+Bill considered for a moment.
+
+"Yes, I really think he might, you know.  He nearly ran away when
+he saw the ghost.  Of course, that's different, rather."
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  In each case it's a question of obeying your
+instinct instead of your reason."
+
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees: Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony dropped
+behind, and further conversation was postponed until they were
+outside the boundary fence and in the high road.  The road sloped
+gently down to the village of Waldheim a few red-roofed cottages,
+and the grey tower of a church showing above the green.
+
+"Well, now," said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, "what
+about Cayley?"
+
+"How do you mean, what about him?"
+
+"I want to see him.  I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you, Bill.
+You were wonderful.  Now let's have Cayley's character.  Cayley from
+within."
+
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was not
+a blooming novelist.
+
+"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy.  Cayley's one of these heavy,
+quiet people, who might be thinking about anything.  Mark gives
+himself away.... Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
+
+"Some women like that type of ugliness."
+
+"Yes, that's true.  Between ourselves, I think there's one here who
+does.  Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left hand
+"down that way."
+
+"What's Jallands?"
+
+"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke called
+Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a widow called
+Norbury.  Mark and Cayley used to go there a good deal together.
+Miss Norbury - the girl - has been here once or twice for tennis;
+seemed to prefer Cayley to the rest of us.  But of course he hadn't
+much time for that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to
+any theatres lately.  He nearly always had something to do."
+
+"Mark kept him busy?"
+
+"Yes.  Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing
+something for him.  He was quite lost and helpless without him.
+And, funnily enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
+
+"He was fond of him?"
+
+"Yes, I should say so.  In a protective kind of way.  He'd sized
+Mark up, of course his vanity, his self-importance, his
+amateurishness and all the rest of it but he liked looking after
+him.  And he knew how to manage him."
+
+"Yes.... What sort of terms was he on with the guests - you and
+Miss Norris and all of them?"
+
+"Just polite and rather silent, you know.  Keeping himself to
+himself.  We didn't see so very much of him, except at meals.  We
+were here to enjoy ourselves, and well, he wasn't."
+
+"He wasn't there when the ghost walked?"
+
+"No.  I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the house.
+I expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told him that
+girls will be girls....  - Hallo, here we are.
+
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to
+the landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room.  It appeared that
+he had not very much packing to do, after all.  He returned his
+brushes to his bag, glanced sound to see that nothing else had been
+taken out, and went down again to settle his bill.  He had decided
+to keep on his room for a few days; partly to save the landlord and
+his wife the disappointment of losing a guest so suddenly, partly
+in case he found it undesirable later on to remain at The Red House.
+For he was taking himself seriously as a detective; indeed, he took
+himself seriously (while getting all the fun out of it which was
+possible) at every new profession he adopted; and he felt that
+there might come a time after the inquest, say when he could not
+decently remain at The Red House as a guest, a friend of Bill's,
+enjoying the hospitality of Mark or Cayley, whichever was to be
+regarded as his host, without forfeiting his independent attitude
+towards the events of that afternoon.  At present he was staying
+in the house merely as a necessary witness, and, since he was there,
+Cayley could not object to him using his eyes; but if, after the
+inquest, it appeared that there was still work for a pair of
+independent and very keen eyes to do, then he must investigate,
+either with his host's approval or from beneath the roof of some
+other host; the landlord of "The George," for instance, who had no
+feelings in the matter.
+
+For of one thing Antony was certain.  Cayley knew more than he
+professed to know.  That is to say, he knew more than he wanted
+other people to know he knew.  Antony was one of the "other people";
+if, therefore, he was for trying to find out what it was that
+Cayley knew, he could hardly expect Cayley's approval of his
+labours.  It would be "The George," then, for Antony after the
+inquest.
+
+What was the truth?  Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley, even
+though he were hiding something.  All that could be said against
+him at the moment was that he had gone the longest way round to
+get into the locked office  and that this did not fit in with what
+he had told the inspector.  But it did fit in with the theory that
+he had been an accessory after the event, and that he wanted (while
+appearing to be in a hurry) to give his cousin as much time as
+possible in which to escape.  That might not be the true solution,
+but it was at least a workable one.  The theory which he had
+suggested to the inspector was not.
+
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which
+Antony could consider all these matters from within The Red House.
+The car was at the door.  He got in with Bill, the landlord put
+his bag on the front seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove
+back.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+"Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+
+
+Anthony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
+blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for
+dinner, and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze
+out of the window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning,
+as he turmed over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen
+that day.  He was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently
+smoothing down his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill
+shouted an "Hallo!" through the door, and came in.
+
+"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
+
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
+
+"Where's Mark?" he said.
+
+"Mark?  You mean Cayley."
+
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh.  "Yes, I mean Cayley.
+Is he down?  I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill."  He got up from the
+bed and went on briskly with his dressing.  "Oh, by the way," said
+Bill, taking his place on the bed, "your idea about the keys is a
+wash-out."
+
+"Why, how do you mean?"
+
+"I went down just now and had a look at them.  We were asses not to
+have thought of it when we came in.  The library key is outside, but
+all the others are inside."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
+
+"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
+
+"Bother!  I hoped you'd forgotten.  Well, that knocks your theory on
+the head, doesn't it?"
+
+"I never had a theory.  I only said that if they were outside, it
+would probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in
+that case Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
+
+"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything.  Some were outside
+and some inside, and there you are.  It makes it much less exciting.
+When you were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen
+on the idea of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him."
+
+"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
+"Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
+
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall.  He made some polite inquiry
+as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
+conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
+
+"You were quite right about the keys," said Bill, during a pause.  He
+was less able than the other two, perhaps because he was younger than
+they, to keep away from the subject which was uppermost in the minds
+of them all.
+
+"Keys?" said Cayley blankly.
+
+"We were wondering whether they were outside or inside."
+
+"Oh!  oh, yes!"  He looked slowly round the hall, at the different
+doors, and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony.  "We both seem to
+have been right, Mr. Gillingham.  So we don't get much farther."
+
+"No." He gave a shrug.  "I just wondered, you know.  I thought it
+was worth mentioning."
+
+"Oh, quite.  Not that you would have convinced me, you know.  Just
+as Elsie's evidence doesn't convince me."
+
+"Elsie?" said Bill excitedly.  Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+
+"One of the housemaids," explained Cayley.  "You didn't hear what
+she told the inspector?  Of course, as I told Birch, girls of that
+class make things up, but he seemed to think she was genuine."
+
+"What was it?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door
+that afternoon.
+
+"You were in the library then, of course," said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other.  "She might have gone through the hall
+without your hearing."
+
+"Oh, I've no doubt she was there, and heard voices.  Perhaps heard
+those very words.  But -"  He broke off, and then added impatiently,
+"It was accidental.  I know it was accidental.  What's the good of
+talking as if Mark was a murderer?"  Dinner was announced at that
+moment, and as they went in, he added, "What's the good of talking
+about it at all, if it comes to that?"
+
+"What, indeed?" said Antony, and to Bill's great disappointment they
+talked of books and politics during the meal.
+
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars were
+alight.  He had business to attend to, as was natural.  Bill would
+look after his friend.  Bill was only too willing.  He offered to
+beat Antony at billiards, to play him at piquet, to show him the
+garden by moonlight, or indeed to do anything else with him that
+he required.
+
+"Thank the Lord you're here," he said piously.  "I couldn't have
+stood it alone."
+
+"Let's go outside," suggested Antony.  "It's quite warm.  Somewhere
+where we can sit down, right away from the house.  I want to talk
+to you."
+
+"Good man.  What about the bowling-green?"
+
+"Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren't you?  Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?"
+
+"Rather.  The ideal place.  You'll see."
+
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the left.
+Coming from Waldheim, Antony had approached the house that afternoon
+from the other side.  The way they were going now would take them
+out at the opposite end of the park, on the high road to Stanton, a
+country town some three miles away.  They passed by a gate and a
+gardener's lodge, which marked the limit of what auctioneers like
+to call "the ornamental grounds of the estate," and then the open
+park was before them.
+
+"Sure we haven't missed it?" said Antony.  The park lay quietly in
+the moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little way ahead
+of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated always as they
+advanced.
+
+"Rum, isn't it?" said Bill.  "An absurd place for a bowling green, but
+ I suppose it was always here."
+
+"Yes, but always where?  It's short enough for golf, perhaps, but
+ - Hallo!"
+
+They had come to the place.  The road bent round to the right, but
+they kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty yards, and
+there in front of them was the green.  A dry ditch, ten feet wide
+and six feet deep, surrounded it, except in the one place where the
+path went forward.  Two or three grass steps led down to the green,
+on which there was a long wooden beach for the benefit of spectators.
+
+"Yes, it hides itself very nicely," said Antony.  "Where do you keep
+the bowls?"
+
+"In a sort of summer house place.  Round here."
+
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it a low
+wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+
+"H'm.  Jolly view."
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"Nobody sits there.  It's just for keeping things out of the rain."
+
+They finished their circuit of the green "Just in case anybody's in
+the ditch," said Antony and then sat down on the bench.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, "We are alone.  Fire ahead."
+
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little.  Then he took his pipe out
+of his mouth and turned to his friend.
+
+"Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?" he asked.
+
+"Watson?"
+
+"Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one.  Are you prepared to have quite
+obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions, to give me
+chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant discoveries of your
+own two or three days after I have made them myself all that kind
+of thing?  Because it all helps."
+
+"My dear Tony," said Bill delightedly, "need you ask?"  Antony said
+nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, "I perceive from the
+strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had strawberries for
+dessert.  Holmes, you astonish me.  Tut, tut, you know my methods.
+Where is the tobacco?  The tobacco is in the Persian slipper.  Can
+I leave my practice for a week?  I can."
+
+Antony smiled and went on smoking.  After waiting hopefully for a
+minute or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+
+"Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything.  Also whom do you suspect?"
+
+Antony began to talk.
+
+"Do you remember," he said, "one of Holmes's little scores over
+Watson about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging?
+Poor old Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but he
+had never thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted them
+as a matter of course, and knew that there were seventeen.  And
+that was supposed to be the difference between observation and
+non-observation.  Watson was crushed again, and Holmes appeared to
+him more amazing than ever.  Now, it always seemed to me that in
+that matter Holmes was the ass, and Watson the sensible person.
+What on earth is the point of keeping in your head an unnecessary
+fact like that?  If you really want to know at any time the number
+of steps to your lodging, you can ring up your landlady and ask
+her.  I've been up and down the steps of the club a thousand times,
+but if you asked me to tell you at this moment how many steps there
+are I couldn't do it.  Could you?"
+
+"I certainly couldn't," said Bill.
+
+"But if you really wanted to know," said Antony casually, with a
+sudden change of voice, "I could find out for you without even
+bothering to ring up the hall-porter."
+
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club steps,
+but he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know how many
+they were.
+
+"Right," said Antony.  "I'll find out."
+
+He closed his eyes.
+
+"I'm walking up St James' Street," he said slowly.  "Now I've come
+to the club and I'm going past the smoking-room windows-one-two
+three four.  Now I'm at the steps.  I turn in and begin going up
+them.  One two three-four-five six, then a broad step; six seven
+eight nine, another broad step; nine ten eleven.  Eleven I'm inside.
+Good morning, Rogers.  Fine day again."  With a little start he
+opened his eyes and came back again to his present surroundings.
+He turned to Bill with a smile.  "Eleven," he said.  Count them
+the next time you're there.  Eleven and now I hope I shall forget
+it again."
+
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+
+"That's rather hot," he said.  "Expound."
+
+"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual eye,
+or something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an uncanny
+habit of recording things unconsciously.  You know that game where
+you look at a tray full of small objects for three minutes, and then
+turn away and try to make a list of them.  It means a devil of a lot
+of concentration for the ordinary person, if he wants to get his
+list complete, but in some odd way I manage to do it without
+concentration at all.  I mean that my eyes seem to do it without the
+brain consciously taking any part.  I could look at the tray, for
+instance, and talk to you about golf at the same time, and still get
+my list right."
+
+"I should think that's rather a useful gift for an amateur detective.
+You ought to have gone into the profession before."
+
+"Well, it is rather useful.  It's rather surprising, you know, to a
+stranger.  Let's surprise Cayley with it, shall we?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, let's ask him -" Antony stopped and looked at Bill comically
+"let's ask him what he's going to do with the key of the office."
+
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+
+"Key of the office?" he said vaguely.  "You don't mean - Tony!  What
+do you mean?  Good God!  do you mean that Cayley -  But what about
+Mark?"
+
+"I don't know where Mark is - that's another thing I want to know
+ - but I'm quite certain that he hasn't got the key of the office
+with him.  Because Cayley's got it."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"I say," he said, almost pleadingly, "don't tell me that you can
+see into people's pockets and all that sort of thing as well."
+
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"You're the perfect Watson, Bill.  You take to it quite naturally.
+Properly speaking, I oughtn't to explain till the last chapter,
+but I always think that that's so unfair.  So here goes.  Of course,
+I don't really know that he's got it, but I do know that he had it.
+I know that when I came on him this afternoon, he had just locked
+the door and put the key in his pocket."
+
+"You mean you saw him at the time, but that you've only just
+remembered it - reconstructed it in the way you were explaining just
+now?"
+
+"No.  I didn't see him.  But I did see something.  I saw the key of
+the billiard-room."
+
+"Where?
+
+"Outside the billiard-room door."
+
+"Outside?  But it was inside when we looked just now."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Who put it there?"
+
+"Obviously Cayley."
+
+"But -"
+
+"Let's go back to this afternoon.  I don't remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without knowing.
+Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may have wondered
+subconsciously whether the key of the room next to it would fit.
+Something like that, I daresay.  Well, when I was sitting out by
+myself on that seat just before you came along, I went over the
+whole scene in my mind, and I suddenly saw the billiard-room key
+there outside.  And I began to wonder if the office-key had been
+outside too.  When Cayley came up, I told you my idea and you were
+both interested.  But Cayley was just a shade too interested.  I
+daresay you didn't notice it, but he was.
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn't
+really prove anything, because whatever side of the door the other
+keys were, Mark might have locked his own private room from the
+inside sometimes.  But I piled it on, and pretended that it was
+enormously important, and quite altered the case altogether, and
+having got Cayley thoroughly anxious about it, I told him that we
+should be well out of the way for the next hour or so, and that he
+would be alone in the house to do what he liked about it.  And, as
+I expected, he couldn't resist it.  He altered the keys and gave
+himself away entirely."
+
+"But the library key was still outside.  Why didn't he alter that?"
+
+"Because he's a clever devil.  For one thing, the inspector had
+been in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already.
+And for another -" Antony hesitated.
+
+"What?" said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+
+"It's only guesswork.  But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly upset
+about the key business.  He suddenly realized that he had been
+careless, and he hadn't got time to think it all over.  So he didn't
+want to commit himself definitely to the statement that the key was
+either outside or inside.  He wanted to leave it vague.  It was
+safest that way."
+
+"I see," said Bill slowly.
+
+But his mind was elsewhere.  He was wondering suddenly about Cayley.
+Cayley was just an ordinary man - like himself.  Bill had had little
+jokes with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of a hand at
+joking.  Bill had helped him to sausages, played tennis with him,
+borrowed his tobacco, lent him a putter.... and here was Antony
+saying that he was what?  Well, not an ordinary man, anyway.  A man
+with a secret.  Perhaps a murderer.  No, not a murderer; not
+Cayley.  That was rot, anyway.  Why, they had played tennis together.
+
+"Now then, Watson," said Antony suddenly.  "It's time you said
+something."
+
+"I say, Tony, do you really mean it?"
+
+"Mean what?"
+
+"About Cayley."
+
+"I mean what I said, Bill.  No more.
+
+"Well, what does it amount to?"
+
+"Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and
+that Cayley knows exactly how he died.  That's all.  It doesn't
+follow that Cayley killed him."
+
+"No.  No, of course it doesn't." Bill gave a sigh of relief.
+"He's just shielding Mark, what?"
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
+
+"It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let him
+down lightly.  But then I'm not, you see.
+
+"Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
+
+"Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to give
+you a simpler one afterwards.  Go on.  Only remember the key is on
+the outside of the door to start with."
+
+"Yes; well, I don't mind that.  Mark goes in to see his brother,
+and they quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was saying.
+Cayley hears the shot, and in order to give Mark time to get away,
+locks the door, puts the key in his pocket and pretends that Mark
+has locked the door, and that he can't get in.  How's that?"
+
+"Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and not
+the other way round?"
+
+"Oh!" said Bill, rather upset.  "Yes."  He thought for a moment,
+"All right.  Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and seen
+Robert on the ground."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, there you are."
+
+"And what does he say to Mark?  That it's a fine afternoon; and
+could he lend him a pocket-handkerchief?  Or does he ask him what's
+happened?"
+
+"Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
+reluctantly.
+
+"And what does Mark say?"
+
+"Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a struggle."
+
+"Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill?  Encouraging
+him to do the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do
+confess his guilt by running away!"
+
+"No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?" Bill thought again.  "Well,"
+he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd murdered his
+brother?"
+
+"That's better, Bill.  Don't be afraid of getting away from the
+accident idea.  Well then, your new theory is this.  Mark confesses
+to Cayley that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley decides, even
+at the risk of committing perjury, and getting into trouble himself,
+to help Mark to escape.  Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Well then, I want to ask you two questions.  First, is it possible,
+as I said before dinner, that any man would commit such an idiotic
+murder a murder that puts the rope so very tightly round his neck?
+Secondly, if Cayley is prepared to perjure himself for Mark (as he
+has to, anyway, now), wouldn't it be simpler for him to say that he
+was in the office all the time, and that Robert's death was
+accidental?"
+
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+
+"Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said.  "Now let's
+have yours."
+
+Antony did not answer him.  He had begun to think about something
+quite different.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.'
+
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+
+"You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill.  "What is it?"
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever as
+this."
+
+"Oh, you can't take me in!"
+
+"No....  Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill.  It
+seems to me -"
+
+"Oh, that!" Bill was profoundly disappointed.  "What on earth has
+the ghost got to do with it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Antony apologetically.  "I don't know what
+anything has got to do with it.  I was just wondering.  You shouldn't
+have brought me here if you hadn't wanted me to think about the
+ghost.  This is where she appeared, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes." Bill was distinctly short about it.
+
+"How?" 
+
+"What?"
+
+"I said, 'How?'"
+
+"How?  How do ghosts appear?  I don't know.  They just appear."
+
+"Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
+
+"Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the original
+one - Lady Anne, you know - was supposed to walk."
+
+"Oh, never mind Lady Anne!  A real ghost can do anything.  But how did
+Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of bare park?"
+
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+
+"I - I don't know," he stammered.  "We never thought of that."
+
+"You would have seen her long before, wouldn't you, if she had come
+the way we came?"
+
+"Of course we should."
+
+"And that would have spoilt it rather.  You would have had time to
+recognize her walk."
+
+Bill was interested now.
+
+"That's rather funny, you know, Tony.  We none of us thought of
+that."
+
+"You're sure she didn't come across the park when none of you were
+looking?"
+
+"Quite.  Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we
+kept looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be
+playing with our backs to her."
+
+"You and Miss Calladine were playing together?"
+
+"I say, however do you know that?"
+
+"Brilliant deductive reasoning.  Well, then you suddenly saw her?"
+
+"Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn."  He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+
+"She couldn't have been hiding in the ditch?  Do you call it the
+moat, by the way?"
+
+"Mark does.  We don't among ourselves.  No, she couldn't.  Betty
+and I were here before the others, and walked round a bit.  We
+should have seen her."
+
+"Then she must have been hiding in the shed.  Or do you call it the
+summer-house?"
+
+"We had to go there for the bowls, of course.  She couldn't have
+been there."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It's dashed funny," said Bill, after an interval for thought.
+"But it doesn't matter, does it?  It has nothing to do with Robert."
+
+"Hasn't it?"
+
+"I say, has it?" said Bill, getting excited again.
+
+"I don't know.  We don't know what has, or what hasn't.  But it has
+got something to do with Miss Norris.  And Miss Norris -"  He broke
+off suddenly.
+
+"What about her?"
+
+"Well, you're all in it in a kind of way.  And if something
+unaccountable happens to one of you a day or two before something
+unaccountable happens to the whole house, one is well, interested."
+It was a good enough reason, but it wasn't the reason he had been
+on the point of giving.
+
+"I see.  Well?"
+
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+
+"Well then, let's find the way from the house by which Miss Norris
+came.
+
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+
+"By Jove!  Do you mean there's a secret passage?"
+
+"A secluded passage, anyway.  There must be."
+
+"I say, what fun!  I love secret passages.  Good Lord, and this
+afternoon I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant!  What
+a life!  Secret passages!"
+
+They made their way down into the ditch.  If an opening was to be
+found which led to the house, it would probably be on the house
+side of the green, and on the outside of the ditch.  The most obvious
+place at which to begin the search was the shed where the bowls were
+kept.  It was a tidy place as anything in Mark's establishment would
+be.  There were two boxes of croquet things, one of them with the
+lid open, as if the balls and mallets and, hoops (neatly enough put
+away, though) had been recently used; a box of bowls, a small
+lawn-mower, a roller and so forth.  A seat ran along the back of it,
+whereon the bowls-players could sit when it rained.
+
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+
+"This is where the passage ought to begin.  It doesn't sound very
+hollow, does it?"
+
+"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round
+with bent head, and tapping the other walls.  He was just too tall
+to stand upright in the shed.
+
+"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would
+save us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it.  Surely Mark
+didn't let you play croquet on his bowling-green?"  He pointed to
+the croquet things.
+
+"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather
+keen about it.  There's really nowhere else to play.  Personally I
+hate the game.  He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he liked
+calling it the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors with it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love you on Mark," he said.  "You're priceless."
+
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and then
+suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention.  For a moment he stood
+listening, with his head on one side, holding up a finger to bid
+Bill listen too.
+
+"What is it?" whispered Bill.
+
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening.  Very quietly
+he went down on his knees, and listened again.  Then he put his ear
+to the floor.  He got up and dusted himself quickly, walked across
+to Bill and whispered in his ear:
+
+"Footsteps.  Somebody coming.  When I begin to talk, back me up."
+
+Bill nodded.  Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and
+stepped firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to
+himself.  He took the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on
+the floor, said, "Oh, Lord!" and went on:
+
+"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
+
+"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
+
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+
+"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
+
+"Then what do you want to do?"
+
+"Talk."
+
+"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"There's a seat on the lawn I saw it.  Let's bring these things
+along in case we want to play, after all."
+
+"Right-o!" said Bill again.  He felt safe with that, not wishing to
+commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took out
+his pipe.
+
+"Got a match?" he said loudly.
+
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, "There'll be
+somebody listening to us.  You take the Cayley view," and then went
+on in his ordinary voice, "I don't think much of your matches, Bill,"
+and struck another.  They walked over to the seat and sat down.
+
+"What a heavenly night!" said Antony.
+
+"Ripping."
+
+"I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now."
+
+"It's a rum business."
+
+"You agree with Cayley that it was an accident?"
+
+"Yes.  You see, I know Mark."
+
+"H'm."  Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began to
+write on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked.  He said that he
+thought Mark had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and that Cayley
+knew, or anyhow guessed, this and had tried to give his cousin a
+chance of getting away.
+
+"Mind you, I think he's right.  I think it's what any of us would
+do.  I shan't give it away, of course, but somehow there are one or
+two little things which make me think that Mark really did shoot
+his brother I mean other than accidentally."
+
+"Murdered him?"
+
+"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway.  I may be wrong.  Anyway, it's
+not my business."
+
+"But why do you think so?  Because of the keys?"
+
+"Oh, the keys are a wash-out.  Still, it was a brilliant idea of
+mine, Wasn't it?  And it would have been rather a score for me if
+they had all been outside."
+
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to Bill.
+In the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could easily
+be read:
+
+"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE.  AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN ROUND
+AS IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON TALKING."
+
+"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read, "but
+you'll see that I'm right."
+
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly.  He had forgotten golf and Betty
+and all the other things which had made up his world lately.  This
+was the real thing.  This was life.  "Well," he began deliberately,
+"the whole point is that I know Mark.  Now, Mark -"
+
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into
+the ditch.  His intention was to crawl round it until the shed came
+in sight.  The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be underneath
+the shed; probably there was a trap-door of some kind in the floor.
+Whoever it was would have heard their voices, and would probably
+think it worth while to listen to what they were saying.  He might
+do this merely by opening the door a little without showing himself,
+in which case Antony would have found the entrance to the passage
+without any trouble to himself.  But when Bill turned his head and
+talked over the back of the seat, it was probable that the listener
+would find it necessary to put his head outside in order to hear,
+and then Antony would be able to discover who it was.  Moreover, if
+he should venture out of his hiding-place altogether and peep at
+them over the top of the bank, the fact that Bill was talking over
+the back of the seat would mislead the watcher into thinking that
+Antony was still there, sitting on the grass, no doubt, behind the
+seat, swinging his legs over the side of the ditch.
+
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and
+then went even more carefully along the width of it to the second
+corner.  He could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his knowledge
+of Mark's character that this, that and the other must have happened,
+and he smiled appreciatively to himself.  Bill was a great
+conspirator worth a hundred Watsons.  As he approached the second
+corner he slowed down, and did the last few yards on hands and knees.
+Then, lying at full length, inch by inch his head went round the
+corner.
+
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side of
+the ditch.  From where he lay he could see almost entirely inside it.
+Everything seemed to be as they left it.  The bowls-box, the
+lawn-mower, the roller, the open croquet-box, the -
+
+"By Jove!" said Antony to himself, "that's neat."
+
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too.  Bill was turning
+round now; his voice became more difficult to hear.  "You see what
+I mean," he was saying.  "If Cayley -"
+
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley's black head.
+
+Antony wanted to shout his applause.  It was neat, devilish neat.
+For a moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of
+croquet-ball which had appeared so dramatically out of the box, and
+then reluctantly wriggled himself back.  There was nothing to be
+gained by staying there, and a good deal to be lost, for Bill showed
+signs of running down.  As quickly as he could Antony hurried
+round the ditch and took up his place at the back of the seat.  Then
+he stood up with a yawn, stretched himself and said carelessly,
+"Well, don't worry yourself about it, Bill, old man.  I daresay
+you're right.  You know Mark, and I don't; and that's the difference.
+Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?"
+
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, "Oh,
+just let's have one game, shall we?"
+
+"Right you are," said Antony.
+
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed very
+seriously.  Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking of
+nothing but bowls.  He played with great deliberation for ten
+minutes, and then announced that he was going to bed.  Bill looked
+at him anxiously.
+
+"It's all right," laughed Antony.  "You can talk if you want to.
+Just let's put 'em away first, though."
+
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting
+the bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box.  As
+he expected, it was locked.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, as they were walking back to the house again,
+"I'm simply bursting to know.  Who was it?"
+
+"Cayley."
+
+"Good Lord!  Where?"
+
+"Inside one of the croquet-boxes."
+
+"Don't be an ass."
+
+"It's quite true, Bill."  He told the other what he had seen.
+
+"But aren't we going to have a look at it?" asked Bill, in great
+disappointment.  "I'm longing to explore.  Aren't you?"
+
+"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow.  We shall see Cayley coming
+along this way directly.  Besides, I want to get in from the other
+end, if I can.  I doubt very much if we can do it this end without
+giving ourselves away.  Look, there's Cayley."
+
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them.  When they
+were a little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+
+"I wondered where you were, he said, as he got up to them.  "I rather
+thought you might be along this way.  What about bed?"
+
+"Bed it is," said Antony.
+
+"We've been playing bowls," added Bill, "and talking, and - and
+playing bowls.  Ripping night, isn't it?"
+
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back to
+the house, to Antony.  He wanted to think.  There seemed to be no
+doubt now that Cayley was a villain.  Bill had never been familiar
+with a villain before.  It didn't seem quite fair of Cayley, somehow;
+he was taking rather a mean advantage of his friends.  Lot of funny
+people there were in the world funny people with secrets.  Look at
+Tony, that first time he had met him in a tobacconist's shop.
+Anybody would have thought he was a tobacconist's assistant.  And
+Cayley.  Anybody would have thought that Cayley was an ordinary
+decent sort of person.  And Mark.  Dash it!  one could never be sure
+of anybody.  Now, Robert was different.  Everybody had always said
+that Robert was a shady fellow.
+
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it?  What had Miss
+Norris got to do with it?  This was a question which Antony had
+already asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him now that
+he had found the answer.  As he lay in bed that night he reassembled
+his ideas, and looked at them in the new light which the events of
+the evening threw upon the dark corners in his brain.
+
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of his
+guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered.  He would want this
+for their own sake as well as for his.  But he had been a little too
+quick about suggesting it, and about seeing the suggestion carried
+out.  They had been bustled off as soon as they could be packed.
+The suggestion that they were in his hands, to go or stay as he
+wished, could have been left safely to them.  As it was, they had
+been given no alternative, and Miss Norris, who had proposed to
+catch an after-dinner train at the junction, in the obvious hope
+that she might have in this way a dramatic cross-examination at the
+hands of some keen-eyed detective, was encouraged tactfully, but
+quite firmly, to travel by the earlier train with the others.
+Antony had felt that Cayley, in the tragedy which had suddenly
+befallen the house, ought to have been equally indifferent to her
+presence or absence.  But he was not; and Antony assumed from this
+that Cayley was very much alive to the necessity for her absence.
+
+Why?
+
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand.  But the fact
+that it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was for
+this reason that he had followed up so alertly Bill's casual mention
+of her in connexion with the dressing-up business.  He felt that he
+wanted to know a little more about Miss Norris and the part she had
+played in The Red House circle.  By sheer luck, as it seemed to him,
+he had stumbled on the answer to his question.
+
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret passage.
+
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of Robert's
+death.  Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off her dramatic
+appearance as the ghost.  Possibly she had discovered it for herself;
+possibly Mark had revealed it to her secretly one day, never guessing
+that she would make so unkind a use of it later on; possibly Cayley,
+having been let into the joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how
+she could make her appearance on the bowling-green even more
+mysterious and supernatural.  One way or another, she knew about the
+secret passage.  So she must be hurried away.
+
+Why?  Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some innocent
+mention of it.  And Cayley did not want any mention of it.
+
+Why, again?  Obviously because the passage, or even the mere knowledge
+of its existence, might provide a clue.
+
+"I wonder if Mark's hiding there," thought Antony; and he went to sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Mr. Gillingham.  Talks Nonsense
+
+
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning,
+and found that his host was before him.  Cayley looked up from his
+letters and nodded.
+
+"Any word of Mr. Ablett - of Mark?" said Antony, as he poured out
+his coffee.
+
+"No.  The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon.
+
+"Oh!  Is there a lake?"
+
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley's face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+
+"Well, it's really a pond," he said, "but it was called 'the lake.'"
+
+"By Mark," thought Antony.  Aloud he said, "What do they expect to
+find?"
+
+"They think that Mark -"  He broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn't get away?  And
+knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away at all?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," said Cayley slowly.
+
+"I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run for
+his money.  After all, he had a revolver.  If he was determined not
+to be taken alive, he could always have prevented that.  Couldn't
+he have caught a train to London before the police knew anything
+about it?"
+
+"He might just have managed it.  There was a train.  They would have
+noticed him at Waldheim, of course, but he might have managed it at
+Stanton.  He's not so well-known there, naturally.  The inspector
+has been inquiring.  Nobody seems to have seen him."
+
+"There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on.  There
+was never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward who
+swear to have seen him at a dozen different places at the same time."
+
+Cayley smiled.
+
+"Yes.  That's true.  Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first."  He
+added dryly, "From what I've read of detective stories, inspectors
+always do want to drag the pond first."
+
+"Is it deep?"
+
+"Quite deep enough," said Cayley as he got up.  On his way to the
+door he stopped, and looked at Antony.  "I'm so sorry that we're
+keeping you here like this, but it will only be until to-morrow.
+The inquest is to-morrow afternoon.  Do amuse yourself how you
+like till then.  Beverley will look after you."
+
+"Thanks very much.  I shall really be quite all right."
+
+Antony went on with his breakfast.  Perhaps it was true that
+inspectors liked dragging ponds, but the question was, Did Cayleys
+like having them dragged?  Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite
+indifferent?  He certainly did not seem to be anxious, but he could
+hide his feelings very easily beneath that heavy, solid face, and
+it was not often that the real Cayley peeped out.  Just a little
+too eager once or twice, perhaps, but there was nothing to be learnt
+from it this morning.  Perhaps he knew that the pond had no secrets
+to give up.  After all, inspectors were always dragging ponds.
+
+Bill came in noisily.
+
+Bill's face was an open book.  Excitement was written all over it.
+
+"Well," he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal,
+"what are we going to do this morning?"
+
+"Not talk so loudly, for one thing," said Antony.  Bill looked about
+him apprehensively.  Was Cayley under the table, for example?  After
+last night one never knew.
+
+"Is er -" He raised his eyebrows.
+
+"No.  But one doesn't want to shout.  One should modulate the voice,
+my dear William, while breathing gently from the hips.  Thus one
+avoids those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret.  In other
+words, pass the toast."
+
+"You seem bright this morning."
+
+"I am.  Very bright.  Cayley noticed it.  Cayley said, 'Were it not
+that I have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with
+thee.  Fain would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the
+little hills.  But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector
+Birch tarries outside with his shrimping-net.  My friend William
+Beverley will attend thee anon.  Farewell, a long farewell to all
+ - thy grape-nuts.'  He then left up-centre.  Enter W. Beverley, R."
+
+"Are you often like this at breakfast?"
+
+"Almost invariably.  Said he with his mouth full.  'Exit W.
+Beverley, L."
+
+"It's a touch of the sun, I suppose," said Bill, shaking his head
+sadly.
+
+"It's the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an
+empty stomach.  Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley?
+Do you know anything about Orion's Belt, for instance?  And why
+isn't there a star called Beverley's Belt?  Or a novel?  Said he
+masticating.  Re-enter W. Beverley through trap-door."
+
+"Talking about trap-doors -"
+
+"Don't," said Antony, getting up.  "Some talk of Alexander and some
+of Hercules, but nobody talks about - what's the Latin for trap-door?
+ - Mensa a table; you might get it from that.  Well, Mr. Beverley," 
+ -and he slapped him heartily on the back as he went past him - "I
+shall see you later.  Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so far
+you have not made me laugh once.  You must try and be more amusing
+when you have finished your breakfast.  But don't hurry.  Let the
+upper mandibles have time to do the work."  With those words Mr.
+Gillingham then left the spacious apartment.
+
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air.  He
+did not know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows
+behind him; not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing;
+but within sight of Antony, who was not going to take any risks.  So
+he went on with his breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum
+fellow, and wondering if he had dreamed only of the amazing things
+which had happened the day before.
+
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe.  It was occupied
+by a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her.
+Then be remembered.
+
+"Is it Elsie?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, shy but proud.  She had no doubts as to why
+it was that she had achieved such notoriety.
+
+"It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn't it?  I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, sir."
+
+"'It's my turn now.  You wait,'" murmured Antony to himself.
+
+"Yes, sir.  Nasty-like.  Meaning to say his chance had come."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, that's what I heard, sir.  Truly."
+
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+"Yes.  I wonder.  I wonder why."
+
+"Why what, sir?"
+
+"Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being
+outside just then?"
+
+Elsie blushed.  She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said
+about it.
+
+"Quite, sir, In the general way I use the other stairs."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when she
+stopped him.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  To-morrow, I think."
+
+"Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?"
+
+"Of course.  There's nothing to be frightened of."
+
+"I did hear it, sir.  Truly."
+
+"Why, of course you did.  Who says you didn't?"
+
+"Some of the others sir Mrs. Stevens and all."
+
+"Oh, that's just because they're jealous," said Antony with a smile.
+
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at once
+the immense importance of her evidence.  To the inspector no doubt
+it had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark to have
+adopted something of a threatening attitude towards his brother.
+To Antony it had much more significance.  It was the only trustworthy
+evidence that Mark had been in the office at all that afternoon.
+
+For who saw Mark go into the office?  Only Cayley.  And if Cayley
+had been hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be
+hiding the truth about Mark's entry into the office?  Obviously all
+Cayley's evidence went for nothing.  Some of it no doubt was true;
+but he was giving it, both truth and falsehood, with a purpose.
+What the purpose was Antony did not know as yet; to shield Mark, to
+shield himself, even to betray Mark it might be any of these.  But
+since his evidence was given for his own ends, it was impossible
+that it could be treated as the evidence of an impartial and
+trustworthy onlooker.  Such, for instance, as Elsie appeared to be.
+
+Elsie's evidence, however, seemed to settle the point.  Mark had
+gone into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them both
+talking; and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of Robert....
+and the inspector was going to drag the pond.
+
+But certainly Elsie's evidence did not prove anything more than
+the mere presence of Mark in the room.  "It's my turn now; you wait."
+That was not an immediate threat; - it was a threat for the future.
+If Mark had shot his brother immediately afterwards it must have
+been an accident, the result of a struggle, say, provoked by that
+"nasty-like" tone of voice.  Nobody would say "You wait" to a man
+who was just going to be shot.  "You wait" meant "You wait, and see
+what's going to happen to you later on."  The owner of The Red House
+had had enough of his brother's sponging, his brother's blackmail;
+now it was Mark's turn to get a bit of his own back.  Let Robert
+just wait a bit, and he would see.  The conversation which Elsie
+had overheard might have meant something like this.  It couldn't
+have meant murder.  Anyway not murder of Robert by Mark.
+
+"It's a funny business," thought Antony.  "The one obvious solution
+is so easy and yet so wrong.  And I've got a hundred things in my
+head, and I can't fit them together.  And this afternoon will make
+a hundred and one.  I mustn't forget this afternoon."
+
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll.  Bill was only too
+ready.
+ 
+"Where do you want to go?" he asked.
+
+"I don't mind much.  Show me the park."
+
+"Righto."
+
+They walked out together.
+
+"Watson, old man," said Antony, as soon as they were away from the
+house, "you really mustn't talk so loudly indoors.  There was a
+gentleman outside, just behind you, all the time."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Bill, going pink.  "I'm awfully sorry.  So that's
+why you were talking such rot."
+
+"Partly, yes.  And partly because I do feel rather bright this
+morning.  We're going to have a busy day."
+
+"Are we really?  What are we going to do?"
+
+"They're going to drag the pond - beg its pardon, the lake.  Where
+is the lake?"
+
+"We're on the way to it now, if you'd like to see it."
+
+"We may as well look at it.  Do you haunt the lake much in the
+ordinary way?"
+
+"Oh, no, rather not.  There's nothing to do there."
+
+"You can't bathe?"
+
+"Well, I shouldn't care to.  Too dirty."
+
+"I see.... This is the way we came yesterday, isn't it? The way to
+the village?"
+
+"Yes.  We go off a bit to the right directly.  What are they dragging
+it for?"
+
+"Mark."
+
+"Oh, rot," said Bill uneasily.  He was silent for a little, and
+then, forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden remembrance
+of the exciting times they were having, said eagerly, "I say, when
+are we going to look for that passage?"
+
+"We can't do very much while Cayley's in the house."
+
+"What about this afternoon when they're dragging the pond?  He's
+sure to be there."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"There's something I must do this afternoon," he said.  "Of course
+we might have time for both."
+
+"Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?"
+
+"Well, I think he ought to be."
+
+"I say, is it anything rather exciting?"
+
+"I don't know.  It might be rather interesting.  I daresay I could
+do it at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three o'clock,
+somehow.  I've been specially keeping it back for then."
+
+"I say, what fun!  You do want me, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do.  Only, Bill don't talk about things inside the
+house, unless I begin.  There's a good Watson."
+
+"I won't.  I swear I won't."
+
+They had come to the pond - Mark's lake - and they walked silently
+round it.  When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the
+grass, and relit his pipe.  Bill followed his example.
+
+"Well, Mark isn't there," said Antony.
+
+"No," said Bill.  "At least, I don't quite see why you know he isn't."
+
+"It isn't 'knowing,' it's 'guessing,'" said Antony rapidly.  "It's
+much easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and if Mark
+had wanted to shoot himself in the water, with some idea of not
+letting the body be found, he'd have put big stones in his pockets,
+and the only big stones are near the water's edge, and they would
+have left marks, and they haven't, and therefore he didn't, and oh,
+bother the pond; that can wait till this afternoon.  Bill, where
+does the secret passage begin?"
+
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes.  You see, my idea is this."
+
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the passage
+was concerned in some way with the secret of Robert's death, and went
+on:
+
+"My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago the
+time when he began to get keen on croquet.  The passage came out
+into the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley's idea to put
+a croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more completely.
+You know, when once you've discovered a secret yourself, it always
+seems as if it must be so obvious to everybody else.  I can imagine
+that Mark loved having this little secret all to himself and to
+Cayley, of course, but Cayley wouldn't count  and they must have had
+great fun fixing it up, and making it more difficult for other people
+to find out.  Well then, when Miss Norris was going to dress-up,
+Cayley gave it away.  Probably he told her that she could never get
+down to the bowling-green without being discovered, and then
+perhaps showed that he knew there was one way in which she could do
+it, and she wormed the secret out of him somehow."
+
+"But this was two or three days before Robert turned up.
+
+"Exactly.  I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister about
+the passage in the first place.  It was just a little private bit of
+romance and adventure for Mark, three days ago.  He didn't even know
+that Robert was coming.  But somehow the passage has been used since,
+in connexion with Robert.  Perhaps Mark escaped that way; perhaps
+he's hiding there now.  And if so, then the only person who could give
+him away was Miss Norris.  And she of course would only do it
+innocently not knowing that the passage had anything to do with it."
+
+"So it was safer to have her out of the way?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about this end of
+it?  We can always get in at the bowling-green end."
+
+"I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly.  It will
+mean breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that we've done
+it.  You see, Bill, if we don't find anything out for ourselves in
+the next day or two, we've got to tell the police what we have found
+out, and then they can explore the passage for themselves.  But I
+don't want to do that yet."
+
+"Rather not.
+
+"So we've got to carry on secretly for a bit.  It's the only way."
+He smiled and added, "And it's much more fun."
+
+"Rather!" Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Very well.  Where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+ 
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+
+
+"There's one thing, which we have got to realize at once," said
+Antony, "and that is that if we don't find it easily, we shan't
+find it at all."
+
+"You mean that we shan't have time?"
+
+"Neither time nor opportunity.  Which is rather a consoling thought
+to a lazy person like me."
+
+"But it makes it much harder, if we can't really look properly."
+
+"Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look.  For instance, the
+passage might begin in Cayley's bedroom.  Well, now we know that it
+doesn't."
+
+"We don't know anything of the sort," protested Bill.
+
+"We - know for the purposes of.  our search.  Obviously we can't go
+tailing into Cayley's bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and
+obviously, therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we must
+assume that it doesn't begin there."
+
+"Oh, I see." Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully.  "Anyhow, it
+wouldn't begin on an upstairs floor, would it?"
+
+"Probably not.  Well, we're getting on."
+
+"You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house," said
+Bill, after more thought.  "We can't go there."
+
+"Right.  And the cellars, if there are any."
+
+"Well, that doesn't leave us much."
+
+"No.  Of course it's only a hundred-to-one chance that we find it,
+but what we want to consider is which is the most likely place of
+the few places in which we can look safely."
+
+"All it amounts to," said Bill, "is the living-rooms downstairs
+dining-room, library, hail, billiard-room and the office rooms."
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+"Well, the office is the most likely, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes.  Except for one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Well, it's on the wrong side of the house.  One would expect the
+passage to start from the nearest place to which it is going.  Why
+make it longer by going under the house first?"
+
+"Yes, that's true.  Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?"
+
+"Yes.  And the library for choice.  I mean for our choice.  There
+are always servants going into dining-rooms.  We shouldn't have much
+of a chance of exploring properly in there.  Besides, there's another
+thing to remember.  Mark has kept this a secret for a year.  Could
+he have kept it a secret in the dining-room?  Could Miss Norris have
+got into the dining-room and used the secret door just after dinner
+without being seen?  It would have been much too risky."
+
+Bill got up eagerly.
+
+"Come along," he said, "let's try the library.  If Cayley comes in,
+we can always pretend we're choosing a book."
+
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house
+with him.
+
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages.  Antony
+could never resist another person's bookshelves.  As soon as he went
+into the room, he found himself wandering round it to see what books
+the owner read, or (more likely) did not read, but kept for the air
+which they lent to the house.  Mark had prided himself on his
+library.  It was a mixed collection of books.  Books which he had
+inherited both from his father and from his patron; books which he
+had bought because he was interested in them or, if not in them, in
+the authors to whom he wished to lend his patronage; books which he
+had ordered in beautifully bound editions, partly because they
+looked well on his shelves, lending a noble colour to his rooms,
+partly because no man of culture should ever be without them; old
+editions, new editions, expensive books, cheap books a - library
+in which everybody, whatever his taste, could be sure of finding
+something to suit him.
+
+"And which is your particular fancy, Bill?" said Antony, looking
+from one shelf to another.  "Or are you always playing billiards?"
+
+"I have a look at 'Badminton' sometimes," said Bill.
+
+"It's over in that corner there."  He waved a hand.
+
+"Over here?" said Antony, going to it.
+
+"Yes."  He corrected himself suddenly.  - "Oh, no, it's not.  It's
+over there on the right now.  Mark had a grand re-arrangement of his
+library about a year ago.  It took him more than a week, he told us.
+He's got such a frightful lot, hasn't he?"
+
+"Now that's very interesting," said Antony, and he sat down and
+filled his pipe again.
+
+There was indeed a "frightful lot" of books.  The four walls of the
+library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save only
+where the door and the two windows insisted on living their own life,
+even though an illiterate one.  To Bill it seemed the most hopeless
+room of any in which to look for a secret opening.
+
+"We shall have to take every blessed book down," he said, "before
+we can be certain that we haven't missed it."
+
+"Anyway," said Antony, "if we take them down one at a time, nobody
+can suspect us of sinister designs.  After all, what does one go
+into a library for, except to take books down?"
+
+"But there's such a frightful lot."
+
+Antony's pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and walked
+leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+
+"Well, let's have a look," he said, "and see if they are so very
+frightful.  Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.'  You often read that,
+you say?"
+
+"If I read anything."
+
+"Yes." He looked down and up the shelf.  "Sport and Travel chiefly.
+I like books of travel, don't you?"
+
+"They're pretty dull as a rule."
+
+"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony,
+reproachfully.  He moved on to the next row of shelves.  "The Drama.
+The Restoration dramatists.  You can have most of them.  Still, as
+you well remark, many people seem to love them.  Shaw, Wilde,
+Robertson - I like reading plays, Bill.  There are not many people
+who do, but those who do are usually very keen.  Let us pass on."
+
+"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
+
+"We haven't.  That's why we aren't wasting any.  Poetry.  Who reads
+poetry nowadays?  Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise Lost'?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I thought not.  And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The
+Excursion' aloud to you?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, Betty Miss Calladine happens to be jolly keen
+on what's the beggar's name?"
+
+"Never mind his name.  You have said quite enough.  We pass on."
+
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+
+"Biography.  Oh, lots of it.  I love biographies.  Are you a member
+of the Johnson Club?  I bet Mark is.  'Memories of Many Courts' I'm
+sure Mrs. Calladine reads that.  Anyway, biographies are just as
+interesting as most novels, so why linger?  We pass on."  He went
+to the next shelf, and then gave a sudden whistle.  "Hallo, hallo!"
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill rather peevishly.
+
+"Stand back there.  Keep the crowd back, Bill.  We are getting
+amongst it.  Sermons, as I live.  Sermons.  Was Mark's father a
+clergyman, or does Mark take to them naturally?"
+
+"His father was a parson, I believe.  Oh, yes, I know he was."
+
+"Ah, then these are Father's books.  'Half-Hours with the Infinite'
+I must order that from the library when I get back.  'The Lost Sheep,'
+'Jones on the Trinity,' 'The Epistles of St. Paul Explained'  Oh,
+Bill, we're amongst it.  'The Narrow Way, being Sermons by the Rev.
+Theodore Ussher'  hal-LO!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"William, I am inspired.  Stand by."  He took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher's classic work, looked at it with a happy smile for
+a moment, and then gave it to Bill.
+
+"Here, hold Ussher for a bit."
+
+Bill took the book obediently.
+
+"No, give it me back.  Just go out into the hall, and see if you
+can hear Cayley anywhere.  Say 'Hallo' loudly, if you do."
+
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+
+"It's all right."
+
+"Good." He took the book out of its shelf again.  "Now then, you
+can hold Ussher.  Hold him in the left hand so.  With the right or
+dexter hand, grasp this shelf firmly so.  Now, when I say 'Pull,'
+pull gradually.  Got that?"
+
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+
+"Good."  Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout Ussher,
+and fingered the back of the shelf.  "Pull," he said.
+
+Bill pulled.
+
+"Now just go on pulling like that.  I shall get it directly.  Not
+hard, you know, but just keeping up the strain."
+
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom,
+swung gently open towards them.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill's fingers,
+replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him to the sofa
+and deposited him in it.  Standing in front of him, he bowed gravely.
+
+"Child's play, Watson," he said; "child's play."
+
+"How on earth "
+
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+
+"You don't really want it explained," he said, smacking him on the
+knee; "you're just being Watsonish.  It's very nice of you, of
+course, and I appreciate it."
+
+"No, but really, Tony."
+
+"Oh, my dear Bill!"  He smoked silently for a little, and then went
+on, "It's what I was saying just now a secret is a secret until you
+have discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered it, you wonder
+why everybody else isn't discovering it, and how it could ever have
+been a secret at all.  This passage has been here for years, with
+an opening at one end into the library, and at the other end into
+the shed.  Then Mark discovered it, and immediately he felt that
+everybody else must discover it.  So he made the shed end more
+difficult by putting the croquet-box there, and this end more
+difficult by " he stopped and looked at the other "by what, Bill?"
+
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Obviously by re-arranging his books.  He happened to take out
+'The Life of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat,' or whatever it was,
+and by the merest chance discovered the secret.  Naturally he felt
+that everybody else would be taking down 'The Life of Nelson' or
+'Three Men in a Boat.'  Naturally he felt that the secret would be
+safer if nobody ever interfered with that shelf at all.  When you
+said that the books had been re-arranged a year ago just about the
+time the croquet-box came into existence of course I guessed why.
+So I looked about for the dullest books I could find, the books
+nobody ever read.  Obviously the collection of sermon-books of a
+mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we wanted."
+
+"Yes, I see.  But why were you so certain of the particular place?"
+
+"Well, he had to mark the particular place by some book.  I thought
+that the joke of putting 'The Narrow Way' just over the entrance to
+the passage might appeal to him.  Apparently it did."
+
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times.  "Yes, that's
+very neat," he said.  "You're a clever devil, Tony."
+
+Tony laughed.
+
+"You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful."
+
+"Well, come on, then," said Bill, and he got up, and held out a hand.
+
+"Come on where?"
+
+"To explore the passage, of course."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Why ever not?"
+
+"Well, what do you expect to find there?"
+
+"I don't know.  But you seemed to think that we might find something
+that would help."
+
+"Suppose we find Mark?" said Antony quietly.
+
+."I say, do you really think he's there?"
+
+"Suppose he is?"
+
+"Well, then, there we are."
+
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his
+pipe, and turned back to Bill.  He looked at him gravely without
+speaking.
+
+"What are you going to say to him?" he said at last.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?"
+
+"I - I - well, of course, I -" began Bill, stammering, and then
+ended lamely, "Well, I don't know."
+
+"Exactly.  We've got to make up our minds, haven't we?"
+
+Bill didn't answer.  Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and
+then at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were
+trying to learn what lay behind it.  Which side was he on, if it
+came to choosing sides  Mark's or the Law's?
+
+"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo!' to him," said Antony,
+breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+
+"Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr.
+Gillingham, who is staying with you.  We were just going to have a
+game of bowls.'"
+
+"Yes, it's dashed difficult.  I don't know what to say.  I've been
+rather forgetting about Mark."  He wandered over to the window and
+looked out on to the lawns.  There was a gardener clipping the grass
+edges.  No reason why the lawn should be untidy just because the
+master of the house had disappeared.  It was going to be a hot day
+again.  Dash it, of course he had forgotten Mark.  How could he
+think of him as an escaped murderer, a fugitive from justice, when
+everything was going on just as it did yesterday, and the sun was
+shining just as it did when they all drove off to their golf, only
+twenty-four hours ago?  How could he help feeling that this was not
+real tragedy, but merely a jolly kind of detective game that he and
+Antony were playing?
+
+He turned back to his friend.
+
+"All the same," he said, "you wanted to find the passage, and now
+you've found it.  Aren't you going into it at all?"
+
+Antony took his arm.
+
+"Let's go outside again," he said.  "We can't go into it now, anyhow.
+It's too risky, with Cayley about.  Bill, I feel like you - just a
+little bit frightened.  But what I'm frightened of I don't quite know.
+Anyway, you want to go on with it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill firmly.  "We must."
+
+"Then we'll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the chance.
+And if we don't get the chance, then we'll try it to-night."
+
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+
+"Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?" asked Bill.
+
+"It's possible," said Antony.  "Either Mark or -"  He pulled himself
+up quickly.  "No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let myself think
+that not yet, anyway.  It's too horrible."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A Shadow on the Wall
+
+
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had been
+busy.  He had telegraphed to London a complete description of Mark
+in the brown flannel suit which he had last been seen wearing; he
+had made inquiries at Stanton as to whether anybody answering to
+this description had been seen leaving by the 4.20; and though the
+evidence which had been volunteered to him had been inconclusive,
+it made it possible that Mark had indeed caught that train, and had
+arrived in London before the police at the other end had been ready
+to receive him.  But the fact that it was market-day at Stanton, and
+that the little town would be more full than usual of visitors, made
+it less likely that either the departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the
+arrival of Robert by the 2.10 earlier in the afternoon, would have
+been particularly noticed.  As Antony had said to Cayley, there
+would always be somebody ready to hand the police a circumstantial
+story of the movements of any man in whom the police were interested.
+
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain.  To find out
+more about him in time for the inquest would be difficult.  All that
+was known about him in the village where he and Mark had lived as
+boys bore out the evidence of Cayley.  He was an unsatisfactory son,
+and he had been hurried off to Australia; nor had he been seen since
+in the village.  Whether there were any more substantial grounds of 
+quarrel between the two brothers than that the younger one was at home
+and well-to-do, while the elder was poor and an exile, was not known,
+nor, as far as the inspector could see, was it likely to be known
+until Mark was captured.
+
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately.  Dragging
+the pond might not help towards this, but it would certainly give
+the impression in court to-morrow that Inspector Birch was handling
+the case with zeal.  And if only the revolver with which the deed
+was done was brought to the surface, his trouble would be well
+repaid.  "Inspector Birch produces the weapon" would make an
+excellent headline in the local paper.
+
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he walked
+to the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite in the
+mood for a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and his friend,
+Mr. Beverley.  He gave them a cheerful "Good afternoon," and added
+with a smile, "Coming to help us?"
+
+"You don't really want us," said Antony, smiling back at him.
+
+"You can come if you like."
+
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+
+"You can tell me afterwards what you find," he said.  "By the way,"
+he added, "I hope the landlord at the 'George' gave me a good
+character?"
+
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+
+"Now how on earth do you know anything about that?"
+
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+
+"Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the
+Force."
+
+The inspector laughed.
+
+"Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham.  You got a clean bill.
+But I had to make certain about you.
+
+"Of course you did.  Well, I wish you luck.  But I don't think you'll
+find much at the pond.  It's rather out of the way, isn't it, for
+anybody running away?"
+
+"That's just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention to
+the pond.  However, we shan't do any harm by looking.  It's the
+unexpected that's the most likely in this sort of case."
+
+"You're quite right, Inspector.  Well, we mustn't keep you.  Good
+afternoon," and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."
+
+"Good afternoon," said Bill.
+
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent
+for so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him
+rather crossly what was the matter.
+
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"I don't know; really I don't know.  It's too devilish what I keep
+thinking.  He can't be as cold-blooded as that."
+
+"Who?"
+
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on
+which they had been sitting.  He sat there with his head in his
+hands.
+
+"Oh, I hope they find something," he murmured.  "Oh, I hope they do."
+
+"In the pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Anything, Bill; anything."
+
+Bill was annoyed.
+  
+"I say, Tony, this won't do.  You really mustn't be so damn
+mysterious.  What's happened to you suddenly?"
+
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+
+"Didn't you hear what he said?"
+
+"What, particularly?"
+
+"That it was Cayley's idea to drag the pond."
+
+"Oh!  Oh, 'I say!"  Bill was rather excited again.  "You mean that
+he's hidden something there?  Some false clue which he wants the
+police to find?"
+
+"I hope so," said Antony earnestly, "but I'm afraid -"  He stopped
+short.
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"Afraid that he hasn't hidden anything there.  Afraid that -"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What's the safest place in which to hide anything very important?"
+
+"Somewhere where nobody will look."
+
+"There's a better place than that."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Somewhere where everybody has already looked."
+
+"By Jove!  You mean that as soon as the pond has been dragged,
+Cayley will hide something there?"
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why afraid?"
+
+"Because I think that it must be something very important, something
+which couldn't easily be hidden anywhere else."
+
+"What?" asked Bill eagerly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk about it yet.  We can wait and see what
+the inspector finds.  He may find something - I don't know what - 
+something that Cayley has put there for him to find.  But if he
+doesn't, then it will be because Cayley is going to hide something
+there to-night."
+
+"What?" asked Bill again.
+
+"You will see what, Bill," said Antony; "because we shall be there."
+
+"Are we going to watch, him?"
+
+"Yes, if the inspector finds nothing."
+ 
+"That's good," said Bill.
+
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided as
+to which side he was taking.  Previous to the tragedy of yesterday
+he had got on well enough with both of the cousins, without being in
+the least intimate with either.  Indeed, of the two he preferred,
+perhaps, the silent, solid Cayley to the more volatile Mark. Cayley's
+qualities, as they appeared to Bill, may have been chiefly negative;
+but even if this merit lay in the fact that he never exposed whatever
+weaknesses he may have had, this is an excellent quality in a
+fellow-guest (or, if you like, fellow-host) in a house where one is
+continually visiting.  Mark's weaknesses, on the other hand, were
+very plain to the eye, and Bill had seen a good deal of them.
+
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning in
+regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the side of
+the Law against Cayley.  Mark, after all, had done him no harm, but
+Cayley had committed an unforgivable offence.  Cayley had listened
+secretly to a private conversation between himself and Tony.  Let
+Cayley hang, if the Law demanded it.
+
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+
+"Come along," he said.  "It's time for that job I spoke about."
+
+"The passage?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, of course.  What is it?"
+
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the office.
+
+It was three o'clock, and at three o'clock yesterday Antony and
+Cayley had found the body.  At a few minutes after three, he had
+been looking out of the window of the adjoining room, and had been
+surprised suddenly to find the door open and Cayley behind him.
+He had vaguely wondered at the time why he had expected the door
+to be shut, but he had had no time then to worry the thing out, and
+he had promised himself to look into it at his leisure afterwards.
+Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if it meant anything, he could
+have found out its meaning by a visit to the office that morning.
+But he had felt that he would be more likely to recapture the
+impressions of yesterday if he chose as far as possible the same
+conditions for his experiment.  So he had decided that three o'clock
+that afternoon should find him once more in the office,
+
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as a
+shock that there was now no body of Robert lying there between the
+two doors.  But there was a dark stain which showed where the dead
+man's head had been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he had knelt
+twenty-four hours before.
+
+"I want to go through it again," he said.  "You must be Cayley.
+Cayley said he would get some water.  I remember thinking that water
+wasn't much good to a dead man, and that probably he was only too
+glad to do anything rather than nothing.  He came back with a wet
+sponge and a handkerchief.  I suppose he got the handkerchief from
+the chest of drawers.  Wait a bit."
+
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it, pulled
+open a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors, came back
+to the office.
+
+"The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top
+right-hand drawer.  Now then, Bill, just pretend you're Cayley.
+You've just said something about water, and you get up.
+
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been kneeling
+beside his friend, got up and walked out.  Antony, as he had done on
+the previous day, looked up after him as he went.  Bill turned into
+the room on the right, opened the drawer and got the handkerchief,
+damped the sponge and came back.
+
+"Well?" he said wonderingly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"It's all different," he said.  "For one thing, you made a devil of
+a noise and Cayley didn't."
+
+"Perhaps you weren't listening when Cayley went in?"
+
+"I wasn't.  But I should have heard him if I could have heard him,
+and I should have remembered afterwards."
+
+"Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him."
+
+"Wait!"
+
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought.  It wasn't anything
+which he had heard, but something which he had seen.  He tried
+desperately hard to see it again.... He saw Cayley getting up,
+opening the door from the office, leaving it open and walking into
+the passage, turning to the door on the right, opening it, going in,
+and then -  What did his eyes see after that?  If they would only
+tell him again!  
+
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight.  "Bill, I've got it!" he
+cried.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The shadow on the wall!  I was looking at the shadow on the wall.
+Oh, ass, and ten times ass!"
+
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him.  Antony took his arm and
+pointed to the wall of the passage.
+
+"Look at the sunlight on it," he said.  "That's because you've left
+the door of that room open.  The sun comes straight in through the
+windows.  Now, I'm going to shut the door.  Look!  D'you see how
+the shadow moves across?  That's what I saw the shadow moving across
+as the door shut behind him.  Bill, go in and shut the door behind
+you quite naturally.  Quick!"
+
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+
+"I thought so!" he cried.  "I knew it couldn't have been that."
+
+"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.
+
+"Just what you would expect.  The sunlight came, and the shadow
+moved back again all in one movement."
+
+"And what happened yesterday?"
+
+"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly
+back, and there was no noise of the door being shut."
+
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+"By Jove!  You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
+afterthought and very quietly, so that you couldn't hear?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Yes.  That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went into
+the room to find the door open behind me.  You know how those doors
+with springs on them close?"
+
+"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"
+
+"Yes.  Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
+slowly they swing to well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of that
+sort of door.  By Jove!"  He got up, and dusted his knees.  "Now,
+Bill, just to make sure, go in and close the door like that.  As an
+afterthought, you know; and very quietly, so that I don't hear the
+click of it."
+
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to hear
+what had happened.
+
+"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction.  "That was
+just what I saw yesterday."  He came out of the office, and joined
+Bill in the little room.
+
+"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr.
+Cayley was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful that
+his friend Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Open Window
+
+
+Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something;
+something, perhaps, which he had found by the body, and but that
+was absurd.  In the time at his disposal, he could have done no more
+than put it away in a drawer, where it would be much more open to
+discovery by Antony than if he had kept it in his pocket.  In any
+case he would have removed it by this time, and hidden it in some
+more secret place.  Besides, why in this case bother about shutting
+the door?
+
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+
+"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.
+
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked.  "Did he ever
+change down here?"
+
+"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world.  He
+just kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect.  When
+you and I go from London to the country we carry our clothes about
+with us.  Mark never did.  In his flat in London he had everything
+all over again which he has here.  It was a hobby with him,
+collecting clothes.  If he'd had half a dozen houses, they would all
+have been full of a complete gentleman's town and country outfit."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
+next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a more
+comfortable coat."
+
+"I see.  Yes."  He was walking round the room as he answered, and
+he lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash
+basin and glanced in.  "He seems to have come in here for a collar
+lately."
+
+Bill peered in.  There was one collar at the bottom of the basket.
+
+"Yes.  I daresay he would," he agreed.  "If he suddenly found that
+the one he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit dirty, or
+something.  He was very finicking."
+
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+
+"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after
+examining it carefully.  "It couldn't very well be cleaner."  He
+dropped it back again.  "Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"
+
+"Oh, yes, rather."
+
+"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"
+
+"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill.  "That's what
+I don't understand.  You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."
+
+"No.  So it follows that I might have heard him.  He was going to
+do something which he didn't want me to hear."
+
+"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Yes; but what?"
+
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+
+"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted by
+the effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked out.
+Then, struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said, "Do you
+think I had better go up to the pond to make sure that they're still
+at it?  Because "
+
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.
+
+"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried.  "Oh, most super-excellent of
+Watsons!  Oh, you lamb, you blessing!  Oh, Gillingham, you
+incomparable ass!"
+
+"What on earth -"
+
+"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.
+
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something.  As
+it said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+
+"He was opening the window!  " cried Antony.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Cayley, of course."  Very gravely and slowly he expounded.  "He
+came in here in order to open the window.  He shut the door so that
+I shouldn't hear him open the window.  He opened the window.  I
+came in here and found the window open.  I said, 'This window is
+open.  My amazing powers of analysis tell me that the murderer must
+have escaped by this window.' 'Oh,' said Cayley, raising his eyebrows.
+'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you must be right.'  Said I proudly, 'I
+am.  For the window is open,' I said.  Oh, you incomparable ass!"
+
+He understood now.  It explained so much that had been puzzling him.
+
+He tried to put himself in Cayley's place - Cayley, when Antony had
+first discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let me in!"
+Whatever had happened inside the office, whoever had killed Robert,
+Cayley knew all about it, and knew that Mark was not inside, and had
+not escaped by the window.  But it was necessary to Cayley's plans
+ - to Mark's plans if they were acting in concert - that he should be
+thought so to have escaped.  At some time, then, while he was
+hammering (the key in his pocket) at the locked door, he must
+suddenly have remembered with what a shock!  that a mistake had been
+made. A window had not been left open!
+
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first.  Was
+the office window open?  Surely it was open!  Was it?.... Would he
+have time now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French windows
+and slip out again?  No.  At any moment the servants might come.
+It was too risky.  Fatal, if he were discovered.  But servants were
+stupid.  He could get the windows safely open while they were
+crowding round the body.  They wouldn't notice.  He could do it
+somehow.
+
+And then Antony's sudden appearance!  Here was a complication.  And
+Antony suggesting that they should try the window!  Why, the window
+was just what he wanted to avoid.  No wonder he had seemed dazed at
+first.
+
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the
+longest way round and yet run.  It was Cayley's only chance of
+getting a start on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of
+working them open somehow before Antony caught him up.  Even if that
+were impossible, he must get there first, just to make sure.  Perhaps
+they were open.  He must get away from Antony and see.  And if they
+were shut, hopelessly shut, then he must have a moment to himself, a
+moment in which to think of some other plan, and avoid the ruin
+which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+
+So he had run.  But Antony had kept up with him.  They had broken in
+the window together, and gone into the office.  But Cayley was not
+done yet.  There was the dressing-room window!  But quietly, quietly.
+Antony mustn't hear.
+
+And Antony didn't hear.  Indeed, he had played up to Cayley
+splendidly.  Not only had he called attention to the open window,
+but he had carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this
+particular window in preference to the office window.  And Cayley
+had agreed that probably that was the reason.  How he must have
+chuckled to himself!  But he was still a little afraid.  Afraid
+that Antony would examine the shrubbery.  Why?  Obviously because
+there was no trace of anyone having broken through the shrubbery.
+No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces since, and had
+helped the inspector to find them.  Had he even gone as far as
+footmarks in Mark's shoes?  But the ground was very hard.  Perhaps
+footmarks were not necessary.  Antony smiled as he thought of the
+big Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper little Mark's shoes.
+Cayley must have been glad that footmarks were not necessary.
+
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig
+or two.  But quietly, quietly.  Antony mustn't hear.  And Antony had
+not heard....  But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and Bill
+was listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of yesterday's
+happenings.  It fitted in, it explained things, but it did not get
+them any further.  It only gave them another mystery to solve.
+
+"What's that?" said Antony.
+
+"Mark.  Where's Mark?  If he never went into the office at all, then
+where is he now?"
+
+"I don't say that he never went into the office.  In fact, he must
+have gone.  Elsie heard him."  He stopped and repeated slowly, "She
+heard him at least she says she did.  But if he was there, he came
+out again by the door."
+
+"Well, but where does that lead you?"
+
+"Where it led Mark.  The passage."
+
+"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?"  Antony was
+silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an effort
+he came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+
+"I don't know.  But look here.  Here is a possible explanation.  I
+don't know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm rather
+frightened.  Frightened of what may have happened, of what may be
+going to happen.  However, here is an explanation.  See if you can
+find any fault with it."
+
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he
+lay back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky above
+him, and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday being
+enacted over again, he described them slowly to Bill as they
+happened.
+
+"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert.  Call it an
+accident; probably it was.  Mark would say it was, anyhow.  He is
+in a panic, naturally.  But he doesn't lock the door and run away.
+For one thing, the key is on the outside of the door; for another,
+he is not, quite such a fool as that.  But he is in a horrible
+position.  He is known to be on bad terms with his brother; he has
+just uttered some foolish threat to him, which may possibly have
+been overheard.  What is he to do?  He does the natural thing, the
+thing which Mark would always do in such circumstances.  He consults
+Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable Cayley.
+
+"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley
+will tell him what to do.  He opens the door just as Cayley is
+coming to see what is the matter.  He explains rapidly.  'What's to
+be done, Cay?  what's to be done?.  It was an accident.  I swear it
+was an accident.  He threatened me.  He would have shot me if I
+hadn't.  Think of something, quick!'
+
+"Cayley has thought of something.  'Leave it to me,' he says.  'You
+clear out altogether.  I shot him, if you like.  I'll do all the
+explaining.  Get away.  Hide.  Nobody saw you go in.  Into the passage,
+quick.  I'll come to you there as soon as I can.'
+
+"Good Cayley.  Faithful Cayley!  Mark's courage comes back.  Cayley
+will explain all right.  Cayley will tell the servants that it was
+an accident.  He will ring up the police.  Nobody will suspect Cayley
+ - Cayley has no quarrel with Robert.  And then Cayley will come into
+the passage and tell him that it is all right, and Mark will go out
+by the other end, and saunter slowly back to the house.  He will be
+told the news by one of the servants.  Robert accidentally shot?
+Good Heavens!
+
+"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library.  And Cayley goes
+to the door of the office.... and locks it.  And then he bangs on the
+door and shouts, 'Let me in!'
+
+Antony was silent.  Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+
+"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense.  What's the point of Cayley
+behaving like that?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+
+"And what has happened to Mark since?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.
+
+"You're ready to go?"
+
+"Quite," said Bill, surprised.
+
+"You're quite ready for what we may find?"
+
+"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."
+
+"I know I am."  He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm
+being an ass, just a melodramatic ass.  Well, I hope I am."  He
+looked at his watch.
+
+"It's safe, is it?  They're still busy at the pond?"
+
+"We'd better make certain.  Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill - one
+of those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly?  I mean,
+could you get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is
+still there, without letting him see you?"
+
+"Rather!" He got up eagerly.  "You wait."
+
+Antony's head shot up suddenly.  "Why, that was what Mark said," he
+cried.
+
+"Mark?"
+
+"Yes.  What Elsie heard him say."
+
+"Oh, that."
+
+"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill?  She did hear
+him?"
+
+"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean.
+
+"Oh?"
+
+"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain, but -"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything."
+He rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous, high-pitched
+voice, and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, "I say,
+that was really rather good."
+
+Antony nodded quickly.  "That was like it?" he said.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes." He got up and squeezed Bill's arm.  "Well just go and see
+about Cayley, and then we'll get moving.  I shall be in the library."
+
+"Right."
+
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond.  This was
+glorious fun; this was life.  The immediate programme could hardly
+be bettered.  First of all he was going to stalk Cayley.  There was
+a little copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards
+away from it.  He would come into this from the back, creep
+cautiously through it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then,
+drawing himself on his stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene
+below him.  People were always doing that sort of thing in books,
+and he had been filled with a hopeless envy of them; well, now he
+was actually going to do it himself.  What fun!
+
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and reported
+to Antony, they were going to explore the secret passage!  Again,
+what fun!  Unfortunately there seemed to be no chance of buried
+treasure, but there might be buried clues.  Even if you found
+nothing, you couldn't get away from the fact that a secret passage
+was a secret passage, and anything might happen in it.  But even that
+wasn't the end of this exciting day.  They were going to watch the
+pond that night; they were going to watch Cayley under the moonlight,
+watch him as he threw into the silence of the pond what?  The
+revolver?  Well, anyhow, they were going to watch him.  What fun!
+
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters they
+were getting, it did not seem fun.  But it was amazingly interesting.
+He saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of focus.  It was
+like looking at an opal, and discovering with every movement of it
+some new colour, some new gleam of light reflected, and yet never
+really seeing the opal as a whole.  He was too near it, or too far
+away; he strained his eyes and he relaxed his eyes; it was no good.
+His brain could not get hold of it.
+
+But there were moments when he almost had it.... and then turned
+away from it.  He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had never
+seen murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and to which
+he was afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded killing which
+any man may come to if he lose control.  It was something much more
+horrible.  Too horrible to be true.  Then let him look again for the
+truth.  He looked again but it was all out of focus.
+
+"I will not look again," he said aloud, as he began to walk towards
+the house.  "Not yet, anyway."  He would go on collecting facts and
+impressions.  Perhaps the one fact would come along, by itself which
+would make everything clear.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+
+
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that Cayley
+was still at the pond.
+
+"But I don't think they're getting up much except mud," he said.  "I
+ran most of the way back so as to give us as much time as possible."
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Well, come along, then," he said.  "The sooner, the quicker."
+
+They stood in front of the row of sermons.  Antony took down the
+Reverend Theodore Ussher's famous volume, and felt for the spring.
+Bill pulled.  The shelves swung open towards them.
+
+"By Jove!" said Bill, "it is a narrow way.
+
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which had
+something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised about
+two feet from the ground.  But, save for one row of bricks in front,
+the floor of it was emptiness.  Antony took a torch from his pocket
+and flashed it down into the blackness.
+
+"Look," he whispered to the eager Bill.  "The steps begin down
+there.  Six feet down."
+
+He flashed his torch up again.  There was a handhold of iron, a
+sort of large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+
+"You swing off from there," said Bill.  "At least, I suppose you do.
+I wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it."
+
+"Cayley helped her, I should think.... It's funny."
+
+"Shall I go first?" asked Bill, obviously longing to do so.  Antony
+shook his head with a smile.
+
+"I think I will, if you don't mind very much, Bill.  Just in case.
+
+"In case of what?"
+
+"Well in case."
+
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to
+wonder what Antony meant.
+
+"Righto," he said.  "Go on."
+
+"Well, we'll just make sure we can get back again, first.  It really
+wouldn't be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down here for the
+rest of our lives.  He's got enough to do trying to find Mark, but if
+he has to find you and me as well -"
+
+"We can always get out at the other end."
+
+"Well, we're not certain yet.  I think I'd better just go down and
+back.  I promise faithfully not to explore."
+
+"Right you are."
+
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and
+sat there for a moment, his legs dangling.  He flashed his torch
+into the darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began;
+then returned it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him
+and swung himself down.  His feet touched the steps beneath him,
+and he let go.
+
+"Is it all right?" said Bill anxiously.
+
+"All right.  I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back.
+Stay there."
+
+The light shone down by his feet.  His head began to disappear.  For
+a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint
+splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a
+little longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was
+alone.... 
+
+Well, not quite alone.  There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, turning round with a start, "Cayley!"
+
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in
+action.  Thought was not demanded now.  To close the secret door
+safely but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the
+right places, to move away to another row of shelves so as to be
+discovered deep in "Badminton" or "Baedeker" or whomever the kind
+gods should send to his aid the difficulty was not to decide what to
+do, but to do all this in five seconds rather than in six.
+
+"Ah, there you are," said Cayley from the doorway.
+
+"Hallo!" said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume
+of "The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  "Have they
+finished?"
+
+"Finished what?"
+
+"The pond," said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on
+such a fine afternoon.  Desperately he tried to think of a good
+reason.... verifying a quotation - an argument with Antony - that
+would do.  But what quotation?
+
+"Oh, no.  They're still at it.  Where's Gillingham?"
+
+"The Ancient Mariner" - water, water, everywhere - or was that
+something else?  And where was Gillingham?  Water, water
+everywhere -
+
+"Tony?  Oh, he's about somewhere.  We're just going down to the
+village.  They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?"
+
+"No.  But they like doing it.  Something off their minds when they
+can say they've done it."
+
+Bill, deep in his 'book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back to
+it again.  He was just getting to the place.
+
+"What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him.  Out of the corner
+of his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came.  Bill saw
+that glance and wondered.  Was there anything there to give away the
+secret?
+
+"I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled.  "Tony and I had a
+bet about it.  You know that thing about - er water, water
+everywhere, and - er - not a drop to drink."  (But what on earth,
+he wondered to himself, were they betting about?)
+
+"'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate."
+
+Bill looked at him in surprise.  Then a happy smile came on his face.
+
+"Quite sure?" he said.
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Then you've saved me a lot of trouble.  That's, what the bet was
+about."  He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its shelf,
+and began to feel for his pipe and tobacco.  "I was a fool to bet
+with Tony," he added.  "He always knows that sort of thing."
+
+So far, so good.  But here was Cayley still in the library, and
+there was Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage.  When Antony
+came back he would not be surprised to find the door closed, because
+the whole object of his going had been to see if he could open it
+easily from the inside.  At any moment, then, the bookshelf might
+swing back and show Antony's head in the gap.  A nice surprise for
+Cayley!
+
+"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match.  He pulled
+vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide
+his anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+
+"I've got to go into Stanton."
+
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which
+covered also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, a pity.  You're driving, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes.  The car will be here directly.  There's a letter I must write
+first."  He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
+notepaper.
+
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it.  At
+any moment now it might open.
+
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought.  Antony must be warned.
+Obviously.  But how?  How did one signal to anybody?  By code.
+Morse code.  Did Antony know it?  Did Bill know it himself, if it
+came to that?  He had picked up a bit in the Army not enough to
+send a message, of course.  But a message was impossible, anyhow;
+Cayley would hear him tapping it out.  It wouldn't do to send
+more than a single letter.  What letters did he know?  And what
+letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at his pipe,
+his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend Theodore
+Ussher in his shelf.  What letter?
+
+C for Cayley.  Would Antony understand?  Probably not, but it was
+just worth trying.  What was C?  Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.  Was that right?  C  yes, that was C.  He
+was sure of that.  C.  Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man
+(as it might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him
+away for a walk or something.  He wandered across to the books
+at the back of Cayley, and began to tap absent-mindedly on the
+shelves, as he looked at the titles.  Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.  Not
+that it was much like that at first; he couldn't get the rhythm
+of it.... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.  That was better.  He was back
+at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now.  Antony would begin to hear him
+soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a man
+who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on
+the lawn.  Would Antony hear?  One always heard the man in the
+next flat knocking out his pipe.  Would Antony understand? 
+Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.  C.  for Cayley, Antony.  Cayley's here.
+For God's sake, wait.
+
+"Good Lord!  Sermons!" said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy) "Ever read 'em, Cayley?"
+
+"What?" Cayley looked up suddenly.  Bill's back moved slowly along,
+his fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+
+"Er no," said Cayley, with a little laugh.  An awkward, uncomfortable
+little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+
+"Nor do I."  He was past the sermons now past the secret door but
+still tapping in the same aimless way.
+
+"Oh, for God's sake sit down," burst out Cayley.  "Or go outside
+if you want to walk about."
+
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+
+"Hallo, what's the matter?"
+
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+
+"Sorry, Bill," he apologized.  "My nerves are on edge.  Your constant
+tapping and fidgeting about -"
+
+"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+
+"Tapping on the shelves, and humming.  Sorry.  It got on my nerves."
+
+"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry.  I'll go out in the hall."
+
+"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter.  Bill sat
+down in his chair again.  Had Antony understood?  Well, anyhow, there
+was nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go.  "And if you ask me,"
+said Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought to be on the stage.  That's
+where I ought to be.  The complete actor."
+
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes.... five minutes.
+It was safe now.  Antony had guessed.
+
+"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to
+talk to the chauffeur.  Cayley joined him, and they stood there for
+a moment.
+
+"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them.  They turned round and
+saw Antony.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
+
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said
+casually enough that it was all right.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Cayley.  "You're going down to the
+village?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+"I wonder if you'd take this letter to Jallands for me?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Thanks very much.  Well, I shall see you later."
+
+He nodded and got into the car.
+
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+
+"Well?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Come into the library."
+
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+
+"You must give me a moment," he panted.  "I've been running."
+
+"Running?"
+
+"Well, of course.  How do you think I got back here?"
+
+"You don't mean you went out at the other end?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I say, did you hear me tapping?"
+
+"I did, indeed.  Bill, you're a genius."
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+I knew you'd understand," he said.  "You guessed that I meant
+Cayley?"
+
+"I did.  It was the least I could do after you had been so brilliant.
+You must have had rather an exciting time."
+
+"Exciting?  Good lord, I should think it was."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his qualifications
+for a life on the stage.
+
+"Good man," said Antony at the end of it.  "You are the most perfect
+Watson that ever lived.  Bill, my lad," he went on dramatically,
+rising and taking Bill's hand in both of his, "There is nothing that
+you and I could not accomplish together, if we gave our minds to it."
+
+"Silly old ass."
+
+"That's what you always say when I'm being serious. Well, anyway,
+thanks awfully.  You really saved us this time."
+
+"Were you coming back?"
+
+"Yes.  At least I think I was.  I was just wondering when I heard
+you tapping.  The fact of the door being shut was rather surprising.
+Of course the whole idea was to see if it could be opened easily
+from the other side, but I felt somehow that you wouldn't shut it
+until the last possible moment - until you saw me coming back.  Well,
+when I heard the taps, and I knew it must mean something, so I sat
+tight.  Then when C began to come along I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove' 
+ - bright, aren't I? - and I simply hared to the other end of the
+passage for all I was worth.  And hared back again.  Because I
+thought you might be getting rather involved in explanations - about
+where I was, and so on."
+
+"You didn't see Mark, then?"
+
+"No.  Nor his  No, I didn't see anything."
+
+"Nor what?"
+
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+
+"I didn't see anything, Bill.  Or rather, I did see something; I
+saw a door in the wall, a cupboard.  And it's locked.  So if there's
+anything we want to find, that's where it is."
+
+"Could Mark be hiding there?"
+
+"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?'
+he would have thought it was Cayley.  There was no answer.
+
+"Well, let's go down and try again.  We might be able to get the
+door open."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+
+"Can Cayley drive a car?"
+
+"Yes, of course.  Why?"
+
+"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off to
+Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"
+
+"I suppose so if he wanted to."
+
+"Yes." Antony got up.  "Well, look here, as we said we were going
+into the village, and as we promised to leave that letter, I almost
+think we'd better do it."
+
+"Oh!.... Oh, very well."
+
+"Jallands.  What were you telling me about that?  Oh, yes; the Widow
+Norbury."
+
+"That's right.  Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter.  The
+letter's for her."
+
+"Yes; well, let's take it.  Just to be on the safe side."
+
+"Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?" asked
+Bill fretfully.
+
+"There's nothing to see, really, I promise you."
+
+"You're very mysterious.  What's upset you?  You did see something
+down there, I'm certain of it."
+
+"I did and I've told you about it."
+
+"No, you haven't.  You only told me about the door in the wall."
+
+"That's it, Bill.  And it's locked.  And I'm frightened of what's
+behind it."
+
+"But then we shall never know what's there if we aren't going to
+look."
+
+"We shall know to-night," said Antony, taking Bill's arm and
+leading him to the hall, "when we watch our dear friend Cayley
+dropping it into the pond."
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+
+
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which sloped
+gently downwards towards Jallands.  Antony was silent, and since it
+is difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man for any
+length of time, Bill had dropped into silence too.  Or rather, he
+hummed to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with his stick and
+made uncomfortable noises with his pipe.  But he noticed that his
+companion kept looking back over his shoulder, almost as if he wanted
+to remember for a future occasion the way by which they were coming.
+Yet there was no difficulty about it, for they remained all the time
+in view of the road, and the belt of trees above the long park wall
+which bordered its further side stood out clearly against the sky.
+
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a smile.
+
+"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+
+"Cayley.  Didn't you see?"
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The car.  Going past on the road there:"
+
+"So that's what you were looking for.  You've got jolly good eyes,
+my boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after only seeing
+it twice.
+
+"Well, I have got jolly good eyes.
+
+"I thought he was going to Stanton."
+
+"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
+
+"Then where is he going?"
+
+"The library, probably.  To consult our friend Ussher.  After making
+quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really were going
+to Jallands, as they said."
+
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+
+"I say, do you think so?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised.  We must be devilishly inconvenient for
+him, hanging about the house.  Any moment he can get, when we're
+definitely somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
+
+"Useful for what?"
+
+"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else.  We know he's
+mixed up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two.
+Even if he doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel
+that at any moment we might stumble on something."
+
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+
+"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+
+"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him.  Bill
+pushed it through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's better,"
+and returned the pipe to his pocket.
+
+"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
+
+"Well, that wants thinking over.  It's going to be difficult.  I
+wish we were sleeping at the inn.... Is this Miss Norbury, by any
+chance?"
+
+Bill looked up quickly.  They were close to Jallands now, an old
+thatched farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up
+to a new world, and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however,
+of so discreet a growth that they had not brought with them any
+obvious change of character, and Jallands even with a bathroom was
+still Jallands.  To the outward view, at any rate.  Inside, it was
+more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
+
+"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill.  "Not bad-looking, is she?"
+
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was something
+more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill was keeping his
+superlatives for another.  In Bill's eyes she must be judged, and
+condemned, by all that distinguished her from Betty Calladine.  To
+Antony, unhampered by these standards of comparison, she seemed,
+quite simply, beautiful.
+
+"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when the
+necessary handshakings and introductions were over.  "Here you are."
+
+"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about
+what has happened?  It seems so hopeless to say anything; so hopeless
+even to believe it.  If it is true what we've heard."
+
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+
+"Yes.... And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?"
+
+She shook her head in distress.  "It still seems to have happened
+to somebody else; somebody we didn't know at all."  Then, with a
+sudden grave smile which included both of them, "But you must come
+and have some tea."
+
+"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we - er -"
+
+"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see
+any man in her house who came up to the necessary standard of
+eligibility.  When her life-work was completed, and summed up in
+those beautiful words: "A marriage has been arranged, and will
+shortly take place, between Angela, daughter of the late John
+Norbury.... then she would utter a grateful Nunc dimittis and depart
+in peace to a better world, if Heaven insisted, but preferably to
+her new son-in-law's more dignified establishment.  For there was
+no doubt that eligibility meant not only eligibility as a husband.
+
+But it was not as "eligibles" that the visitors from the Red House
+were received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her special
+smile for "possibles" was there, it was instinctive rather than
+reasoned.  All that she wanted at this moment was news - news of
+Mark.  For she was bringing it off at last; and, if the engagement
+columns of the "Morning Post" were preceded, as in the case of its
+obituary columns, by a premonitory bulletin, the announcement of
+yesterday would have cried triumphantly to the world, or to such
+part of the world as mattered: "A marriage has very nearly been
+arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly take place, between
+Angela, only daughter of the late John Norbury, and - Mark Ablett
+of the Red House."  And, coming across it on his way to the sporting
+page, Bill would have been surprised.  For he had thought that, if
+anybody, it was Cayley.
+
+To the girl it was neither.  She was often amused by her mother's
+ways; sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them.  The
+Mark Ablett affair had seemed to her particularly distressing, for
+Mark was so obviously in league with her mother against her.  Other
+suitors, upon whom her mother had smiled, had been embarrassed by
+that championship; Mark appeared to depend on it as much as on his
+own attractions; great though he thought these to be.  They went
+a-wooing together.  It was a pleasure to turn to Cayley, that
+hopeless ineligible.
+
+But alas!  Cayley had misunderstood her.  She could not imagine
+Cayley in love until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it.
+That was four days ago.  She had not seen him since, and now here
+was this letter.  She dreaded opening it.  It was a relief to feel
+that at least she had an excuse for not doing so while her guests
+were in the house.
+
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the
+more sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and
+Angela had been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and
+efficiency of the expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on the
+sofa beside her, listening to many things which were of even greater
+interest to him than she could possibly have hoped.
+
+"It is terrible, terrible," she said.  "And to suggest that dear Mr.
+Ablett -"
+
+Antony made suitable noises.
+
+"You've seen Mr. Ablett for yourself.  A kinder, more warmhearted
+man -"
+
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Of course, yes, I was forgetting.  But, believe me, Mr. Gillingham,
+you can trust a woman's intuition in these matters."
+
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+
+"Think of my feelings as a mother."
+
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury's feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being discussed
+with a stranger.  Yet what could he do?  What, indeed, did he want
+to do except listen, in the hope of learning?  Mark engaged, or
+about to be engaged!  Had that any bearing on the events of
+yesterday?  What, for instance, would Mrs. Norbury have thought of
+brother Robert, that family skeleton?  Was this another reason for
+wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+
+"I never liked him, never!"
+
+"Never liked?" said Antony, bewildered.
+
+"That cousin of his Mr. Cayley."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my
+little girl to a man who would go about shooting his only brother?"
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't, Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by somebody
+else."
+
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+
+"I never liked him," said Mrs. Norbury firmly.  "Never."  However,
+thought Antony to himself, that didn't quite prove that Cayley was
+a murderer.
+
+"How did Miss Norbury get on with him?" he asked cautiously.
+
+"There was nothing in that at all," said Miss Norbury's mother
+emphatically.  "Nothing.  I would say so to anybody."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon.  I never meant -"
+
+"Nothing.  I can say that for dear Angela with perfect confidence.
+Whether he made advances -"  She broke off with a shrug of her
+plump shoulders.
+
+Antony waited eagerly.
+
+"Naturally they met.  Possibly he might have - I don't
+know.  But my duty as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+
+"I told him quite frankly that - how shall I put it? - that he was
+trespassing.  Tactfully, of course.  But frankly."
+
+"You mean," said Antony, trying to speak calmly, "that you told him
+that - er - Mr. Ablett and your daughter -?"
+
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+
+"Exactly, Mr. Gillingham.  I had my duty as a mother."
+
+"I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing
+your duty.  But it must have been disagreeable.  Particularly if
+you weren't quite sure "
+
+"He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham.  Obviously attracted."
+
+"Who would not be?" said Antony, with a charming smile.  "It must
+have been something of a shock to him to -"
+
+"It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken.  I saw
+at once that I had not spoken a moment too soon."
+
+"There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next meeting,"
+suggested Antony.
+
+"Naturally, he has not been here since.  No doubt they would have
+been bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later."
+
+"Oh, - this was only quite lately?"
+
+"Last week, Mr. Gillingham.  I spoke just in time.
+
+"Ah!" said Antony, under his breath.  He had been waiting for it.
+
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have
+thought over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps preferably,
+to have changed partners for a little while with Bill.  Miss Norbury
+would hardly be ready to confide in a stranger with the readiness
+of a mother, but he might have learnt something by listening to her.
+For which of them had she the greater feeling Cayley or Mark?  Was
+she really prepared to marry Mark?  Did she love him or the other
+- or neither?  Mrs. Norbury was only a trustworthy witness in regard
+to her own actions and thoughts; he had learnt all that was
+necessary of those, and only the daughter now had anything left to
+tell him.  But Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+
+"Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham," she was saying.  "It is
+fortunate that they have mothers to guide them.  It was so obvious
+to me from the beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just the husband
+for my little girl.  You never knew him?"
+
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Such a gentleman.  So nice-looking, in his artistic way.  A regular
+Velasquez - I should say Van Dyck.  Angela would have it that she
+could never marry a man with a beard.  As if that mattered, when -"
+She broke off, and Antony finished her sentence for her.
+
+"The Red House is certainly charming," he said.
+
+"Charming.  Quite charming.  And it is not as if Mr. Ablett's
+appearance were in any way undistinguished.  Quite the contrary.
+I'm sure you agree with me?"
+
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Yes.  And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world.  So
+desirable in every way."
+
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little.
+Antony was, about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs.
+Norbury began again.
+
+"And then there's this scapegrace brother of his.  He was perfectly
+frank with me, Mr. Gillingham.  He would be.  He told me of this
+brother, and I told him that I was quite certain it would make no
+difference to my daughter's feelings for him.... After all, the
+brother was in Australia."
+
+"When was this?  Yesterday?"  Antony felt that, if Mark had only
+mentioned it after his brother's announcement of a personal call at
+the Red House, this perfect frankness had a good deal of wisdom
+behind it.
+
+"It couldn't have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham.  Yesterday -"
+she shuddered, and shook her head.
+
+"I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning."
+
+"Oh, no!  There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too
+devoted a lover.  Not in the morning, no.  We both agreed that dear
+Angela -  Oh, no.  No; the day before yesterday, when he happened
+to drop in about tea-time."
+
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from her
+opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically
+engaged.  She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be
+rushed, that dear Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at all.
+
+"The day before yesterday.  As it happened, dear Angela was out.
+Not that it mattered.  He was driving to Middleston.  He hardly had
+time for a cup of tea, so that even if she had been in -"
+
+Antony nodded absently.  This was something new.  Why did Mark go to
+Middleston the day before yesterday?  But, after all, why shouldn't
+he?  A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of Robert might
+have taken him there.
+
+He got up to go.  He wanted to be alone - alone, at least, with Bill.
+Mrs. Norbury had given him many things to think over, but the great
+outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that Cayley had reason
+to hate Mark, - Mrs. Norbury had given him that reason.  To hate?
+Well, to be jealous, anyhow.  But that was enough.
+
+"You see," he said to Bill, as they walked back, "we know that Cayley
+is perjuring himself and risking himself over this business, and that
+must be for one of two reasons.  Either to save Mark or to endanger
+him.  That is to say, he is either whole-heartedly for him or
+whole-heartedly against him.  Well, now we know that he is against
+him, definitely against him."
+
+"But, I say, you know," protested Bill, "one doesn't necessarily
+try to ruin one's rival in love."
+
+"Doesn't one?" said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean -"
+
+"You mightn't try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn't perjure
+yourself in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making."
+
+"Lord!  no."
+
+"So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely."
+
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them
+from the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and
+leant against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the
+house which they had left.
+
+"Jolly little place, isn't it?" said Bill.
+
+"Very.  But rather mysterious."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Well, where's the front door?"
+
+"The front door?  Why, you've just come out of it."
+
+"But isn't there a drive, or a road or anything?"
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"No; that's the beauty of it to some people.  And that's why it's
+so cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect.  They're
+not too well off."
+
+"But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?"
+
+"Oh, there's a cart-track, but motor-cars can't come any nearer than
+the road" he turned round and pointed "up there.  So the week-end
+millionaire people don't take it.  At least, they'd have to build a
+road and a garage and all the rest of it, if they did."
+
+"I see," said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and continued
+their walk up to the road.  But later on he remembered this casual
+conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of it.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Getting Ready for the Night
+
+
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that night?
+Antony thought that he knew now.  It was Mark's body.
+
+>From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn back
+from it.  For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a cold-blooded
+killing.  Was Cayley equal to it?  Bill would have said "No," but
+that was because he had had breakfast with Cayley, and lunch with
+him, and dinner with him; had ragged him and played games with him.
+Bill would have said "No," because Bill wouldn't have killed anybody
+in cold blood himself, and because he took it for granted that other
+people behaved pretty much as he did.  But Antony had no such
+illusions.  Murders were done; murder had actually been done here,
+for there was Robert's dead body.  Why not another murder?
+
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon?  The only
+evidence (other than Cayley's, which obviously did not count) was
+Elsie's.  Elsie was quite certain that she had heard his voice.  But
+then Bill had said that it was a very characteristic voice - an easy
+voice, therefore, to imitate.  If Bill could imitate it so
+successfully, why not Cayley?
+
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after all.
+Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that afternoon over
+the girl whom they were both wooing.  Suppose Cayley had killed Mark,
+either purposely, in sudden passion, or accidentally, meaning only to
+knock him down.  Suppose that this had happened in the passage, say
+about two o'clock, either because Cayley had deliberately led him
+there, or because Mark had casually suggested a visit to it.  (One
+could imagine Mark continually gloating over that secret passage.)
+Suppose Cayley there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the
+rope round his neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic
+search for a way of escape; and suppose that suddenly and
+irrelevantly he remembers that Robert is coming to the house at three
+o'clock that afternoon - automatically he looks at his watch - in
+half an hour's time.... In half an hour's time.  He must think of
+something quickly, quickly.  Shall he bury the body in the passage
+and let it be thought that Mark ran away, frightened at the mere
+thought of his brother's arrival?  But there was the evidence of the
+breakfast table.  Mark had seemed annoyed at this resurrection of
+the black sheep, but certainly not frightened.  No; that was much
+too thin a story.  But suppose Mark had actually seen his brother
+and had a quarrel with him; suppose it could be made to look as if
+Robert had killed Mark - 
+
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over
+the dead body of his cousin, and working it out.  How could Robert
+be made to seem the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny it?  But
+suppose Robert were dead, too?
+
+He looks at his watch again.  (Only twenty-five minutes now.)
+Suppose Robert were dead, too?  Robert dead in the office, and Mark
+dead in the passage how does that help?  Madness!  But if the bodies
+were brought together somehow and Robert's death looked like
+suicide?.... Was it possible?
+
+Madness again.  Too difficult.  (Only twenty minutes now.)  Too
+difficult to arrange in twenty minutes.  Can't arrange a suicide.
+Too difficult.... Only nineteen minutes....
+
+And then the sudden inspiration!  Robert dead in the office, Mark's
+body hidden in the passage - impossible to make Robert seem the
+murderer, but how easy to make Mark!  Robert dead and Mark missing;
+why, it jumped to the eye at once.  Mark had killed Robert -
+accidentally; yes, that would be more likely - and then had run away.
+Sudden panic.... (He looks at his watch again.  Fifteen minutes,
+but plenty of time now.  The thing arranges itself.)
+
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered.  It seemed to fit in with
+the facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory
+which he had suggested to Bill in the morning.
+
+"Which one?" said Bill.
+
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were sitting
+in the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and his
+fishermen had now withdrawn.  Bill had listened with open mouth to
+Antony's theory, and save for an occasional "By Jove!" had listened
+in silence.  "Smart man, Cayley," had been his only comment at the
+end.
+
+"Which other theory?"
+
+"That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley for
+help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage, locked the
+office door from the outside and hammered on it."
+
+"Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that.  I asked you
+what the point of it was, and you wouldn't say anything."  He
+thought for a little, and then went on, "I suppose you meant that
+Cayley deliberately betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look like
+a murderer?"
+
+"I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the
+passage, alive or dead."
+
+"And now you don't think so?"
+
+"Now I think that his dead body is there."
+
+"Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards after you
+had come, after the police had come?"
+
+"Well, that's what I shrink from, Bill.  It's so horribly
+cold-blooded.  Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think of
+it."
+
+"But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough.  According
+to you, he goes up to the office and deliberately shoots a man with
+whom he has no quarrel, whom he hasn't seen for fifteen years!"
+
+"Yes, but to save his own neck.  That makes a difference.  My theory
+is that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl, and killed
+him in sudden passion.  Anything that happened after that would be
+self-defense.  I don't mean that I excuse it, but that I understand
+it.  And I think that Mark's dead body is in the passage now, and has
+been there since, say, half-past two yesterday afternoon.  And
+to-night Cayley is going to hide it in the pond."
+
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a handful
+or two, and said slowly, "You may be right, but it's all guess-work,
+you know."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Good Lord, of course it is," he said.  "And to-night we shall know
+if it's a good guess or a bad one."
+
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+
+"To-night," he said.  "I say, to-night's going to be rather fun.
+How do we work it?"
+
+Antony was silent for a little.
+
+"Of course," he said at last, "we ought to inform the police, so
+that they can come here and watch the pond to-night."
+
+"Of course," grinned Bill.
+
+"But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our theories
+before them."
+
+"I think perhaps it is," said Bill solemnly.
+
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+
+"Bill, you old bounder."
+
+"Well, dash it, it's our show.  I don't see why we shouldn't get
+our little bit of fun out of it."
+
+"Neither do I.  All right, then, we'll do without the police
+to-night."
+
+"We shall miss them," said Bill sadly, "but 'tis better so."
+
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of
+getting out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and
+secondly, the problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley
+dropped into the pond that night.
+
+"Let's look at it from Cayley's point of view," said Antony.  "He
+may not know that we're on his track, but he can't help being
+suspicious of us.  He's bound to be suspicious of everybody in the
+house, and more particularly of us, because we're presumably more
+intelligent than the others."
+
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the
+opportunity of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he's going to take
+good care that we aren't watching him.  Well, what will he do?"
+
+"See that we are asleep first, before he starts out."
+
+"Yes.  Come and tuck us up, and see that we're nice and comfortable."
+
+"Yes, that's awkward," said Bill.  "But we could lock our doors, and
+then he wouldn't know that we weren't there."
+
+"Have you ever locked your door?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"No And you can bet that Cayley knows that.  Anyway, he'd bang on it,
+and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?"
+
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+
+"Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep
+thought.  "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out,
+and that doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of him."
+
+"Let's put ourselves in his place," said Antony, puffing slowly at
+his pipe.  "He's got the body, or whatever it is, in the passage.
+He won't come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms, and look in
+at our doors to see if we're awake.  He'll have to make sure about
+us first, and then go down for the body afterwards.  So that gives
+us a little time."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill doubtfully.  "We might just do it, but it'll be
+a bit of a rush."
+
+"But wait.  When he's gone down to the passage and got the body,
+what will he do next?"
+
+"Come out again," said Bill helpfully.
+
+"Yes; but which end?"
+
+Bill sat up with a start.
+
+"By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?"
+
+"Don't you think so?  Just imagine him walking across the lawn in
+full view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms.  Think
+of the awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck, wondering
+if anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that moment to
+wander to the window and look out into the night.  There's still
+plenty of moonlight, Bill.  Is he going to walk across the park in
+the moonlight, with all those windows staring at him?  Not if he
+can help it.  But he can get out by the bowling green, and then
+come to the pond without ever being in sight of the house, at all."
+
+"You're right.  And that will just about give us time.  Good.  Now,
+what's the next thing?"
+
+"The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he
+drops whatever he drops."
+
+"So that we can fish it out again."
+
+"If we can see what it is, we shan't want to.  The police can have
+a go at it to-morrow.  But if it's something we can't identify from
+a distance, then we must try and get it out.  To see whether it's
+worth telling the police about."
+
+"Y - yes," said Bill, wrinkling his forehead.  "Of course, the
+trouble with water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like
+the next bit.  I don't know if that had occurred to you.
+
+"It had," smiled Antony.  "Let's come and have a look at it."
+
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in
+silence, looking at the pond beneath them.
+
+"See anything?" said Antony at last.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The fence on the other side."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Well, it's rather useful, that's all."
+
+"Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically," added Bill.  "A moment later,
+his friend Watson had hurled him into the pond."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love being Sherlocky," he said.  "It's very unfair of you not to
+play up to me.
+
+"Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?" said Bill obediently.
+
+"Because you can take a bearing on it.  You see "
+
+"Yes, you needn't stop to explain to me what a bearing is."
+
+"I wasn't going to.  But you're lying here" he looked up "underneath
+this pine-tree.  Cayley comes out in the old boat and drops his
+parcel in.  You take a line from here on to the boat, and mark it
+off on the fence there.  Say it's the fifth post from the end.  Well,
+then I take a line from my tree we'll find one for me directly and
+it comes on to the twentieth post, say.  And where the two lines meet,
+there shall the eagles be gathered together.  Q.E.D.  And there, I
+almost forgot to remark, will the taller eagle, Beverley by name, do
+his famous diving act.  As performed nightly at the Hippodrome."
+
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+
+"I say, really?  It's beastly dirty water, you know."
+
+"I'm afraid so, Bill.  So it is written in the book of Jasher."
+
+"Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped, well,
+it's a warm night."
+
+"Just the night for a bathe," agreed Antony, getting up.  "Well now,
+let's have a look for my tree."
+
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back.
+Bill's tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable,
+fifty feet nearer to heaven than its neighbours.  But it had its
+fellow at the other end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps,
+but equally conspicuous.
+
+"That's where I shall be," said Antony, pointing to it.  "Now, for
+the Lord's sake, count your posts accurately."
+
+"Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake," said Bill
+with feeling.  "I don't want to spend the whole night diving."
+
+"Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and
+then count backwards to the beginning of the fence."
+
+"Right, old boy.  Leave it to me.  I can do this on my head."
+
+"Well, that's how you will have to do the last part of it," said
+Antony with a smile.
+
+He looked at his watch.  It was nearly time to change for dinner.
+They started to walk back to the house together.
+
+"There's one thing which worries me rather," said Antony.  "Where
+does Cayley sleep?"
+
+"Next door to me.  Why?"
+
+"Well, it's just possible that he might have another look at you
+after he's come back from the pond.  I don't think he'd bother
+about it in the ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your
+door, I think he might glance in."
+
+"I shan't be there.  I shall be at the bottom of the pond, sucking
+up mud."
+
+"Yes....  Do you think you could leave something in your bed that
+looked vaguely like you in the dark?  A bolster with a pyjama-coat
+round it, and one arm outside the blanket, and a pair of socks or
+something for the head.  You know the kind of thing.  I think it
+would please him to feel that you were still sleeping peacefully."
+
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Rather.  I'm awfully good at that.  I'll make him up something
+really good.  But what about you?"
+
+"I'm at the other end of the house; he's hardly likely to bother
+about me a second time.  And I shall be so very fast asleep at his
+first visit.  Still, I may as well to be on the safe side."
+
+They went into the house.  Cayley was in the hall as they came in.
+He nodded, and took out his watch.
+
+"Time to change?" he said.
+
+"Just about," said Bill.
+
+"You didn't forget my letter?"
+
+"I did not.  In fact, we had tea there."
+
+"Ah!" He looked away and said carelessly, "How were they all?"
+
+"They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and  and all
+that sort of thing."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing
+was coming, he turned round, said, "Come on, Tony," and led the
+way upstairs.
+
+"Got all you want?" he said at the top of the stairs.
+
+"I think so.  Come and see me before you go down."
+
+"Righto."
+
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the
+window.  He pushed open a casement and looked out.  His bedroom was
+just over the door at the back of the house.  The side wall of the
+office, which projected out into the lawn beyond the rest of the
+house, was on his left.  He could step out on to the top of the
+door, and from there drop easily to the ground.  Getting back
+would be little more difficult.  There was a convenient water-pipe
+which would help.
+
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in.  "Final
+instructions?" he asked, sitting down on the bed.  "By the way, how
+are we amusing ourselves after dinner?  I mean immediately after
+dinner."
+
+"Billiards?"
+
+"Righto.  Anything you like."
+
+"Don't talk too loud," said Antony in a lower voice.  "We're more
+or less over the hall, and Cayley may be there."  He led the way to
+the window.  "We'll go out this way to-night.  Going downstairs is
+too risky.  It's easy enough; better put on tennis-shoes."
+
+"Right.  I say, in case I don't get another chance alone with you
+what do I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?"
+
+"It's difficult to say.  Be as natural as you can.  I mean, if he
+just knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep.  Don't overdo the
+snoring.  But if he makes a hell of a noise, you'll have to wake
+up and rub your eyes, and wonder what on earth he's doing in your
+room at all.  You know the sort of thing."
+
+"Right.  And about the dummy figure.  I'll make it up directly we
+come upstairs, and hide it under the bed."
+
+"Yes.... I think we'd better go completely to bed ourselves.  We
+shan't take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time to
+get safely into the passage.  Then come into my room."
+
+"Right.... Are you ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They went downstairs together.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+
+
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night.  After dinner was over,
+he suggested a stroll outside.  They walked up and down the gravel
+in front of the house, saying very little to each other, until Bill
+could stand it no longer.  For the last twenty turns he had been
+slowing down hopefully each time they came to the door, but the hint
+had always been lost on his companions, and each time another turn
+had been taken.  But in the end he had been firm.
+
+"What about a little billiards?" he said, shaking himself free from
+the others.
+
+"Will you play?" said Antony to Cayley.
+
+"I'll watch you," he said, and he had watched them resolutely until
+the game, and then another game after that; had been played.
+
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+
+"Well, thank heaven for bed," said Bill; putting down his glass.
+"Are you coming?"
+
+"Yes," said Antony, and finished his drink.  He looked at Cayley.
+
+"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley.  "I
+shan't be long following you."
+
+"Well, good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs.  "Good night,
+Tony."
+
+"Good night."
+
+Bill looked at his watch.  Half-past eleven.  Not much chance of
+anything happening for another hour.  He pulled open a drawer and
+wondered what to wear on their expedition.  Grey flannel trousers,
+flannel shirt, and a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be
+lying out in the copse for some time.  And good idea a towel.  He
+would want it later on, and meanwhile he could wear it round his
+waist.
+
+Tennis-shoes.... There Everything was ready.  Now then for the
+dummy figure.
+
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed.  Twelve-fifteen.
+How long to wait before Cayley came up?  He turned out the light, and
+then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to
+become accustomed to the new darkness.... He could only just make out
+the bed in the corner of the room.  Cayley would want more light than
+that if he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was
+occupied.  He pulled the curtains a little way back.  That was about
+right.  He could have another look later on, when he had the dummy
+figure in the bed.
+
+How long would it be before Cayley came up?  It wasn't that he wanted
+his friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started
+on his business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that
+they were safely in their bedrooms.  Cayley's business would make
+no noise, give no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the
+household, so long as the household was really inside the house.
+But if he wished to reassure himself about his guests, he would
+have to wait until they were far enough on their way to sleep not
+to be disturbed by him as he came up to reassure himself.  So it
+amounted to the same thing, really.  He would wait until they were
+asleep.... until they were asleep .... asleep....
+
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again.  This would never do.  It would be
+fatal if he went to sleep.... if he went to sleep.... to sleep....
+And then, in an instant, he was intensely awake.  Suppose Cayley
+never came at all!
+
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his
+business.  Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it
+that secret of his.  Good heavens, what fools they had been!  How
+could Antony have taken such a risk?  Put yourself in Cayley's place,
+he had said.  But how was it possible?  They weren't Cayley.  Cayley
+was at the pond now.  They would never know what he had dropped
+into it.
+
+Listen!.... Somebody at the door.  He was asleep.  Quite naturally
+now.  Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps.  He was asleep.... The
+door was opening.  He could feel it opening behind him.... Good Lord,
+suppose Cayley really was a murderer!  Why, even now he might be -
+no, he mustn't think of that.  If he thought of that, he would have
+to turn round.  He mustn't turn round.  He was asleep; just
+peacefully asleep.  But why didn't the door shut?  Where was Cayley
+now?  Just behind him?  And in his hand no, he mustn't think of that.
+He was asleep.  But why didn't the door shut?
+
+The door was shutting.  There was a sigh from the sleeper in the bed,
+a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily.  But it had a very
+natural sound a deep breath from a heavy sleeper.  He added another
+one to it to make it seem more natural.  The door was shut.
+
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up.  As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark.  He put the
+dummy figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just enough
+but not too much of it was showing, and stood by the door looking
+at it.  For a casual glance the room was just about light enough.
+Then very quietly, very slowly he opened the door.  All was still.
+There was no light from beneath the door of Cayley's room.  Very
+quietly, very carefully he crept along the passage to Antony's room.
+He opened the door and went in.
+
+Antony was still in bed.  Bill walked across to wake him up, and
+then stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs.  There
+was somebody else in the room.
+
+"All right, Bill," said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped out
+from the curtains.
+
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+
+"Rather good, isn't it?" said Antony, coming closer and pointing to
+the bed.  "Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better."
+
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him.
+They reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly across
+the lawn and so, over the fence, into the park.  It was not until
+they were out of sight of the house that Bill felt it safe to speak.
+
+"I quite thought it was you in bed," he said.
+
+"I hoped you would.  I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley
+doesn't call again.  It's a pity to waste it."
+
+"He came all right just now?"
+
+"Oh, rather.  What about you?"
+
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+
+"There wouldn't have been much point in his killing you," said
+Antony prosaically.  "Besides being too risky."
+
+"Oh!" said Bill.  And then, "I had rather hoped that it was his love
+for me which restrained him."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I doubt it.... You didn't turn up your light when you dressed?"
+
+"Good Lord, no.  Did you want me to?"
+
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+
+"You're a splendid conspirator, Bill.  You and I could take on
+anything together."
+
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight.  The
+trees which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were
+mysteriously silent.  It seemed that they had the world very much
+to themselves.
+
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+
+"There's your tree, there's mine.  As long as you don't move, there's
+no chance of his seeing you.  After he's gone, don't come out till I
+do.  He won't be here for a quarter of an hour or so, so don't be
+impatient."
+
+"Righto," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their posts.
+
+The minutes went by slowly.  To Antony, lying hidden in the
+undergrowth at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting
+itself.  Suppose Cayley had to make more than one journey that night?
+He might come back to find them in the boat; one of them, indeed, in
+the water.  And if they decided to wait in hiding, on the chance of
+Cayley coming back again, what was the least time they could safely
+allow?  Perhaps it would be better to go round to the front of the
+house and watch for his return there, the light in his bedroom,
+before conducting their experiments at the pond.  But then they
+might miss his second visit in this way, if he made a second visit.
+It was difficult.
+
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things, and
+suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was standing by
+the boat.  In his hand was a small brown bag.
+
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and using
+an oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off.  Then, very silently, he
+rowed towards the middle of the pond.
+
+He had stopped.  The oars rested on the water.  He picked up the
+bag from between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and
+rested it lightly on the water for a moment.  Then he let go.  It
+sank slowly.  He waited there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it
+might rise again.  Antony began to count.... 
+
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place.  He tied up the boat,
+looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces behind him,
+and then turned to the water again.  For a long time, as it seemed
+to the watchers, he stood there, very big, very silent, in the
+moonlight.  At last he seemed satisfied.  Whatever his secret was,
+he had hidden it; and so with a gentle sigh, as unmistakable to
+Antony as if he had heard it, Cayley turned away and vanished again
+as quietly as he had come.
+
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees.  He
+waited there for Bill to join him.
+
+"Six," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I'm going round to the front of the house.  You get back to your
+tree and watch, in case Cayley comes again.  Your bedroom is the
+left-hand end one, and Cayley's the end but one?  Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Right.  Wait in hiding till I come back.  I don't know how long
+I shall be, but don't be impatient.  It will seem longer than it
+is."  He patted Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod
+of the head he left him there.
+
+What was in the bag?  What could Cayley want to hide other than a
+key or a revolver?  Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no need
+to put them in a bag first.  What was in the bag?  Something which
+wouldn't sink of itself; something which needed to be helped with
+stones before it would hide itself safely in the mud.
+
+Well, they would find that out.  There was no object in worrying
+about it now.  Bill had a dirty night's work in front of him.  But
+where was the body which Antony had expected so confidently or, if
+there were no body, where was Mark?
+
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley?  As quickly as he
+could Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying
+in the shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light to
+go up in Cayley's window.  If it went up in Bill's window, then
+they were discovered.  It would mean that Cayley had glanced into
+Bill's room, had been suspicious of the dummy figure in the bed,
+and had turned up the light to make sure.  After that, it was war
+between them.  But if it went up in Cayley's room-
+
+There was a light.  Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement.  It
+was in Bill's room.  War!
+
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up,
+blowing the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the rest
+of the house.  Bill had left his curtains undrawn.  It was careless
+of him; the first stupid thing he had done, but -
+
+The moon slipped out again.... and Antony laughed to himself in the
+bushes.  There was another window beyond Cayley's, and there was no
+light in it.  The declaration of war was postponed.
+
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed.  After all it was only
+polite to return Cayley's own solicitude earlier in the night.
+Politeness demanded that one should not disport oneself on the pond
+until one's friends were comfortably tucked up.
+
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting.  His chief fear was
+that he might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six."  It
+was the sixth post.  Six.  He broke off a twig and divided it into
+six pieces.  These he arranged on the ground in front of him.  Six.
+He looked at the pond, counted up to the sixth post, and murmured
+"six" to himself again.  Then he looked down at his twigs.
+One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.  Seven!  Was it seven?  Or was
+that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which had been on the
+ground anyhow?  Surely it was six!  Had he said "six" to Antony?
+If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right.  Six.  He threw
+away the seventh twig and collected the other six together.  Perhaps
+they would be safer in his pocket.  Six.  The height of a tall man
+- well, his own height.  Six feet.  Yes, that was the way to remember
+it.  Feeling a little safer on the point, he began to wonder about
+the bag, and what Antony would say to it, and the possible depth of
+the water and of the mud at the bottom; and was still so wondering,
+and saying, "Good Lord, what a life!" to himself, when Antony
+reappeared.
+
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+
+"Six," he said firmly.  "Sixth post from the end."
+
+"Good," smiled Antony.  "Mine was the eighteenth - a little way
+past it."
+
+"What did you go off for?" 
+
+"To see Cayley into bed."
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes.  Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we shall
+see it more easily.  I'll put mine on the eighteenth.  Are you going
+to undress here or in the boat?"
+
+"Some here, and some in the boat.  You're quite sure that you
+wouldn't like to do the diving yourself?"
+
+"Quite, thanks."
+
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond.  Coming to the
+sixth post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in
+position, and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off
+to mark the eighteenth post.  When they were ready, they got into
+the boat, Antony taking the oars.
+
+"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two marks."
+
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+
+"You're about there now," said Bill at last.
+
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+
+"Yes, that's pretty well right."  He turned the boat's nose round
+until it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain.
+"You see my tree and the other coat?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill.
+
+"Right.  Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line until
+we're dead in between the two.  Get it as exact as you can - for
+your own sake."
+
+"Steady!" said Bill warningly.  "Back a little.... a little
+more.... a little more forward again.... Right."  Antony left the
+oars on the water and looked around.  As far as he could tell,
+they were in an exact line with each pair of landmarks.
+
+"Now then, Bill, in you go."
+
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+
+"You mustn't dive from the boat, old boy," said Antony hastily.
+"You'll shift its position.  Slide in gently."
+
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+
+"What's it like?" said Antony.
+
+"Cold.  Well, here's luck to it."
+
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was
+gone.  Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his
+landmarks.
+
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion.  "It's pretty muddy,"
+he protested.
+
+"Weeds?"
+
+"No, thank the Lord."
+
+"Well, try again.
+
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared.  Again Antony coaxed the
+boat back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in
+front of him.
+
+"I feel that if I threw you a sardine," said Antony, with a smile,
+"you'd catch it in your mouth quite prettily."
+
+"It's awfully easy to be funny from where you are.  How much longer
+have I got to go on doing this?"
+
+Antony looked at his watch.
+
+"About three hours.  We must get back before daylight.  But be
+quicker if you can, because it's rather cold for me sitting here."
+
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again.  He
+was under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on
+his face when it was visible again.
+
+"I've got it, but it's devilish hard to get up.  I'm not sure
+that it isn't too heavy for me.
+
+"That's all right," said Antony.  He brought out a ball of thick
+string from his pocket.  "Get this through the handle if you can,
+and then we can both pull."
+
+"Good man."  He paddled to the side, took one end of the string and
+paddled back again.  "Now then."
+
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat.  Bill clambered
+in after it, and Antony rowed back.  "Well done, Watson," he said
+quietly, as they landed.  He fetched their two coats, and then
+waited, the bag in his hand, while Bill dried and dressed himself.
+As soon as the latter was ready, he took his arm and led him into
+the copse.  He put the bag down and felt in his pockets.
+
+"I shall light a pipe before I open it," he said.  "What about you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes.  Bill's hand was a
+little unsteady.  Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring smile.
+
+"Ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony pressed
+the catch and opened it.
+
+"Clothes!" said Bill.
+
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out.  It was a wet
+brown flannel coat.
+
+"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
+
+"Mark's brown flannel suit."
+
+"The one he is advertised as having run away in?"
+
+"Yes.  It looks like it.  Of course he had a dashed lot of clothes."
+
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some letters.
+He considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+
+"I suppose I'd better read them," he said.  "I mean, just to see -"
+He looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded.  Antony turned on his
+torch and glanced at them.  Bill waited anxiously.
+
+"Yes.  Mark.... Hallo!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about.  From
+Robert.  'Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you - '  Yes,
+I suppose I had better keep this.  Well, that's his coat.  Let's
+have out the rest of it."  He took the remaining clothes from the
+bag and spread them out.
+
+"They're all here," said Bill.  "Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes - yes, all of them."
+
+"All that he was wearing yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+
+"Is it what you expected?"
+
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+
+"It's too absurd," he said.  "I expected - well, you know what I
+expected.  A body.  A body in a suit of clothes.  Well, perhaps it
+would be safer to hide them separately.  The body here, and the
+clothes in the passage, where they would never betray themselves.
+And now he takes a great deal of trouble to hide the clothes here,
+and doesn't bother about the body at all."  He shook his head.
+"I'm a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and that's the fact."
+
+"Anything else there?"
+
+Antony felt in the bag.
+
+"Stones and - yes, there's something else."  He took it out and
+held it up.  "There we are, Bill."
+
+It was the office key.
+
+"By Jove, you were right."
+
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside down
+on the grass.  A dozen large stones fell out - and something else.
+He flashed down his torch.
+
+"Another key," he said.
+
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time in
+silence, thinking.  Bill was silent, too, not liking to interrupt
+his thoughts, but at last he said:
+
+"Shall I put these things back?"
+
+Antony looked up with a start.
+
+What?  Oh, yes.  No, I'll put them back.  You give me a light, will
+you?"
+
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag,
+pausing as he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it seemed
+to Bill, that it had something to tell him if only he could read it.
+When the last of them was inside, he still waited there on his knees,
+thinking.
+
+"That's the lot," said Bill.
+
+Antony nodded at him.
+
+"Yes, that's the lot," he said; "and that's the funny thing about
+it.  You're sure it is the lot?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Give me the torch a moment."  He took it and flashed it over the
+ground between them.  "Yes, that's the lot.  It's funny."  He stood
+up, the bag in his hands.  "Now let's find a hiding-place for these,
+and then -"  He said no more, but stepped off through the trees,
+Bill following him meekly.
+
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of
+the copse, Antony became more communicative.  He took the two keys
+out of his pocket.
+
+"One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the key
+of the passage cupboard.  So I thought that perhaps we might have a
+look at the cupboard."
+
+"I say, do you really think it is?"
+
+"Well, I don't see what else it can be."
+
+"But why should he want to throw it away?"
+
+"Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants to
+wash his hands of the passage.  He'd throw the passage away if he
+could.  I don't think it matters much one way or another, and I
+don't suppose there's anything to find in the cupboard, but I feel
+that we must look."
+
+"Do you still think Mark's body might be there?"
+
+"No.  And yet where else can it be?  Unless I'm hopelessly wrong,
+and Cayley never killed him at all."
+
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+
+"I know you'll think me an ass -"
+
+"My dear Bill, I'm such an obvious ass myself that I should be
+delighted to think you are too."
+
+"Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him
+to escape, just as we thought at first.  I know you proved
+afterwards that it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a way
+we don't know about and for reasons we don't know about.  I mean,
+there are such a lot of funny things about the whole show that
+ - well, almost anything might have happened."
+
+"You're quite right.  Well?"
+
+"Well, then, this clothes business.  Doesn't that seem rather to
+bear out the escaping theory?  Mark's brown suit was known to the
+police.  Couldn't Cayley have brought him another one in the passage,
+to escape in, and then have had the brown one on his hands?  And
+thought it safest to hide it in the pond?"
+
+"Yes," said Anthony thoughtfully.  Then: "Go on."
+
+Bill went on eagerly:
+
+"It all seems to fit in, you know.  I mean even with your first
+theory - that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley
+for help.  Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he'd have told Mark
+that he had nothing to be afraid of.  But he isn't playing fair; he
+wants to get Mark out of the way because of the girl.  Well, this
+is his chance.  He makes Mark as frightened as possible, and tells
+him that his only hope is to run away.  Well, naturally, he does all
+he can to get him well away, because if Mark is caught, the whole
+story of Cayley's treachery comes out."
+
+"Yes.  But isn't it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything?  It wastes a good deal of time, you
+know."
+
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, "Oh!" in great disappointment.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that, Bill," said Antony with a smile.  "I
+daresay the underclothes could be explained.  But here's the
+difficulty.  Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or
+whatever it was, when Cayley was the only person who saw him in
+brown?"
+
+"The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit."
+
+"Yes, because Cayley told the police.  You see, even if Mark had
+had lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it, Cayley
+could always have pretended that he had changed into blue after
+lunch, because only Cayley saw him afterwards.  So if Cayley had
+told the Inspector that he was wearing blue, Mark could have escaped
+quite comfortably in his brown, without needing to change at all."
+
+"But that's just what he did do," cried Bill triumphantly.  "What
+fools we are!"
+
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+
+"Yes, yes!" insisted Bill.  "Of course!  Don't you see?  Mark did
+change after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting
+away, Cayley lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in
+which the servants had seen him.  Well, then he was afraid that the
+police might examine Mark's clothes and find the brown suit still
+there, so he hid it, and then dropped it in the pond afterwards."
+
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing.  Bill
+began to speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+
+"Don't say anything more, old boy; you've given me quite enough to
+think about.  Don't let's bother about it to-night.  We'll just have
+a look at this cupboard and then get to bed."
+
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night.  It was
+empty save for a few old bottles.
+
+"Well, that's that," said Bill.
+
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to
+search for something.
+
+"What are you looking for?" asked Bill at last.
+
+"Something that isn't there," said Antony, getting up and dusting
+his trousers.  And he locked the door again.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Guess-work
+
+
+The inquest was at three o'clock; thereafter Antony could have no
+claim on the hospitality of the Red House.  By ten o'clock his bag
+was packed, and waiting to be taken to the "George."  To Bill,
+coming upstairs after a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning
+bustle was a little surprising.
+
+"What's the hurry?" he asked.
+
+"None.  But we don't want to come back here after the inquest.  Get
+your packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves."
+
+"Righto."  He turned to go to his room, and then came back again.
+"I say, are we going to tell Cayley that we're staying at the
+'George'?"
+
+"You're not staying at the 'George,' Bill.  Not officially.  You're
+going back to London."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes.  Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready for
+you when you catch a train there after the inquest.  You can tell
+him that you've got to see the Bishop of London at once.  The fact
+that you are hurrying back to London to be confirmed will make it
+seem more natural that I should resume my interrupted solitude at
+the 'George' as soon as you have gone."
+
+"Then where do I sleep to-night?"
+
+Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect,
+in my bed, unless they've got another spare room at the 'George.'
+I've put your confirmation robe - I mean your pyjamas and brushes
+and things - in my bag, ready for, you.  Is there anything else
+you want to know?  No?  Then go and pack.  And meet me at
+ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in the hall or somewhere.
+I want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my Watson."
+
+"Good," said Bill, and went on to his room.
+
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to Cayley,
+they wandered out together into the park.
+
+"Well?" said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree.
+"Talk away."
+
+"I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning," began Antony.
+"The brightest one of all was that we were being damn fools, and
+working at this thing from the wrong end altogether."
+
+"Well, that's helpful."
+
+"Of course it's very hampering being a detective, when you don't
+know anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you're
+doing detection, and you can't have people up to cross-examine
+them, and you have neither the energy nor the means to make
+proper inquiries; and, in short, when you're doing the whole thing
+in a thoroughly amateur, haphazard way.
+
+"For amateurs I don't think we're doing at all badly," protested
+Bill.
+
+"No; not for amateurs.  But if we had been professionals, I believe
+we should have gone at it from the other end.  The Robert end.
+We've been wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time.  Now let's
+wonder about Robert for a bit."
+
+"We know so little about him."
+
+"Well, let's see what we do know.  First of all, then, we know
+vaguely that he was a bad lot - the sort of brother who is hushed
+up in front of other people."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a
+rather unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then we know rather a curious thing.  We know that Mark told
+you all that this black sheep was coming.  Now, why did he tell you?"
+
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+
+"I suppose," he said slowly, "that he knew we were bound to see him,
+and thought that the best way was to be quite frank about him."
+
+"But were you bound to see him?  You were all away playing golf."
+
+"We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night."
+
+"Very well, then.  That's one thing we've discovered.  Mark knew
+that Robert was staying in the house that night.  Or shall we put
+it this way - he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert
+out of the house at once."
+
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+
+"Go on," he said.  "This is getting interesting."
+
+"He also knew something else," went on Antony.  "He knew that Robert
+was bound to betray his real character to you as soon as you met
+him.  He couldn't pass him off on you as just a travelled brother
+from the Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he had to tell
+you at once, because you were bound to find out, that Robert was a
+wastrel."
+
+"Yes.  That's sound enough."
+
+"Well, now, doesn't it strike you that Mark made up his mind about
+all that rather quickly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"He got this letter at breakfast.  He read it; and directly he had
+read it he began to confide in you all.  That is to say, in about
+one second he thought out the whole business and came to a decision
+ - to two decisions.  He considered the possibility of getting Robert
+out of the way before you came back, and decided that it was
+impossible.  He considered the possibility of Robert's behaving like
+an ordinary decent person in public, and decided that it was very
+unlikely.  He came to those two decisions instantaneously, as he was
+reading the letter.  Isn't that rather quick work?"
+
+"Well, what's the explanation?"
+
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+
+"What's the explanation?  Well, let's leave it for a moment and take
+another look at the two brothers.  In conjunction, this time, with
+Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"Mrs. Norbury?" said Bill, surprised.
+
+"Yes.  Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury.  Now, if Robert really was
+a blot upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of two
+things.  Either keep it from the Norburys altogether, or else, if
+it had to come out, tell them himself before the news came to them
+indirectly.  Well, he told them.  But the funny thing is that he
+told them the day before Robert's letter came.  Robert came, and
+was killed, the day before yesterday - Tuesday.  Mark told Mrs.
+Norbury about him on Monday.  What do you make of that?"
+
+"Coincidence," said Bill, after careful thought.  "He'd always
+meant to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it was
+finally settled, he told her.  That happened to be Monday.  On
+Tuesday he got Robert's letter, and felt jolly glad that he'd told
+her in time."
+
+"Well, it might be that, but it's rather a curious coincidence.
+And here is something which makes it very curious indeed.  It only
+occurred to me in the bath this morning.  Inspiring place, a
+bathroom.  Well, it's this - he told her on Monday morning, on his
+way to Middleston in the car."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well."
+
+"Sorry, Tony; I'm dense this morning."
+
+"In the car, Bill.  And how near can the car get to Jallands?"
+
+"About six hundred yards."
+
+"Yes.  And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other, Mark
+stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to Jallands,
+says, 'Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don't think I ever told you
+that I have a shady brother called Robert,' walks six hundred yards
+up the hill again, gets into the car, and goes off to Middleston.
+Is that likely?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily.
+
+"Yes, but I don't see what you're getting at.  Likely or not likely,
+we know he did do it."
+
+"Of course he did.  All I mean is that he must have had some strong
+reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once.  And the reason I suggest
+is that he knew on that morning - Monday morning, not Tuesday - that
+Robert was coming to see him, and had to be in first with the news.
+
+"But - but -"
+
+"And that would explain the other point - his instantaneous decision
+at breakfast to tell you all about his brother.  It wasn't
+instantaneous.  He knew on Monday that Robert was coming, and decided
+then that you would all have to know."
+
+"Then how do you explain the letter?"
+
+"Well, let's have a look at it."
+
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the grass
+between them.
+
+"Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the
+way from Australia.  I give you warning, so that you will be able
+to conceal your surprise but not I hope your pleasure.  Expect him
+at three or thereabouts."
+
+"No date mentioned, you see," said Antony.  "Just to-morrow.
+
+"But he got this on Tuesday."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday."
+
+"Oh, yes!  he read it out to you.
+
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at
+the back of it.  The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+
+"What about the postmark?" he asked.
+
+"We haven't got the envelope, unfortunately."
+
+"And you think that he got this letter on Monday."
+
+"I'm inclined to think so, Bill.  Anyhow, I think - I feel almost
+certain - that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming."
+
+"Is that going to help us much?"
+
+"No.  It makes it more difficult.  There's something rather uncanny
+about it all.  I don't understand it."  He was silent for a little,
+and then added, "I wonder if the inquest is going to help us.
+
+"What about last night?  I'm longing to hear what you make of that.
+Have you been thinking it out at all?"
+
+"Last night," said Antony thoughtfully to himself.  "Yes, last night
+wants some explaining."
+
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain.  What, for instance, had
+Antony been looking for in the cupboard?
+
+"I think," began Antony slowly, "that after last night we must give
+up the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by Cayley.
+I don't believe anybody would go to so much trouble to hide a suit
+of clothes when he had a body on his hands.  The body would seem so
+much more important.  I think we may take it now that the clothes
+are all that Cayley had to hide."
+
+"But why not have kept them in the passage?"
+
+"He was frightened of the passage.  Miss Norris knew about it."
+
+"Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark's.  For all you
+or I or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits.  He
+probably had, I should think."
+
+"Probably.  But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley.  The brown
+suit hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden.
+We all know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most
+obvious, but in practice very few people have the nerve to risk it."
+
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+
+"Then we just come back to where we were," he complained.  "Mark
+killed his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the
+passage; either in order to compromise him, or because there was
+no other way out of it.  And he helped him by telling a lie about
+his brown suit."
+
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+
+"Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically.  "There's only one murder,
+after all.  I'm awfully sorry about it.  It was my fault for -"
+
+"Shut up, you ass.  You know I didn't mean that."
+
+"Well, you seemed awfully disappointed."
+
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh
+confessed.
+
+"It was so exciting yesterday," he said apologetically, "and we
+seemed to be just getting there, and discovering the most wonderful
+things, and now -"
+
+"And now?"
+
+"Well, it's so much more ordinary."
+
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+
+"Ordinary!" he cried.  "Ordinary!  Well, I'm dashed!  Ordinary!  If
+only one thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do
+something, but everything is ridiculous."  Bill brightened up again.
+
+"Ridiculous?  How?"
+
+"Every way.  Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night.  You
+can explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes.  You can
+explain the underclothes in some absurd way, if you like - you can
+say that Mark always changed his underclothes whenever he interviewed
+anybody from Australia - but why, in that case, my dear Watson, why
+didn't he change his collar?"
+
+"His collar?" said Bill in amazement.
+
+"His collar, Watson."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"And it's all so ordinary," scoffed Antony.
+
+"Sorry, Tony, I didn't mean that.  Tell me about the collar."
+
+"Well, that's all.  There was no collar in the bag last night.
+Shirt, socks, tie - everything except a collar.  Why?"
+
+"Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?"  said Bill
+eagerly.
+
+"Of course.  'Why no collar?' I, said.  For some reason Cayley
+considered it necessary to hide all Mark's clothes; not just the
+suit, but everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be wearing,
+at the time of the murder.  But he hadn't hidden the collar.  Why?
+Had he left it out by mistake?  So I looked in the cupboard.  It
+wasn't there.  Had he left it out on purpose?  If so, why? - and
+where was it?  Naturally I began to say to myself, 'Where have I
+seen a collar lately?  A collar all by itself?' And I remembered
+ - what, Bill?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+
+Don't ask me, Tony.  I can't - By Jove!"  He threw up his head,
+"In the basket in the office bedroom!"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But is that the one?"
+
+"The one that goes with the rest of the clothes?  I don't know.
+Where else can it be?  But if so, why send the collar quite casually
+to the wash in the ordinary way, and take immense trouble to hide
+everything else?  Why, why, why?"
+
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+
+"Anyhow," said Antony, getting up restlessly, "I'm certain of one
+thing.  Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Inquest
+
+
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the
+terrible nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate
+that afternoon, proceeded to outline the case to the jury.
+Witnesses would be called to identify the deceased as Robert
+Ablett, the brother of the owner of the Red House, Mark Ablett.
+It would be shown that he was something of a ne'er-do-well, who
+had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he had announced,
+in what might almost be called a threatening letter, his intention
+of visiting his brother that afternoon.  There would be evidence
+of his arrival, of his being shown into the scene of the tragedy
+ - a room in the Red House, commonly called "the office" - and of
+his brother's entrance into that room.  The jury would have to form
+their own opinion as to what happened there.  But whatever happened,
+happened almost instantaneously.  Within two minutes of Mark Abletts
+entrance, as would be shown in the evidence, a shot was heard, and
+when - perhaps five minutes later - the room was forced open, the
+dead body of Robert Ablett was found stretched upon the floor.  As
+regards Mark Ablett, nobody had seen him from the moment of his
+going into the room, but evidence would be called to show that he
+had enough money on him at the time to take him to any other part
+of the country, and that a man answering to his description had
+been observed on the platform of Stanton station, apparently waiting
+to catch the 3.55 up train to London.  As the jury would realize,
+such evidence of identity was not always reliable.  Missing men had
+a way of being seen in a dozen different places at once.  In any
+case, there was no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had
+disappeared.
+
+"Seems a sound man," whispered Antony to Bill.  "Doesn't talk
+too much."
+
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence - he knew
+the facts of the case so well by now - but he wondered if Inspector
+Birch had developed any new theories.  If so, they would appear in 
+he Coroner's examination, for the Coroner would certainly have been
+coached by the police as to the important facts to be extracted
+from each witness.  Bill was the first to be put through it.
+
+"Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?" he was asked when his chief
+evidence was over.  "Did you see it at all?"
+
+"I didn't see the actual writing.  I saw the back of it. Mark was
+holding it up when he told us about his brother."
+
+"You don't know what was in it, then?"
+
+Bill had a sudden shock.  He had read the letter only that morning.
+He knew quite well what was in it.  But it wouldn't do to admit this.
+And then, just as he was about to perjure himself, he remembered:
+Antony had heard Cayley telling the Inspector.
+
+"I knew afterwards.  I was told.  But Mark didn't read it out at
+breakfast."
+
+"You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?"
+
+"Not frightened.  Sort of bitter - and resigned.  Sort of 'Oh, Lord,
+here we are again!'"
+
+There was a titter here and there.  The Coroner smiled, and tried
+to pretend that he hadn't.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Beverley."
+
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and
+Antony looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+
+"He lives at the inner lodge," whispered Bill to him.
+
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his
+lodge at a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to
+him.  He had seen the body and recognized it as the man.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"'Is this right for the Red House?' or something like that, sir.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said, 'This is the Red House.  Who do you want to see?'  He was
+a bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn't know what he was
+doing there."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, sir, he said, 'Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?'  It doesn't
+sound much put like that, sir, but I didn't care about the way he
+said it.  So I got in front of him like, and said, 'What do you
+want, eh?' and he gave a sort of chuckle and said, 'I want to see
+my dear brother Mark.'  Well, then I took a closer look at him,
+and I see that p'raps he might be his brother, so I.  said, 'If
+you'll follow the drive, sir, you'll come to the house.  Of course
+I can't say if Mr. Ablett's at home.'  And he gave a sort of nasty
+laugh again, and said, 'Fine place Mister Mark Ablett's got here.
+Plenty of money to spend, eh?'  Well, then I had another look at
+him, sir, because gentlemen don't talk like that, and if he was
+Mr. Ablett's brother - but before I could make up my mind, he
+laughed and went on.  That's all I can tell you, sir."
+
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room,
+nor did Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that Amos
+intended to remain there until the inquest was over.
+
+"Who's Amos talking to now?" he whispered to Bill.
+
+"Parsons.  One of the gardeners.  He's at the outside lodge on the
+Stanton road.  They're all here to-day.  Sort of holiday for em.
+
+"I wonder if he's giving evidence too," thought Antony.  He was.
+He followed Amos.  He had been at work on the lawn in front of the
+house, and had seen Robert Ablett arrive.  He didn't hear the shot
+ - not to notice.  He was a little hard of hearing.  He had seen a
+gentleman arrive about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+
+"Can you see him in court now?" asked the Coroner.  Parsons looked
+round slowly.  Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+
+"That's him," said Parsons, pointing.
+
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+
+"That was about five minutes afterwards?"
+
+"About that, sir."
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman's arrival?"
+
+"No, sir.  That is to say I didn't see 'em."
+
+Stevens followed.  She gave her evidence much as she had given it
+to the Inspector.  Nothing new was brought out by her examination.
+Then came Elsie.  As the reporters scribbled down what she had
+overheard, they added in brackets "Sensation" for the first time
+that afternoon.
+
+"How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?" asked the
+Coroner.
+
+"Almost at once, sir."
+
+"A minute?"
+
+"I couldn't really say, sir.  It was so quick."
+
+"Were you still in the hall?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir.  I was just outside Mrs. Stevens' room.  The
+housekeeper, sir."
+
+"You didn't think of going back to the hall to see what had
+happened?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir.  I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, 'Oh,
+what was that?' frightened-like.  And I said, 'That was in the
+house, Mrs. Stevens, that was.'  Just like something going off, it
+was."
+
+"Thank you," said the Coroner.
+
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley went
+into the witness-box; not "Sensation" this time, but an eager and,
+as it seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest.  Now they were
+getting to grips with the drama.
+
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally - the lies with the
+same slow deliberation as the truth.  Antony watched him intently,
+wondering what it was about him which had this odd sort of
+attractiveness.  For Antony, who knew that he was lying, and lying
+(as he believed) not for Mark's sake but his own, yet could not
+help sharing some of that general sympathy with him.
+
+"Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"Not to my knowledge.  I think I should have known if he had been."
+
+"You were alone with him all that morning.  Did he talk about this
+visit of Robert's at all?"
+
+"I didn't see very much of him in the morning.  I was at work in my
+room, and outside, and so on.  We lunched together and he talked of
+it then a little."
+
+"In what terms?"
+
+"Well-" he hesitated, and then went on.  "I can't think of a better
+word than 'peevishly.'  Occasionally he said, 'What do you think he
+wants?' or 'Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?' or 'I don't
+like the tone of his letter.  Do you think he means trouble?'  He
+talked rather in that kind of way.
+
+"Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in England?"
+
+"I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day."
+
+"Yes.... You didn't hear any conversation between the brothers when
+they were in the office together?"
+
+"No.  I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone
+in, and I was there all the time."
+
+"Was the library door open?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Did you see or hear the last witness at all?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the library,
+would you have heard it?"
+
+"I think so.  Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose."
+
+"Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?"
+
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+
+"Hasty-tempered, yes," he said.  "But not violent-tempered."
+
+"Was he fairly athletic?  Active and quick?"
+
+"Active and quick, yes.  Not particularly strong."
+
+"Yes....  One question more.  Was Mark in the habit of carrying any
+considerable sum of money about with him?"
+
+"Yes.  He always had one 100 pound note on him, and perhaps ten or
+twenty pounds as well." 
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Cayley."
+
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat.  "Damn it," said Antony to
+himself, "why do I like the fellow?"
+
+"Antony Gillingham!"
+
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt.  Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+
+He explained how he came to be staying at the "George" at Waldheim,
+how he had heard that the Red House was in the neighbourhood, how
+he had walked over to see his friend Beverley, and had arrived just
+after the tragedy.  Thinking it over afterwards be was fairly
+certain that he had heard the shot, but it had not made any
+impression on him at the time.  He had come to the house from the
+Waldheim end and consequently had seen nothing of Robert Ablett, who
+had been a few minutes in front of him.  From this point his
+evidence coincided with Cayley's.
+
+"You and the last witness reached the French windows together and
+found them shut?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You pushed them in and came to the body.  Of course you had no
+idea whose body it was?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did Mr. Cayley say anything?"
+
+"He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he
+saw it, he said, 'Thank God.'
+
+Again the reporters wrote "Sensation."
+
+"Did you understand what he meant by that?"
+
+"I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett.
+Then he explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin with
+whom he lived - Mark."
+
+"Yes.  Did he seem upset?"
+
+"Very much so at first.  Less when he found that it wasn't Mark."
+
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd at
+the back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and stared
+sternly in the direction from which it came.  The nervous gentleman
+hastily decided that the time had come to do up his bootlace.  The
+Coroner put down his glasses and continued.
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the
+drive?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+He was followed by Inspector Birch.  The Inspector, realizing that
+this was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were upon
+him, produced a plan of the house and explained the situation of
+the different rooms.  The plan was then handed to the jury.
+
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red House
+at 4.42 p.m.  on the afternoon in question.  He had been received
+by Mr. Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to him, and
+he had then proceeded to examine the scene of the crime.  The French
+windows had been forced from outside.  The door leading into the
+hall was locked; he had searched the room thoroughly and had found
+no trace of a key.  In the bedroom leading out of the office he had
+found an open window.  There were no marks on the window, but it
+was a low one, and, as he found from experiment, quite easy to step
+out of without touching it with the boots.  A few yards outside the
+window a shrubbery began.  There were no recent footmarks outside
+the window, but the ground was in a very hard condition owing to
+the absence of rain.  In the shrubbery, however, he found several
+twigs on the ground, recently broken off, together with other
+evidence that some body had been forcing its way through.  He had
+questioned everybody connected with the estate, and none of them
+had been into the shrubbery recently.  By forcing a way through the
+shrubbery it was possible for a person to make a detour of the
+house and get to the Stanton end of the park without ever being
+in sight of the house itself.
+
+He had made inquiries about the deceased.  Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble
+at home.  Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from which
+he and his brother had come.  Deceased and his brother had never
+been on good terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come into
+money had been a cause of great bitterness between them.  It was
+shortly after this that Robert had left for Australia.
+
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station.  It had been market-day
+at Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than
+usual.  Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert
+Ablett; there had been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train
+that afternoon, the train by which Robert had undoubtedly come
+from London.  A witness, however, would state that he noticed a
+man resembling Mark Ablett at the station at 3.53 p.m.  that
+afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to town.
+
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House.  He had dragged
+this, but without result....
+
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all
+the time.  Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be
+got from that.  He felt so close to the truth; at any moment
+something might give his brain the one little hint which it wanted.
+Inspector Birch was just pursuing the ordinary.  Whatever else this
+case was, it was not ordinary.  There was something uncanny about it.
+
+John Borden was giving evidence.  He was on the up platform seeing
+a friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon.  He had noticed a
+man on the platform with coat collar turned up and a scarf round
+his chin.  He had wondered why the man should do this on such a
+hot day.  The man seemed to be trying to escape observation.
+Directly the train came in, he hurried into a carriage.  And so on.
+
+"There's always a John Borden at every murder case, said Antony to
+himself.
+
+"Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?"
+
+"Once or twice, sir."
+
+"Was it he?"
+
+"I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar
+turned up and the scarf and all.  But directly I heard of the sad
+affair, and that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden,
+'Now I wonder if that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?'  So
+then we talked it over and decided that I ought to come and tell
+Inspector Birch.  It was just Mr. Ablett's height, sir."
+
+Antony went on with his thoughts.... 
+
+The Coroner was summing up.  The jury, he said, had now heard all
+the evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that
+room between the two brothers.  How had the deceased met his death?
+The medical evidence would probably satisfy them that Robert Ablett
+had died from the effects of a bullet-wound in the head.  Who had
+fired that bullet?  If Robert Ablett had fired it himself, no doubt
+they would bring in a verdict of suicide, but if this had been so,
+where was the revolver which had fired it, and what had become of
+Mark Ablett?  If they disbelieved in this possibility of suicide,
+what remained?  Accidental death, justifiable.  homicide, and murder.
+Could the deceased have been killed accidentally?  It was possible,
+but then would Mark Ablett have run away?  The evidence that he had
+run away from the scene of the crime was strong.  His cousin had
+seen him go into the room, the servant Elsie Wood had heard him
+quarrelling with his brother in the room, the door had been locked
+from the inside, and there were signs that outside the open window
+some one had pushed his way very recently through the shrubbery.
+Who, if not Mark?  They would have then to consider whether he
+would have run away if he had been guiltless of his brother's death.
+No doubt innocent people lost their heads sometimes.  It was
+possible that if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had
+shot his brother, it might also be proved that he was justified in
+so doing, and that when he ran away from his brother's corpse he
+had really nothing to fear at the hands of the Law.  In this
+connexion he need hardly remind the jury that they were not the
+final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett guilty of murder
+it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when he was
+apprehended....  The jury could consider their verdict.
+
+They considered it.  They announced that the deceased had died as
+the result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired
+by his brother Mark Ablett.
+
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side.  But Antony was gone.
+Across the room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the
+door together, and Antony was between them.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+
+
+The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton
+Robert Ablett was to be buried next day.  Bill waited about outside
+for his friend, wondering where he had gone.  Then, realizing that
+Cayley would be coming out to his car directly, and that a farewell
+talk with Cayley would be a little embarrassing, he wandered round
+to the yard at the back of the inn, lit a cigarette, and stood
+surveying a torn and weather-beaten poster on the stable wall.
+"GRAND THEATRICAL ENTER" it announced, to take place on "Wednesday,
+Decem."  Bill smiled to himself as he looked at it, for the part
+of Joe, a loquacious postman, had been played by "William B. Beverl,"
+as the remnants of the poster still maintained, and he had been much
+less loquacious than the author had intended, having forgotten his
+words completely, but it had all been great fun.  And then he
+stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun now at the Red House.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him.
+"My old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."
+
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled happily
+at him.
+
+"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little resentfully.
+"I couldn't think where on earth you had got to."
+
+Antony didn't say anything.  He was staring at the poster.
+
+"When did this happen?" he asked.
+
+"What?"
+
+Antony waved to the poster.
+
+"Oh, that?  Last Christmas.  It was rather fun."
+
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+
+"Were you good?"
+
+"Rotten.  I don't profess to be an actor."
+
+"Mark good?"
+
+"Oh, rather.  He loves it."
+
+"Rev. Henry Stutters - Mr. Matthew Cay," read Antony.
+
+"Was that our friend Cayley?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Any good?"
+
+"Well, much better than I expected.  He wasn't keen, but Mark made
+him."
+
+"Miss Norris wasn't playing, I see."
+
+"My dear Tony, she's a professional.  Of course she wasn't."
+
+Antony laughed again.
+
+"A great success, was it?"
+
+"Oh.  rather!"
+
+"I'm a fool, and a damned fool," Antony announced solemnly.  "And
+a damned fool," he said again under his breath, as he led Bill away
+from the poster, and out of the yard into the road.  "And a damned
+fool.  Even now -"  He broke off and then asked suddenly, "Did Mark
+ever have much trouble with his teeth?"
+
+"He went to his dentist a good deal.  But what on earth -"
+
+Antony laughed a third time.
+
+"What luck!" he chuckled.  "But how do you know?"
+
+"We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me.  Cartwright, in
+Wimpole Street."
+
+"Cartwright in Wimpole Street," repeated Antony thoughtfully.  "Yes,
+I can remember that.  Cartwright in Wimpole Street.  Did Cayley go
+to him too, by any chance?"
+
+"I expect so.  Oh, yes, I know he did.  But what on earth -"
+
+"What was Mark's general health like?  Did he see a doctor much?"
+
+"Hardly at all, I should think.  He did a lot of early morning
+exercises which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at
+breakfast.  They didn't do that, but they seemed to keep him pretty
+fit.  Tony, I wish you'd -"
+
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+
+"One last question," he said.  "Was Mark fond of swimming?"
+
+"No, he hated it.  I don't believe he could swim.  Tony, are you
+mad, or am I?  Or is this a new game?"
+
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+
+"Dear old Bill," he said.  "It's a game.  What a game!  And the
+answer is Cartwright in Wimpole Street."
+
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to
+Waldheim.  Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to talk,
+but Antony had only grunted in reply.  He was just going to make
+another attempt, when Antony came to a sudden stop and turned to
+him anxiously.
+
+"I wonder if you'd do something for me," he said, looking at him
+with some doubt.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it's really dashed important.  It's just the one thing I
+want now.
+
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+
+"I say, have you really found it all out?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"At least, I'm very nearly there, Bill.  There's just this one thing
+I want now.  It means your going back to Stanton.  Well, we haven't
+come far; it won't take you long.  Do you mind?"
+
+"My dear Holmes, I am at your service."
+
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+
+"Is there another inn at Stanton-fairly close to the station?"
+
+"The 'Plough and Horses' - just at the corner where the road goes
+up to the station - is that the one you mean?"
+
+"That would be the one.  I suppose you could do with a drink,
+couldn't you?"
+
+"Rather!" said Bill, with a grin.
+
+"Good.  Then have one at the 'Plough and Horses.'  Have two, if you
+like, and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever serves you.
+I want you to find out if anybody stayed there on Monday night."
+
+"Robert?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"I didn't say Robert," said Antony, smiling.  "I just want you to
+find out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night.  A
+stranger.  If so, then any particulars you can get of him, without
+letting the landlord know that you are interested -"
+
+"Leave it to me," broke in Bill.  "I know just what you want."
+
+"Don't assume that it was Robert - or anybody else.  Let them
+describe the man to you.  Don't influence them unconsciously by
+suggesting that he was short or tall, or anything of that sort.
+Just get them talking.  If it's the landlord, you'd better stand
+him a drink or two."
+
+"Right you are," said Bill confidently.  "Where do I meet you again?"
+
+"Probably at the 'George.'  If you get there before me, you can
+order dinner for eight o'clock.  Anyhow we'll meet at eight, if not
+before."
+
+"Good."  He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton again.
+
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm.
+Then he looked round slowly, as if in search of something.  Suddenly
+he saw what he wanted.  Twenty yards farther on a lane wandered off
+to the left, and there was a gate a little way up on the right-hand
+side of it.  Antony walked to the gate, filling his pipe as he went.
+Then he lit his pipe, sat on the gate, and took his head in his
+hands.
+
+"Now then," he said to himself, "let's begin at the beginning."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at the "George," to find
+Antony, cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting
+for him.
+
+"Is dinner ready?" were Bill's first words.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I'll just have a wash.  Lord, I'm tired."
+
+"I never ought to have asked you," said Antony penitently.
+
+"That's all right.  I shan't be a moment."  Half-way up the stairs
+he turned round and asked, "Am I in your room?"
+
+"Yes.  Do you know the way?"
+
+"Yes.  Start carving, will you?  And order lots of beer."  He
+disappeared round the top of the staircase.  Antony went slowly in.
+
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able
+to spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an account
+of his adventures.  The landlord of the "Plough and Horses" had been
+sticky, decidedly sticky - Bill had been unable at first to get
+anything out of him.  But Bill had been tactful; lorblessyou, how
+tactful he had been.
+
+"He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had been,
+and so on, and how there'd been an inquest in his wife's family
+once, which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept saying, 'Pretty
+busy, I suppose, just now, what?' and then he'd say, 'Middlin',' and
+go on again about Susan - that was the one that had the inquest - he
+talked about it as if it were a disease - and then I'd try again,
+and say, 'Slack times, I expect, just now, eh?' and he'd say
+'Middlin' again, and then it was time to offer him another drink, and
+I didn't seem to be getting much nearer.  But I got him at last.  I
+asked him if he knew John Borden - he was the man who said he'd seen
+Mark at the station.  Well, he knew all about Borden, and after he'd
+told me all about Borden's wife's family, and how one of them had been
+burnt to death - after you with the beer; thanks - well, then I said
+carelessly that it must be very hard to remember anybody whom you
+had just seen once, so as to identify him afterwards, and he agreed
+that it would be 'middlin' hard,' and then -"
+
+"Give me three guesses," interrupted Antony.  "You asked him if he
+remembered everybody who came to his inn?"
+
+"That's it.  Bright, wasn't it?"
+
+"Brilliant.  And what was the result?"
+
+"The result was a woman."
+
+"A woman?" said Antony eagerly.
+
+"A woman," said Bill impressively.  "Of course I thought it was
+going to be Robert - so did you, didn't you? - but it wasn't.  It
+was a woman.  Came quite late on Monday night in a car - driving
+herself - went off early next morning."
+
+"Did he describe her?"
+
+"Yes.  She was middlin'.  Middlin' tall, middlin' age, middlin'
+colour, and so on.  Doesn't help much, does it?  But still - a
+woman.  Does that upset your theory?"
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, Bill, not at all," he said.
+
+"You knew all the time?  At least, you guessed?"
+
+"Wait till to-morrow.  I'll tell you everything to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing to-night, if you'll promise not to
+ask any more questions.  But you probably know it already."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Only that Mark Albett did not kill his brother."
+
+"And Cayley did?"
+
+"That's another question, Bill.  However, the answer is that Cayley
+didn't, either."
+
+"Then who on earth -"
+
+"Have some more beer," said Antony with a smile.  And Bill had to
+be content with that.
+
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired.
+Bill slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering.
+What was happening at the Red House now?  Perhaps he would hear in
+the morning; perhaps he would get a letter.  He went over the whole
+story again from the beginning - was there any possibility of a
+mistake?  What would the police do?  Would they ever find out?
+Ought he to have told them?  Well, let them find out; it was their
+job.  Surely he couldn't have made a mistake this time.  No good
+wondering now; he would know definitely in the morning.
+
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Cayley's Apology
+
+
+"My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+
+"I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries
+which you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and
+that in this case my arrest on a charge of murder would inevitably
+follow.  Why, in these circumstances, you should give me such ample
+warning of your intentions I do not understand, unless it is that
+you are not wholly out of sympathy with me.  But whether or not
+you sympathize, at any rate you will want to know - and I want you
+to know - the exact manner in which Ablett met his death and the
+reasons which made that death necessary.  If the police have to be
+told anything, I would rather that they too knew the whole story.
+They, and even you, may call it murder, but by that time I shall
+be out of the way.  Let them call it what they like.
+
+"I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years ago,
+when I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of twenty-five.
+His whole life was make-believe, and just now he was pretending to
+be a philanthropist.  He sat in our little drawing-room, flicking
+his gloves against the back of his left hand, and my mother, good
+soul, thought what a noble young gentleman he was, and Philip and
+I, hastily washed and crammed into collars, stood in front of him,
+nudging each other and kicking the backs of our heels and cursing
+him in our hearts for having interrupted our game.  He had decided
+to adopt one of us, kind Cousin Mark.  Heaven knows why he chose me.
+Philip was eleven; two years longer to wait.  Perhaps that was why.
+
+"Well, Mark educated me.  I went to a public school and to
+Cambridge, and I became his secretary.  Well, much more than his
+secretary as your friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land
+agent, his financial adviser, his courier, his - but this most of
+all - his audience.  Mark could never live alone.  There must
+always be somebody to listen to him.  I think in his heart he hoped
+I should be his Boswell.  He told me one day that he had made me
+his literary executor - poor devil.  And he used to write me the
+absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters which I
+read once and then tore up.  The futility of the man!
+
+"It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble.  He had been
+hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London office,
+and discovered there that there was not much fun to be got in this
+world on two pounds a week.  I had a frantic letter from him one
+day, saying that he must have a hundred at once, or he would be
+ruined, and I went to Mark for the money.  Only to borrow it, you
+understand; he gave me a good salary and I could have paid it back
+in three months.  But no.  He saw nothing for himself in it, I
+suppose; no applause, no admiration.  Philip's gratitude would be
+to me, not to him.  I begged, I threatened, we argued; and while
+we were arguing, Philip was arrested.  It killed my mother - he was
+always her favourite - but Mark, as usual, got his satisfaction out
+of it.  He preened himself on his judgment of character in having
+chosen me and not Philip twelve years before!
+
+"Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said
+to him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with his
+accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to each
+other, from that day forward, though his vanity would never let him
+see it, I was his bitterest enemy.  If that had been all, I wonder
+if I should have killed him?  To live on terms of intimate friendship
+with a man whom you hate is dangerous work for your friend.  Because
+of his belief in me as his admiring and grateful protege and his
+belief in himself as my benefactor, he was now utterly in my power.
+I could take my time and choose my opportunity.  Perhaps I should
+not have killed him, but I had sworn to have my revenge - and there
+he was, poor vain fool, at my mercy.  I was in no hurry.
+
+"Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge
+was being taken out of my hands.  Mark began to drink.  Could I have
+stopped him?  I don't think so, but to my immense surprise I found
+myself trying to.  Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of reason;
+or did I reason it out and tell myself that, if he drank himself to
+death, I should lose my revenge?  Upon my word, I cannot tell you;
+but, for whatever motive, I did genuinely want to stop it.  Drinking
+is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+
+"I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so that
+nobody but myself knew his secret.  Yes, I kept him outwardly decent;
+and perhaps now I was becoming like the cannibal who keeps his victim
+in good condition for his own ends.  I used to gloat over Mark,
+thinking how utterly he was mine to ruin as I pleased, financially,
+morally, whatever way would give me most satisfaction.  I had but
+to take my hand away from him and he sank.  But again I was in no
+hurry.
+
+"Then he killed himself.  That futile little drunkard, eaten up with
+his own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to the
+truest and purest woman on this earth.  You have seen her, Mr.
+Gillingham, but you never knew Mark Ablett.  Even if he had not been
+a drunkard, there was no chance for her of happiness with him.  I
+had known him for many years, but never once had I seen him moved
+by any generous emotion.  To have lived with that shrivelled little
+soul would have been hell for her; and a thousand times worse hell
+when he began to drink.
+
+"So he had to be killed.  I was the only one left to protect her,
+for her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin.  I
+would have shot him openly for her sake, and with what gladness, but
+I had no mind to sacrifice myself needlessly.  He was in my power;
+I could persuade him to almost anything by flattery; surely it would
+not be difficult to give his death the appearance of an accident.
+
+"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I
+made and rejected.  For some days I inclined towards an unfortunate
+boating accident in the pond - Mark, a very indifferent swimmer,
+myself almost exhausted in a gallant attempt to hold him up.  And
+then he himself gave me the idea, he and Miss Norris between them,
+and so put himself in my hands; without risk of discovery, I should
+have said, had you not discovered me.
+
+"We were talking about ghosts.  Mark had been even more vain,
+pompous and absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris was
+irritated by it.  After dinner she suggested dressing up as a ghost
+and frightening him.  I thought it my duty to warn her that Mark
+took any joke against himself badly, but she was determined to do
+it.  I gave way reluctantly.  Reluctantly, also, I told her the
+secret of the passage.  (There is an underground passage from the
+library to the bowling-green.  You should exercise your ingenuity,
+Mr. Gillingham, in trying to discover it.  Mark came upon it by
+accident a year ago.  It was a godsend to him; he could drink there
+in greater secrecy.  But he had to tell me about it.  He wanted an
+audience, even for his vices.)
+
+"I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan that
+Mark should be thoroughly frightened.  Without the passage she could
+never have got close enough to the bowling-green to alarm him
+properly, but as I arranged it with her she made the most effective
+appearance, and Mark was in just the state of rage and vindictiveness
+which I required.  Miss Norris, you understand, is a professional
+actress.  I need not say that to her I appeared to be animated by no
+other feeling than a boyish desire to bring off a good joke - a joke
+directed as much against the others as against Mark.
+
+"He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation.  Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again; I
+was to make a special note of it; never again.  It was outrageous.
+Had he not a reputation as a host to keep up, he would pack her off
+next morning.  As it was, she could stay; hospitality demanded it;
+but never again would she come to the Red House - he was absolutely
+determined about that.  I was to make a special note of it.
+
+"I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers.  She had
+behaved very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to show
+how much he disapproved of her.  And of course she would never come
+again - that was obvious.  And then suddenly I began to laugh.  He
+looked up at me indignantly.
+
+"'Is there a joke?" he said coldly.
+
+"I laughed gently again.
+
+"'I was just thinking,' I said, 'that it would be rather amusing if
+you - well, had your revenge.
+
+"'My revenge?  How do you mean?'
+
+"'Well, paid her back in her own coin.'
+
+"'Do you mean try and frighten her?'
+
+"'No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit.  Made her look
+a fool in front of the others.'  I laughed to myself again.  'Serve
+her jolly well right.'
+
+"He jumped up excitedly.
+
+"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried.  'If I could!  How?  You must think of
+a way.
+
+"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting.  He was
+an amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents, but as
+an actor he seemed to himself most wonderful.  Certainly he had some
+ability for the stage, so long as he had the stage to himself and
+was playing to an admiring audience.  As a professional actor in a
+small part he would have been hopeless; as an amateur playing the
+leading part, he deserved all that the local papers had ever said
+about him.  And so the idea of giving us a private performance,
+directed against a professional actress who had made fun of him,
+appealed equally to his vanity and his desire for retaliation.  If
+he, Mark Albett, by his wonderful acting could make Ruth Norris look
+a fool in front of the others, could take her in, and then join in
+the laugh at her afterwards, he would indeed have had a worthy
+revenge!
+
+"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham?   Ah, you never knew
+Mark Ablett.
+
+"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.
+
+"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested.  'It was just
+an idea.'
+
+"He began to think it out for himself.
+
+"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her - but I
+suppose she knows them all.  What about an interviewer?'
+
+"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully.  'You've got
+rather a characteristic face, you know.  And your beard -'
+
+"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.
+
+"'My dear Mark!'
+
+"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it off,
+anyhow.  And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm going to do
+it properly.'
+
+ "'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him admiringly.
+
+"He purred.  To be called an artist was what he longed for most.
+Now I knew that I had him.
+
+"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and moustache
+you might be recognizable.  Unless, of course -'  I broke off.
+
+"'Unless what?'
+
+"'You pretend to be Robert.'  I began to laugh to myself again.
+'By Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea.  Pretend to be Robert,
+the wastrel brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss Norris.
+Borrow money from her, and that sort of thing.'
+
+"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+
+"'Robert,' he said.  'Yes.  How shall we work it?'
+
+"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt you
+and the Inspector both discovered.  And he was a wastrel and he went
+to Australia.  But he never came to the Red House on Tuesday
+afternoon.  He couldn't have, because he died (unlamented) three
+years ago.  But there was nobody who knew this, save Mark and myself,
+for Mark was the only one of the family left, his sister having died
+last year.  Though I doubt, anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was
+alive or dead.  He was not talked about.
+
+"For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans.  You
+understand by now that our aims were not identical.  Mark's endeavour
+was that his deception should last for, say, a couple of hours; mine
+that it should go to the grave with him.  He had only to deceive
+Miss Norris and the other guests; I had to deceive the world.  When
+he was dressed up as Robert, I was going to kill him.  Robert would
+then be dead, Mark (of course) missing.  What could anybody think
+but that Mark had killed Robert?  But you see how important it was
+for Mark to enter fully into his latest (and last) impersonation.
+Half-measures would be fatal.
+
+"You will say that it was impossible so do the thing thoroughly
+enough.  I answer again that you never knew Mark.  He was being what
+he wished most to be - an artist.  No Othello ever blacked himself
+all over with such enthusiasm as did Mark.  His beard was going
+anyhow - possible a chance remark of Miss Norbury's helped here.
+She did not like beards.  But it was important for me that the dead
+man's hands should not be the hands of a manicured gentleman.  Five
+minutes playing upon the vanity of the artist settled his hands.  He
+let the nails grow and then cut them raggedly.  'Miss Norris would
+notice your hands at once,' I had said.  'Besides, as an artist -'
+
+"So with his underclothes.  It was hardly necessary to warn him that
+his pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an artist he
+had already decided upon Robertian pants.  I bought them, and other
+things, in London for him.  Even if I had not cut out all trace of
+the maker's name, he would instinctively have done it.  As an
+Australian and an artist, he could not have an East London address
+on his underclothes.  Yes, we were doing the thing thoroughly, both
+of us; he as an artist, I as a - well, you may say murderer, if you
+like.  I shall not mind now.
+
+"Our plans were settled.  I went to London on the Monday and wrote
+him a letter from Robert.  (The artistic touch again.)  I also
+bought a revolver.  On the Tuesday morning he announced the arrival
+of Robert at the breakfast-table.  Robert was now alive - we had
+six witnesses to prove it; six witnesses who knew that he was coming
+that afternoon.  Our private plan was that Robert should present
+himself at three o'clock, in readiness for the return of the
+golfing-party shortly afterwards.  The maid would go to look for
+Mark, and having failed to find him, come back to the office to
+find me entertaining Robert in Mark's absence.  I would explain that
+Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would myself introduce the
+wastrel brother to the tea-table.  Mark's absence would not excite
+any comment, for it would be generally felt - indeed Robert would
+suggest it - that he had been afraid of meeting his brother.  Then
+Robert would make himself amusingly offensive to the guests,
+particularly, of course, Miss Norris, until he thought that the joke
+had gone far enough.
+
+"That was our private plan.  Perhaps I should say that it was Mark's
+private plan.  My own was different.
+
+"The announcement at breakfast went well.  After the golfing-party
+had gone off, we had the morning in which to complete our
+arrangements.  What I was chiefly concerned about was to establish
+as completely as possible the identity of Robert.  For this reason I
+suggested to Mark that, when dressed, he should go out by the secret
+passage to the bowling-green, and come back by the drive, taking
+care to enter into conversation with the lodge-keeper.  In this way
+I would have two more witnesses of Robert's arrival - first the
+lodge-keeper, and secondly one of the gardeners whom I would have
+working on the front lawn.  Mark, of course, was willing enough.
+He could practise his Australian accent on the lodge-keeper.  It
+was really amusing to see how readily he fell into every suggestion
+which I made.  Never was a killing more carefully planned by its
+victim.
+
+"He changed into Robert's clothes in the office bedroom.  This was
+the safest way - for both of us.  When he was ready, he called me
+in, and I inspected him.  It was extraordinary how well he looked
+the part.  I suppose that the signs of his dissipation had already
+marked themselves on, his face, but had been concealed hitherto by
+his moustache and beard; for now that he was clean-shaven they lay
+open to the world from which we had so carefully hidden them, and
+he was indeed the wastrel which he was pretending to be.
+
+"'By Jove, you're wonderful,' I said.
+
+"He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic touches
+which I might have missed.
+
+"'Wonderful,' I said to myself again.  'Nobody could possibly guess.'
+
+"I peered into the hall.  It was empty.  We hurried across to the
+library; he got into the passage and made off.  I went back to the
+bedroom, collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in a
+bundle and returned with them to the passage.  Then I sat down in
+the hall and waited.
+
+"You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid.  As soon as she was
+on her way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the
+office.  My hand was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the
+revolver.
+
+"He began at once in his character of Robert - some rigmarole about
+working his passage over from Australia; a little private
+performance for my edification.  Then in his natural voice, gloating
+over his well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he burst out, 'It's
+my turn now.  You wait.'  It was this which Elsie heard.  She had
+no business to be there and she might have ruined everything, but as
+it turned out it was the luckiest thing which could have happened.
+For it was the one piece of evidence which I wanted; evidence, other
+than my own, that Mark and Robert were in the room together.
+
+"I said nothing.  I was not going to take the risk of being heard
+to speak in that room.  I just smiled at the poor little fool, and
+took out my revolver, and shot him.  Then I went back into the
+library and waited - just as I said in my evidence.
+
+"Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden
+appearance gave me?  Can you imagine the feelings of a 'murderer'
+who has (as he thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then
+confronted suddenly with an utterly new problem?  What difference
+would your coming make?  I didn't know.  Perhaps none; perhaps all.
+And I had forgotten to open the window!
+
+"I don't know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a
+clever one.  Perhaps not.  But if I do deserve any praise in the
+matter, I think I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together
+in the face of the unexpected catastrophe of your arrival.  Yes, I
+got a window open, Mr. Gillingham, under your very nose; the right
+window too, you were kind enough to say.  And the keys - yes, that
+was clever of you, but I think I was cleverer.  I deceived you over
+the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I learnt when I took the liberty of
+listening to a conversation on the bowling-green between you and
+your friend Beverley.  Where was I?  Ah, you must have a look for
+that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"But what am I saying?  Did I deceive you at all?  You have found
+out the secret - that Robert was Mark - and that is all that matters.
+How have you found out?  I shall never know now.  Where did I go
+wrong?  Perhaps you have been deceiving me all the time.  Perhaps
+you knew about the keys, about the window, even about the secret
+passage.  You are a clever man, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"I had Mark's clothes on my hands.  I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out.  Miss Norris
+knew it.  That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss
+Norris had to know it.  So I hid them in the pond, the inspector
+having obligingly dragged it for me first.  A couple of keys joined
+them, but I kept the revolver.  Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr. Gillingham?
+
+"I don't think that there is any more to tell you.  This is a long
+letter, but then it is the last which I shall write.  There was a
+time when I hoped that there might be a happy future for me, not
+at the Red House, not alone.  Perhaps it was never more than an
+idle day-dream, for I am no more worthy of her than Mark was.  But
+I could have made her happy, Mr. Gillingham.  God, how I would have
+worked to make her happy!  But now that is impossible.  To offer her
+the hand of a murderer would be as bad as to offer her the hand of
+a drunkard.  And Mark died for that.  I saw her this morning.  She
+was very sweet.  It is a difficult world to understand.
+
+"Well, well, we are all gone now - the Abletts and the Cayleys.  I
+wonder what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all.  Perhaps it is
+as well that we have died out.  Not that there was anything wrong
+with Sarah - except her temper.  And she had the Ablett nose - you
+can't do much with that.  I'm glad she left no children.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.  I'm sorry that your stay with us was
+not of a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties in
+which I was placed.  Don't let Bill think too badly of me.  He is a
+good fellow; look after him.  He will he surprised.  The young are
+always surprised.  And thank you for letting me end my own way.  I
+expect you did sympathize a little, you know.  We might have been
+friends in another world - you and I, and I and she.  Tell her what
+you like.  Everything or nothing.  You will know what is best.
+Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+                                                 "MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+
+"I am lonely to-night without Mark.  That's funny, isn't it?"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+
+"I thought you'd say that," murmured Antony.
+
+"Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?"
+
+"I guessed some of it.  I didn't quite know all of it, of course.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill again, and returned to the letter.  In a
+moment he was looking up again.  "What did you write to him?  Was
+that last night?  After I'd gone into Stanton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you say?  That you'd discovered that Mark was Robert?"
+
+"Yes.  At least I said that this morning I should probably telegraph
+to Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to -"
+
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence.  "Yes, now what
+was all that about?  You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of a
+sudden.  We'd been doing the thing together all the time, and you'd
+been telling me everything, and then suddenly you become very
+mysterious and private and talk enigmatically - is that the word?
+ - about dentists and swimming and the 'Plough and Horses,' and
+ - well, what was it all about?  You simply vanished out of sight;
+I didn't know what on earth we were talking about."
+
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+
+"Sorry, Bill.  I felt like that suddenly.  Just for the last
+half-hour; just to end up with.  I'll tell you everything now.  Not
+that there's anything to tell, really.  It seems so easy when you
+know it - so obvious.  About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street.  Of
+course he was just to identify the body."
+
+"But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?"
+
+"Who could do it better?  Could you have done it?  How could you?
+You'd never gone bathing with Mark; you'd never seen him stripped.
+He didn't swim.  Could his doctor do it?  Not unless he'd had some
+particular operation, and perhaps not then.  But his dentists could
+ - at any time, always - if he had been to his dentist fairly often.
+Hence Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street."
+
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+
+"I see.  And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to Cartwright
+to identify the body?"
+
+"Yes.  And then of course it was all up for him.  Once we knew that
+Robert was Mark we knew everything."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his pipe.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can say, Bill.  You know those problems in
+Algebra where you say, 'Let x be the answer,' and then you work it
+out and find what x is.  Well, that's one way; and another way,
+which they never give you any marks for at school, is to guess the
+answer.  Pretend the answer is 4 - well, will that satisfy the
+conditions of the problem?  No.  Then try 6; and if 6 doesn't either,
+then what about 5? - and so on.  Well, the Inspector and the Coroner
+and all that lot had guessed their answer, and it seemed to fit, but
+you and I knew it didn't really fit; there were several conditions
+in the problem which it didn't fit at all.  So we knew that their
+answer was wrong, and we had to think of another - an answer which
+explained all the things which were puzzling us.  Well, I happened to
+guess the right one.  Got a match?"
+
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+
+"Yes, but that doesn't quite do, old boy.  Something must have put
+you on to it suddenly.  By the way, I'll have my matches back, if
+you don't mind."
+
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+
+"Sorry.... Well then, let's see if I can go through my own mind
+again, and tell you how I guessed it.  First of all, the clothes."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue.  I didn't
+quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's position
+the smallest clue would have an entirely disproportionate value.
+For some reason, then, Cayley attached this exaggerated importance
+to the clothes which Mark was wearing on that Tuesday morning; all
+the clothes, the inside ones as well as the outside ones.  I didn't
+know why, but I did feel certain that, in that case, the absence of
+the collar was unintentional.  In collecting the clothes he had
+overlooked the collar.  Why?"
+
+"It was the one in the linen-basket?"
+
+"Yes.  It seemed probable.  Why had Cayley put it there?  The obvious
+answer was that he hadn't.  Mark had put it there.  I remembered what
+you told me about Mark being finicky, and having lots of clothes and
+so on, and I felt that he was just the sort of man who would never wear
+the same collar twice."  He paused, and then asked, "Is that right, do
+you think?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Bill with conviction.
+
+"Well, I guessed it was.  So then I began to see an x which would
+fit just this part of the problem - the clothes part.  I saw Mark
+changing his clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar
+in the linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar he
+had ever taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a chair
+in the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the clothes
+afterwards - all the visible clothes - and not realizing that the
+collar wasn't there."
+
+"Go on," said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation
+of it.  Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his bedroom?
+The only answer was that the fact of his changing had to be kept
+secret.  When did he change?  The only possible time was between
+lunch (when he would be seen by the servants) and the moment of
+Robert's arrival.  And when did Cayley collect the clothes in a
+bundle?  Again, the only answer was 'Before Robert's arrival.'
+So another x was wanted - to fit those three conditions."
+
+"And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before Robert
+arrived?"
+
+"Yes.  Well now, it couldn't be intended on the strength of that
+letter, unless there was very much more behind the letter than we
+knew.  Nor was it possible a murder could be intended without any
+more preparation than the changing into a different suit in which
+to escape.  The thing was too childish.  Also, if Robert was to be
+murdered, why go out of the way to announce his existence to you
+all - even, at the cost of some trouble, to Mrs. Norbury?  What
+did it all mean?  I didn't know.  But I began to feel now that
+Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of Cayley's
+against Mark - either to get him to kill his brother, or to get his
+brother to kill him - and that for some inexplicable reason Mark
+seemed to be lending himself to the plot."  He was silent for a
+little, and then said, almost to himself, "I had seen the empty
+brandy bottles in that cupboard."
+
+"You never said anything about them" complained Bill.
+
+"I only saw them afterwards.  I was looking for the collar, you
+remember.  They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley would
+feel about it....  Poor devil!"
+
+"Go on," said Bill.
+
+"Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I
+suppose you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his
+way at the second lodge and not at the first.  So I talked to Amos
+and Parsons.  That made it more curious.  Amos told me that Robert
+had gone out of his way to speak to him; had called to him, in fact.
+Parsons told me that his wife was out in their little garden at the
+first lodge all the afternoon, and was certain that Robert had never
+come past it.  He also told me that Cayley had put him on to a job
+on the front lawn that afternoon.  So I had another guess.  Robert
+had used the secret passage - the passage which comes out into the
+park between the first and second lodges.  Robert, then, had been
+in the house; it was a put-up job between Robert and Cayley.  But
+how could Robert be there without Mark knowing?  Obviously, Mark
+knew too.  What did it all mean?"
+
+"When was this?" interrupted Bill.  "Just after the inquest - after
+you'd seen Amos and Parsons, of course?"
+
+"Yes.  I got up and left them, and came to look for you.  I'd got
+back to the clothes then.  Why did Mark change his clothes so
+secretly?  Disguise?  But then what about his face?  That was much
+more important than clothes.  His face, his beard - he'd have to
+shave off his beard - and then - oh, idiot!  I saw you looking at
+that poster.  Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark disguised.  Oh,
+priceless idiot!  Mark was Robert....  Matches, please."
+
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit his
+pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were going
+into the other's pocket.
+
+"Yes," said Bill thoughtfully.  "Yes....  But wait a moment.  What
+about the 'Plough and Horses'?"  Antony looked comically at him.
+
+"You'll never forgive me, Bill," he said.  "You'll never come
+clue-hunting with me again."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Antony sighed.
+
+"It was a fake, Watson.  I wanted you out of the way.  I wanted to
+be alone.  I'd guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it - to test
+it every way, by everything we'd discovered.  I simply had to be
+alone just then, So -" he smiled and added, "Well, I knew you wanted
+a drink."
+
+"You are a devil," said Bill, staring at him.  "And your interest
+when I told you that a woman had been staying there -"
+
+"Well, it was only polite to be interested when you'd taken so much
+trouble."
+
+"You brute!  You - you Sherlock!  And then you keep trying to steal
+my matches.  Well, go on."
+
+"That's all.  My x fitted."
+
+"Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?"
+
+"Well, not quite.  I didn't realize that Cayley had worked for it
+from the beginning - had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark.  I
+thought he'd just seized the opportunity."
+
+Bill was silent for a long time.  Then, puffing at his pipe, he said
+slowly, "Has Cayley shot himself?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Poor devil," said Bill.  "It was decent of you to give him a chance.
+I'm glad you did."
+
+"I couldn't help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know."
+
+"He's a clever devil.  If you hadn't turned up just when you did, he
+would never have been found out."
+
+"I wonder.  It was ingenious, but it's often the ingenious thing
+which gets found out.  The awkward thing from Cayley's point of view
+was that, though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body could ever
+be found.  Well, that doesn't often happen with a missing man.  He
+generally gets discovered in the end; a professional criminal;
+perhaps not - but an amateur like Mark!  He might have kept the
+secret of how he killed Mark, but I think it would have become
+obvious sooner or later that he had killed him."
+
+"Yes, there's something in that....  Oh, just tell me one thing.  Why
+did Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?"
+
+"That's puzzled me rather, too, Bill.  It may be that he was just
+doing the Othello business - painting himself black all over.  I
+mean he may have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he
+had almost got to believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody.
+More likely, though, he felt that, having told all of you at the
+house, he had better tell Miss Norbury, in case she met one of you;
+in which case, if you mentioned the approaching arrival of Robert,
+she might say, 'Oh, I'm certain he has no brother; he would have
+told me if he had,' and so spoil his joke.  Possibly, too, Cayley
+put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many people as possible
+to know about Robert."
+
+"Are you going to tell the police?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose they'll have to know.  Cayley may have left another
+confession.  I hope he won't give me away; you see, I've been a sort
+of accessory since yesterday evening.  And I must go and see Miss
+Norbury."
+
+"I asked," explained Bill, "because I was wondering what I should
+say to - to Betty.  Miss Calladine.  You see, she's bound to ask."
+
+"Perhaps you won't see her again for a long, long time," said Antony
+sadly.
+
+"As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons.  And I go up there to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you had better tell her.  You're obviously longing to.  Only
+don't let her say anything for a day or two.  Ill write to you."
+
+"Righto!"
+
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+
+"The Barringtons," he said.  "Large party?"
+
+"Fairly, I think."
+
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+
+"Yes.  Well, if any of 'em should happen to be murdered, you might
+send for me.  I'm just getting into the swing of it."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
diff --git a/old/rdhsm10.zip b/old/rdhsm10.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b4fe7e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rdhsm10.zip
diff --git a/old/rdhsm11.txt b/old/rdhsm11.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e158637
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rdhsm11.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9253 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+#1 in our series by A. A. Milne
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
+this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
+
+This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
+Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
+header without written permission.
+
+Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
+eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
+important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
+how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
+donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
+
+
+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
+
+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Red House Mystery
+
+Author: A. A. Milne
+
+Release Date: August, 1999 [EBook #1872]
+[This file was last updated on April 1, 2005]
+
+Edition: 11
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+
+
+
+This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO
+JOHN VINE MILNE
+MY DEAR FATHER,
+
+Like all really nice people, you have a weakness for detective
+stories, and feel that there are not enough of them.  So, after
+all that you have done for me, the least that I can do for you
+is to write you one.   Here it is: with more gratitude and
+affection than I can well put down here.
+
+A.A.M.
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+I.      MRS. STEVENS IS FRIGHTENED
+
+II.     MR. GILLINGHAM GETS OUT AT THE WRONG STATION
+
+III.    TWO MEN AND A BODY
+
+IV.     THE BROTHER FROM AUSTRALIA
+
+V.      MR. GILLINGHAM CHOOSES A NEW PROFESSION
+
+VI.     OUTSIDE OR INSIDE?
+
+VII.    PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN
+
+VIII.   "DO YOU FOLLOW ME, WATSON?"
+
+IX.     POSSIBILITIES OF A CROQUET SET
+
+X.      MR. GILLINGHAM TALKS NONSENSE
+
+XI.     THE REVEREND THEODORE USSHER
+
+XII.    A SHADOW ON THE WALL
+
+XIII.   THE OPEN WINDOW
+
+XIV.    MR. BEVERLEY QUALIFIES FOR THE STAGE
+
+XV.     MRS. NORBURY CONFIDES IN DEAR MR. GILLINGHAM
+
+XVI.    GETTING READY FOR THE NIGHT
+
+XVII.   MR. BEVERLEY TAKES THE WATER
+
+XVIII.  GUESS-WORK
+
+XIX.    THE INQUEST
+
+XX.     MR. BEVERLEY IS TACTFUL
+
+XXI.    CAYLEY'S APOLOGY
+
+XXII.   MR. BEVERLEY MOVES ON
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Mrs. Stevens is Frightened
+
+
+In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was
+taking its siesta.  There was a lazy murmur of bees in the
+flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the
+elms.  From distant lawns came the whir of a mowing-machine, that
+most restful of all country sounds; making ease the sweeter in
+that it is taken while others are working.
+
+It was the hour when even those whose business it is to attend to
+the wants of others have a moment or two for themselves.  In the
+housekeeper's room Audrey Stevens, the pretty parlour-maid,
+re-trimmed her best hat, and talked idly to her aunt, the
+cook-housekeeper of Mr. Mark Ablett's bachelor home.
+
+"For Joe?" said Mrs. Stevens placidly, her eye on the hat.
+Audrey nodded.  She took a pin from her mouth, found a place in
+the hat for it, and said, "He likes a bit of pink."
+
+"I don't say I mind a bit of pink myself," said her aunt.  "Joe
+Turner isn't the only one."
+
+"It isn't everybody's colour," said Audrey, holding the hat out
+at arm's length, and regarding it thoughtfully.  "Stylish, isn't
+it?"
+
+"Oh, it'll suit you all right, and it would have suited me at
+your age.  A bit too dressy for me now, though wearing better
+than some other people, I daresay.  I was never the one to
+pretend to be what I wasn't.  If I'm fifty-five, I'm fifty-five
+--that's what I say."
+
+"Fifty-eight, isn't it, auntie?"
+
+"I was just giving that as an example," said Mrs. Stevens with
+great dignity.
+
+Audrey threaded a needle, held her hand out and looked at her
+nails critically for a moment, and then began to sew.
+
+"Funny thing that about Mr. Mark's brother.  Fancy not seeing
+your brother for fifteen years."  She gave a self-conscious laugh
+and went on, "Wonder what I should do if I didn't see Joe for
+fifteen years."
+
+"As I told you all this morning," said her aunt, "I've been here
+five years, and never heard of a brother.  I could say that
+before everybody if I was going to die to-morrow.  There's been
+no brother here while I've been here."
+
+"You could have knocked me down with a feather when he spoke
+about him at breakfast this morning.  I didn't hear what went
+before, naturally, but they was all talking about the brother
+when I went in--now what was it I went in for--hot milk, was it,
+or toast?--well, they was all talking, and Mr. Mark turns to me,
+and says--you know his way--'Stevens,' he says, 'my brother is
+coming to see me this afternoon; I'm expecting him about three,'
+he says. 'Show him into the office,' he says, just like that.
+'Yes, sir,' I says quite quietly, but I was never so surprised in
+my life, not knowing he had a brother.  'My brother from
+Australia,' he says--there, I'd forgotten that.  From Australia."
+
+"Well, he may have been in Australia," said Mrs. Stevens,
+judicially; "I can't say for that, not knowing the country; but
+what I do say is he's never been here.  Not while I've been here,
+and that's five years."
+
+"Well, but, auntie, he hasn't been here for fifteen years.  I
+heard Mr. Mark telling Mr. Cayley.  'Fifteen years,' he says.
+Mr. Cayley having arst him when his brother was last in England.
+Mr. Cayley knew of him, I heard him telling Mr. Beverley, but
+didn't know when he was last in England--see?  So that's why he
+arst Mr. Mark."
+
+"I'm not saying anything about fifteen years, Audrey.  I can only
+speak for what I know, and that's five years Whitsuntide.  I can
+take my oath he's not set foot in the house since five years
+Whitsuntide.  And if he's been in Australia, as you say, well, I
+daresay he's had his reasons."
+
+"What reasons?" said Audrey lightly.
+
+"Never mind what reasons.  Being in the place of a mother to you,
+since your poor mother died, I say this, Audrey--when a gentleman
+goes to Australia, he has his reasons.  And when he stays in
+Australia fifteen years, as Mr. Mark says, and as I know for
+myself for five years, he has his reasons.  And a respectably
+brought-up girl doesn't ask what reasons."
+
+"Got into trouble, I suppose," said Audrey carelessly.  "They
+were saying at breakfast he'd been a wild one.  Debts.  I'm glad
+Joe isn't like that.  He's got fifteen pounds in the post-office
+savings' bank.  Did I tell you?"
+
+But there was not to be any more talk of Joe Turner that
+afternoon.  The ringing of a bell brought Audrey to her feet--no
+longer Audrey, but now Stevens.  She arranged her cap in front of
+the glass.
+
+"There, that's the front door," she said.  "That's him.  'Show
+him into the office,' said Mr. Mark.  I suppose he doesn't want
+the other ladies and gentlemen to see him.  Well, they're all out
+at their golf, anyhow--Wonder if he's going to stay--P'raps he's
+brought back a lot of gold from Australia--I might hear something
+about Australia, because if anybody can get gold there, then I
+don't say but what Joe and I--"
+
+"Now, now, get on, Audrey."
+
+"Just going, darling." She went out.
+
+To anyone who had just walked down the drive in the August sun,
+the open door of the Red House revealed a delightfully inviting
+hall, of which even the mere sight was cooling.  It was a big
+low-roofed, oak-beamed place, with cream-washed walls and
+diamond-paned windows, blue-curtained.  On the right and left
+were doors leading into other living-rooms, but on the side which
+faced you as you came in were windows again, looking on to a
+small grass court, and from open windows to open windows such air
+as there was played gently.  The staircase went up in broad, low
+steps along the right-hand wall, and, turning to the left, led
+you along a gallery, which ran across the width of the hall, to
+your bedroom.  That is, if you were going to stay the night.  Mr.
+Robert Ablett's intentions in this matter were as yet unknown.
+
+As Audrey came across the hall she gave a little start as she saw
+Mr. Cayley suddenly, sitting unobtrusively in a seat beneath one
+of the front windows, reading.  No reason why he shouldn't be
+there; certainly a much cooler place than the golf-links on such
+a day; but somehow there was a deserted air about the house that
+afternoon, as if all the guests were outside, or--perhaps the
+wisest place of all--up in their bedrooms, sleeping.  Mr. Cayley,
+the master's cousin, was a surprise; and, having given a little
+exclamation as she came suddenly upon him, she blushed, and said,
+"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I didn't see you at first," and he
+looked up from his book and smiled at her.  An attractive smile
+it was on that big ugly face.  "Such a gentleman, Mr. Cayley,"
+she thought to herself as she went on, and wondered what the
+master would do without him.  If this brother, for instance, had
+to be bundled back to Australia, it was Mr. Cayley who would do
+most of the bundling.
+
+"So this is Mr. Robert," said Audrey to herself, as she came in
+sight of the visitor.
+
+She told her aunt afterwards that she would have known him
+anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother, but she would have said that in
+any event.  Actually she was surprised.  Dapper little Mark, with
+his neat pointed beard and his carefully curled moustache; with
+his quick-darting eyes, always moving from one to the other of
+any company he was in, to register one more smile to his credit
+when he had said a good thing, one more expectant look when he
+was only waiting his turn to say it; he was a very different man
+from this rough-looking, ill-dressed colonial, staring at her so
+loweringly.
+
+"I want to see Mr. Mark Ablett," he growled.  It sounded almost
+like a threat.
+
+Audrey recovered herself and smiled reassuringly at him.  She had
+a smile for everybody.
+
+"Yes, sir.  He is expecting you, if you will come this way."
+
+"Oh!  So you know who I am, eh?"
+
+"Mr. Robert Ablett?"
+
+"Ay, that's right.  So he's expecting me, eh?  He'll be glad to
+see me, eh?"
+
+"If you will come this way, sir," said Audrey primly.
+
+She went to the second door on the left, and opened it.
+
+"Mr. Robert Ab--" she began, and then broke off.  The room was
+empty. She turned to the man behind her.  "If you will sit down,
+sir, I will find the master.  I know he's in, because he told me
+that you were coming this afternoon."
+
+"Oh!" He looked round the room.  "What d'you call this place,
+eh?"
+
+"The office, sir."
+
+"The office?"
+
+"The room where the master works, sir."
+
+"Works, eh?  That's new.  Didn't know he'd ever done a stroke of
+work in his life."
+
+"Where he writes, sir," said Audrey, with dignity.  The fact that
+Mr. Mark "wrote," though nobody knew what, was a matter of pride
+in the housekeeper's room.
+
+"Not well-dressed enough for the drawing-room, eh?"
+
+"I will tell the master you are here, sir," said Audrey
+decisively.
+
+She closed the door and left him there.
+
+Well!  Here was something to tell auntie!  Her mind was busy at
+once, going over all the things which he had said to her and she
+had said to him--quiet-like.  "Directly I saw him I said to
+myself--"  Why, you could have knocked her over with a feather.
+Feathers, indeed, were a perpetual menace to Audrey.
+
+However, the immediate business was to find the master.  She
+walked across the hall to the library, glanced in, came back a
+little uncertainly, and stood in front of Cayley.
+
+"If you please, sir," she said in a low, respectful voice, "can
+you tell me where the master is?  It's Mr. Robert called."
+
+"What?" said Cayley, looking up from his book.  "Who?"
+
+Audrey repeated her question.
+
+"I don't know.  Isn't he in the office?  He went up to the Temple
+after lunch.  I don't think I've seen him since."
+
+"Thank you, sir.  I will go up to the Temple."
+
+Cayley returned to his book.
+
+The "Temple" was a brick summer-house, in the gardens at the back
+of the house, about three hundred yards away.  Here Mark
+meditated sometimes before retiring to the "office" to put his
+thoughts upon paper.  The thoughts were not of any great value;
+moreover, they were given off at the dinner-table more often than
+they got on to paper, and got on to paper more often than they
+got into print. But that did not prevent the master of The Red
+House from being a little pained when a visitor treated the
+Temple carelessly, as if it had been erected for the ordinary
+purposes of flirtation and cigarette-smoking.  There had been an
+occasion when two of his guests had been found playing fives in
+it.  Mark had said nothing at the time, save to ask with a little
+less than his usual point--whether they couldn't find anywhere
+else for their game, but the offenders were never asked to The
+Red House again.
+
+Audrey walked slowly up to the Temple, looked in and walked
+slowly back.  All that walk for nothing.  Perhaps the master was
+upstairs in his room.  "Not well-dressed enough for the
+drawing-room."  Well, now, Auntie, would you like anyone in your
+drawing-room with a red handkerchief round his neck and great big
+dusty boots, and--listen!  One of the men shooting rabbits.
+Auntie was partial to a nice rabbit, and onion sauce.  How hot it
+was; she wouldn't say no to a cup of tea.  Well, one thing, Mr.
+Robert wasn't staying the night; he hadn't any luggage.  Of
+course Mr. Mark could lend him things; he had clothes enough for
+six.  She would have known him anywhere for Mr. Mark's brother.
+
+She came into the house.  As she passed the housekeeper's room on
+her way to the hall, the door opened suddenly, and a rather
+frightened face looked out.
+
+"Hallo, Aud," said Elsie.  "It's Audrey," she said, turning into
+the room.
+
+"Come in, Audrey," called Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"What's up?" said Audrey, looking in at the door.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you gave me such a turn.  Where have you been?"
+
+"Up to the Temple."
+
+"Did you hear anything?"
+
+"Hear what?"
+
+"Bangs and explosions and terrible things."
+
+"Oh!" said Audrey, rather relieved.  "One of the men shooting
+rabbits.  Why, I said to myself as I came along, 'Auntie's
+partial to a nice rabbit,' I said, and I shouldn't be surprised
+if--"
+
+"Rabbits!" said her aunt scornfully.  "It was inside the house,
+my girl."
+
+"Straight it was," said Elsie.  She was one of the housemaids.
+"I said to Mrs. Stevens--didn't I, Mrs. Stevens?--'That was in
+the house,' I said."
+
+Audrey looked at her aunt and then at Elsie.
+
+"Do you think he had a revolver with him?" she said in a hushed
+voice.
+
+"Who?" said Elsie excitedly.
+
+"That brother of his.  From Australia.  I said as soon as I set
+eyes on him, 'You're a bad lot, my man!'  That's what I said,
+Elsie.  Even before he spoke to me.  Rude!"  She turned to her
+aunt.  "Well, I give you my word."
+
+"If you remember, Audrey, I always said there was no saying with
+anyone from Australia."  Mrs. Stevens lay back in her chair,
+breathing rather rapidly.  "I wouldn't go out of this room now,
+not if you paid me a hundred thousand pounds."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Stevens!" said Elsie, who badly wanted five shillings
+for a new pair of shoes, "I wouldn't go as far as that, not
+myself, but--"
+
+"There!" cried Mrs. Stevens, sitting up with a start.  They
+listened anxiously, the two girls instinctively coming closer to
+the older woman's chair.
+
+A door was being shaken, kicked, rattled.
+
+"Listen!"
+
+Audrey and Elsie looked at each other with frightened eyes.
+
+They heard a man's voice, loud, angry.
+
+"Open the door!" it was shouting.  "Open the door!  I say, open
+the door!"
+
+"Don't open the door!" cried Mrs. Stevens in a panic, as if it
+was her door which was threatened.  "Audrey!  Elsie!  Don't let
+him in!"
+
+"Damn it, open the door!" came the voice again.
+
+"We're all going to be murdered in our beds," she quavered.
+Terrified, the two girls huddled closer, and with an arm round
+each, Mrs. Stevens sat there, waiting.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Mr. Gillingham Gets Out at the Wrong Station
+
+
+Whether Mark Ablett was a bore or not depended on the point of
+view, but it may be said at once that he never bored his company
+on the subject of his early life.  However, stories get about.
+There is always somebody who knows.  It was understood--and this,
+anyhow, on Mark's own authority--that his father had been a
+country clergyman.  It was said that, as a boy, Mark had
+attracted the notice, and patronage, of some rich old spinster of
+the neighbourhood, who had paid for his education, both at school
+and university.  At about the time when he was coming down from
+Cambridge, his father had died; leaving behind him a few debts,
+as a warning to his family, and a reputation for short sermons,
+as an example to his successor.  Neither warning nor example
+seems to have been effective.  Mark went to London, with an
+allowance from his patron, and (it is generally agreed) made
+acquaintance with the money-lenders.  He was supposed, by his
+patron and any others who inquired, to be "writing"; but what he
+wrote, other than letters asking for more time to pay, has never
+been discovered. However, he attended the theatres and music
+halls very regularly--no doubt with a view to some serious
+articles in the "Spectator" on the decadence of the English
+stage.
+
+Fortunately (from Mark's point of view) his patron died during
+his third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted.
+From that moment his life loses its legendary character, and
+becomes more a matter of history.  He settled accounts with the
+money-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvesting
+of others, and became in his turn a patron.  He patronized the
+Arts. It was not only usurers who discovered that Mark Ablett no
+longer wrote for money; editors were now offered free
+contributions as well as free lunches; publishers were given
+agreements for an occasional slender volume, in which the author
+paid all expenses and waived all royalties; promising young
+painters and poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical
+company on tour, playing host and "lead" with equal lavishness.
+
+He was not what most people call a snob.  A snob has been defined
+carelessly as a man who loves a lord; and, more carefully, as a
+mean lover of mean things--which would be a little unkind to the
+peerage if the first definition were true.  Mark had his vanities
+undoubtedly, but he would sooner have met an actor-manager than
+an earl; he would have spoken of his friendship with Dante--had
+that been possible--more glibly than of his friendship with the
+Duke. Call him a snob if you like, but not the worst kind of
+snob; a hanger-on, but to the skirts of Art, not Society; a
+climber, but in the neighbourhood of Parnassus, not Hay Hill.
+
+His patronage did not stop at the Arts.  It also included Matthew
+Cayley, a small cousin of thirteen, whose circumstances were as
+limited as had been Mark's own before his patron had rescued him.
+He sent the Cayley cousin to school and Cambridge.  His motives,
+no doubt, were unworldly enough at first; a mere repaying to his
+account in the Recording Angel's book of the generosity which had
+been lavished on himself; a laying-up of treasure in heaven.  But
+it is probable that, as the boy grew up, Mark's designs for his
+future were based on his own interests as much as those of his
+cousin, and that a suitably educated Matthew Cayley of
+twenty-three was felt by him to be a useful property for a man in
+his position; a man, that is to say, whose vanities left him so
+little time for his affairs.
+
+Cayley, then, at twenty-three, looked after his cousin's affairs.
+By this time Mark had bought the Red House and the considerable
+amount of land which went with it.  Cayley superintended the
+necessary staff.  His duties, indeed, were many.  He was not
+quite secretary, not quite land-agent, not quite
+business-adviser, not quite companion, but something of all four.
+Mark leant upon him and called him "Cay," objecting quite rightly
+in the circumstances to the name of Matthew.  Cay, he felt was,
+above all, dependable; a big, heavy-jawed, solid fellow, who
+didn't bother you with unnecessary talk--a boon to a man who
+liked to do most of the talking himself.
+
+Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty,
+which was his patron's age.  Spasmodically they entertained a
+good deal at the Red House, and Mark's preference--call it
+kindliness or vanity, as you please--was for guests who were not
+in a position to repay his hospitality.  Let us have a look at
+them as they came down to that breakfast, of which Stevens, the
+parlour-maid, has already given us a glimpse.
+
+The first to appear was Major Rumbold, a tall, grey-haired,
+grey-moustached, silent man, wearing a Norfolk coat and grey
+flannel trousers, who lived on his retired pay and wrote natural
+history articles for the papers.  He inspected the dishes on the
+side-table, decided carefully on kedgeree, and got to work on it.
+He had passed on to a sausage by the time of the next arrival.
+This was Bill Beverly, a cheerful young man in white flannel
+trousers and a blazer.
+
+"Hallo, Major," he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
+
+"It isn't gout," said the Major gruffly.
+
+"Well, whatever it is."
+
+The Major grunted.
+
+"I make a point of being polite at breakfast," said Bill, helping
+himself largely to porridge.  "Most people are so rude.  That's
+why I asked you.  But don't tell me if it's a secret.  Coffee?"
+he added, as he poured himself out a cup.
+
+"No, thanks.  I never drink till I've finished eating."
+
+"Quite right, Major; it's only manners."  He sat down opposite to
+the other.  "Well, we've got a good day for our game.  It's going
+to be dashed hot, but that's where Betty and I score.  On the
+fifth green, your old wound, the one you got in that frontier
+skirmish in '43, will begin to trouble you; on the eighth, your
+liver, undermined by years of curry, will drop to pieces; on the
+twelfth--"
+
+"Oh, shut up, you ass!"
+
+"Well, I'm only warning you.  Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris.
+I was just telling the Major what was going to happen to you and
+him this morning.  Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer
+choosing your own breakfast?"
+
+"Please don't get up," said Miss Norris.  "I'll help myself.
+Good morning, Major."  She smiled pleasantly at him.  The Major
+nodded.
+
+"Good morning.  Going to be hot."
+
+"As I was telling him," began Bill, "that's where--Hallo, here's
+Betty.  Morning, Cayley."
+
+Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together.  Betty was the
+eighteen-year-old daughter of Mrs. John Calladine, widow of the
+painter, who was acting hostess on this occasion for Mark.  Ruth
+Norris took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays,
+seriously as a golfer.  She was quite competent as either.
+Neither the Stage Society nor Sandwich had any terrors for her.
+
+"By the way, the car will be round at 10.30," said Cayley,
+looking up from his letters.  "You're lunching there, and driving
+back directly afterwards.  Isn't that right?"
+
+"I don't see why we shouldn't have--two rounds," said Bill
+hopefully.
+
+"Much too hot in the afternoon," said the Major.  "Get back
+comfortably for tea."
+
+Mark came in.  He was generally the last.  He greeted them and
+sat down to toast and tea.  Breakfast was not his meal.  The
+others chattered gently while he read his letters.
+
+"Good God!" said Mark suddenly.
+
+There was an instinctive turning of heads towards him.  "I beg
+your pardon, Miss Norris.  Sorry, Betty."
+
+Miss Norris smiled her forgiveness.  She often wanted to say it
+herself, particularly at rehearsals.
+
+"I say, Cay!"  He was frowning to himself--annoyed, puzzled.  He
+held up a letter and shook it.  "Who do you think this is from?"
+
+Cayley, at the other end of the table, shrugged his shoulders.
+How could he possibly guess?
+
+"Robert," said Mark.
+
+"Robert?"  It was difficult to surprise Cayley.  "Well?"
+
+"It's all very well to say 'well?' like that," said Mark
+peevishly. "He's coming here this afternoon."
+
+"I thought he was in Australia, or somewhere."
+
+"Of course.  So did I." He looked across at Rumbold.  "Got any
+brothers, Major?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, take my advice, and don't have any."
+
+"Not likely to now," said the Major.
+
+Bill laughed.  Miss Norris said politely: "But you haven't any
+brothers, Mr. Ablett?"
+
+"One," said Mark grimly.  "If you're back in time you'll see him
+this afternoon.  He'll probably ask you to lend him five pounds.
+Don't."
+
+Everybody felt a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I've got a brother," said Bill helpfully, "but I always borrow
+from him."
+
+"Like Robert," said Mark.
+
+"When was he in England last?" asked Cayley.
+
+"About fifteen years ago, wasn't it?  You'd have been a boy, of
+course."
+
+"Yes, I remember seeing him once about then, but I didn't know if
+he had been back since."
+
+"No.  Not to my knowledge."  Mark, still obviously upset,
+returned to his letter.
+
+"Personally," said Bill, "I think relations are a great mistake."
+
+"All the same," said Betty a little daringly, "it must be rather
+fun having a skeleton in the cupboard."
+
+Mark looked up, frowning.
+
+"If you think it's fun, I'll hand him over to you, Betty.  If
+he's anything like he used to be, and like his few letters have
+been--well, Cay knows."
+
+Cayley grunted.
+
+"All I knew was that one didn't ask questions about him."
+
+It may have been meant as a hint to any too curious guest not to
+ask more questions, or a reminder to his host not to talk too
+freely in front of strangers, although he gave it the sound of a
+mere statement of fact.  But the subject dropped, to be succeeded
+by the more fascinating one of the coming foursome.  Mrs.
+Calladine was driving over with the players in order to lunch
+with an old friend who lived near the links, and Mark and Cayley
+were remaining at home--on affairs.  Apparently "affairs" were
+now to include a prodigal brother.  But that need not make the
+foursome less enjoyable.
+
+At about the time when the Major (for whatever reasons) was
+fluffing his tee-shot at the sixteenth, and Mark and his cousin
+were at their business at the Red House, an attractive gentleman
+of the name of Antony Gillingham was handing up his ticket at
+Woodham station and asking the way to the village.  Having
+received directions, he left his bag with the station-master and
+walked off leisurely.  He is an important person to this story,
+so that it is as well we should know something about him before
+letting him loose in it.  Let us stop him at the top of the hill
+on some excuse, and have a good look at him.
+
+The first thing we realize is that he is doing more of the
+looking than we are.  Above a clean-cut, clean-shaven face, of
+the type usually associated with the Navy, he carries a pair of
+grey eyes which seem to be absorbing every detail of our person.
+To strangers this look is almost alarming at first, until they
+discover that his mind is very often elsewhere; that he has, so
+to speak, left his eyes on guard, while he himself follows a
+train of thought in another direction.  Many people do this, of
+course; when, for instance, they are talking to one person and
+trying to listen to another; but their eyes betray them.
+Antony's never did.
+
+He had seen a good deal of the world with those eyes, though
+never as a sailor.  When at the age of twenty-one he came into
+his mother's money, 400 pounds a year, old Gillingham looked up
+from the "Stockbreeders' Gazette" to ask what he was going to do.
+
+"See the world," said Antony.
+
+"Well, send me a line from America, or wherever you get to."
+
+"Right," said Antony.
+
+Old Gillingham returned to his paper.  Antony was a younger son,
+and, on the whole, not so interesting to his father as the cadets
+of certain other families; Champion Birket's, for instance.  But,
+then, Champion Birket was the best Hereford bull he had ever
+bred.
+
+Antony, however, had no intention of going further away than
+London. His idea of seeing the world was to see, not countries,
+but people; and to see them from as many angles as possible.
+There are all sorts in London if you know how to look at them.
+So Antony looked at them--from various strange corners; from the
+view-point of the valet, the newspaper-reporter, the waiter, the
+shop-assistant.  With the independence of 400 pounds a year
+behind him, he enjoyed it immensely.  He never stayed long in one
+job, and generally closed his connection with it by telling his
+employer (contrary to all etiquette as understood between master
+and servant) exactly what he thought of him.  He had no
+difficulty in finding a new profession. Instead of experience and
+testimonials he offered his personality and a sporting bet.  He
+would take no wages the first month, and--if he satisfied his
+employer--double wages the second.  He always got his double
+wages.
+
+He was now thirty.  He had come to Waldheim for a holiday,
+because he liked the look of the station.  His ticket entitled
+him to travel further, but he had always intended to please
+himself in the matter.  Waldheim attracted him, and he had a
+suit-case in the carriage with him and money in his pocket.  Why
+not get out?
+
+The landlady of 'The George' was only too glad to put him up, and
+promised that her husband would drive over that afternoon for his
+luggage.
+
+"And you would like some lunch, I expect, sir."
+
+"Yes, but don't give yourself any trouble about it.  Cold
+anything-you've-got."
+
+"What about beef, sir?" she asked, as if she had a hundred
+varieties of meat to select from, and was offering him her best.
+
+"That will do splendidly.  And a pint of beer."
+
+While he was finishing his lunch, the landlord came in to ask
+about the luggage.  Antony ordered another pint, and soon had him
+talking.
+
+"It must be rather fun to keep a country inn," he said, thinking
+that it was about time he started another profession.
+
+"I don't know about fun, sir.  It gives us a living, and a bit
+over."
+
+"You ought to take a holiday," said Antony, looking at him
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Funny thing your saying that," said the landlord, with a smile.
+"Another gentleman, over from the Red House, was saying that only
+yesterday.  Offered to take my place 'n all."  He laughed
+rumblingly.
+
+"The Red House?  Not the Red House, Stanton?"
+
+"That's right, sir.  Stanton's the next station to Waldheim.  The
+Red House is about a mile from here--Mr. Ablett's."
+
+Antony took a letter from his pocket.  It was addressed from "The
+Red House, Stanton," and signed "Bill."
+
+"Good old Bill," he murmured to himself.  "He's getting on."
+
+Antony had met Bill Beverley two years before in a tobacconist's
+shop.  Gillingham was on one side of the counter and Mr. Beverley
+on the other.  Something about Bill, his youth and freshness,
+perhaps, attracted Antony; and when cigarettes had been ordered,
+and an address given to which they were to be sent, he remembered
+that he had come across an aunt of Beverley's once at a
+country-house.  Beverley and he met again a little later at a
+restaurant.  Both of them were in evening-dress, but they did
+different things with their napkins, and Antony was the more
+polite of the two.  However, he still liked Bill.  So on one of
+his holidays, when he was unemployed, he arranged an introduction
+through a mutual friend.  Beverley was a little inclined to be
+shocked when he was reminded of their previous meetings, but his
+uncomfortable feeling soon wore off, and he and Antony quickly
+became intimate.  But Bill generally addressed him as "Dear
+Madman" when he happened to write.
+
+Antony decided to stroll over to the Red House after lunch and
+call upon his friend.  Having inspected his bedroom which was not
+quite the lavender-smelling country-inn bedroom of fiction, but
+sufficiently clean and comfortable, he set out over the fields.
+
+As he came down the drive and approached the old red-brick front
+of the house, there was a lazy murmur of bees in the
+flower-borders, a gentle cooing of pigeons in the tops of the
+elms, and from distant lawns the whir of a mowing-machine, that
+most restful of all country sounds ....
+
+And in the hall a man was banging at a locked door, and shouting,
+"Open the door, I say; open the door!"
+
+"Hallo!" said Antony in amazement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Two Men and a Body
+
+
+Cayley looked round suddenly at the voice.
+
+"Can I help?" said Antony politely.
+
+"Something's happened," said Cayley.  He was breathing quickly.
+"I heard a shot--it sounded like a shot--I was in the library.  A
+loud bang--I didn't know what it was.  And the door's locked."
+He rattled the handle again, and shook it.  "Open the door!" he
+cried. "I say, Mark, what is it?  Open the door!"
+
+"But he must have locked the door on purpose," said Antony.  "So
+why should he open it just because you ask him to?"
+
+Cayley looked at him in a bewildered way.  Then he turned to the
+door again.  "We must break it in," he said, putting his shoulder
+to it.  "Help me."
+
+"Isn't there a window?"
+
+Cayley turned to him stupidly.
+
+"Window?  Window?"
+
+"So much easier to break in a window," said Antony with a smile.
+He looked very cool and collected, as he stood just inside the
+hall, leaning on his stick, and thinking, no doubt, that a great
+deal of fuss was being made about nothing.  But then, he had not
+heard the shot.
+
+"Window--of course!  What an idiot I am."
+
+He pushed past Antony, and began running out into the drive.
+Antony followed him.  They ran along the front of the house, down
+a path to the left, and then to the left again over the grass,
+Cayley in front, the other close behind him.  Suddenly Cayley
+looked over his shoulder and pulled up short.
+
+"Here," he said.
+
+They had come to the windows of the locked room, French windows
+which opened on to the lawns at the back of the house.  But now
+they were closed.  Antony couldn't help feeling a thrill of
+excitement as he followed Cayley's example, and put his face
+close up to the glass. For the first time he wondered if there
+really had been a revolver shot in this mysterious room.  It had
+all seemed so absurd and melodramatic from the other side of the
+door.  But if there had been one shot, why should there not be
+two more?--at the careless fools who were pressing their noses
+against the panes, and asking for it.
+
+"My God, can you see it?" said Cayley in a shaking voice.  "Down
+there.  Look!"
+
+The next moment Antony saw it.  A man was lying on the floor at
+the far end of the room, his back towards them.  A man?  Or the
+body of a man?
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"I don't know," the other whispered.
+
+"Well, we'd better go and see."  He considered the windows for a
+moment.  "I should think, if you put your weight into it, just
+where they join, they'll give all right.  Otherwise, we can kick
+the glass in."
+
+Without saying anything, Cayley put his weight into it.  The
+window gave, and they went into the room.  Cayley walked quickly
+to the body, and dropped on his knees by it.  For the moment he
+seemed to hesitate; then with an effort he put a hand on to its
+shoulder and pulled it over.
+
+"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
+
+"Who is it?" said Antony.
+
+"Robert Ablett."
+
+"Oh!" said Antony.  "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more
+to himself than to the other.
+
+"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here.  Robert is his brother."  He
+shuddered, and said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
+
+"Was Mark in the room too?"
+
+"Yes," said Cayley absently.  Then, as if resenting suddenly
+these questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
+
+But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the
+handle. "I suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he
+came back to the body again.
+
+"Who?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor.
+"Is he dead?"
+
+"Help me," said Cayley simply.
+
+They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look
+at it.  Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes.  It was not
+a pleasant sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity
+for the man beside him, and a sudden remorse for the careless,
+easy way in which he had treated the affair.  But then one always
+went about imagining that these things didn't happen--except to
+other people. It was difficult to believe in them just at first,
+when they happened to yourself.
+
+"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly.  He meant, "Were
+you fond of him?"
+
+"Hardly at all.  Mark is my cousin.  I mean, Mark is the brother
+I know best."
+
+"Your cousin?"
+
+"Yes."  He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead?  I suppose he
+is.  Will you--do you know anything about--about that sort of
+thing?  Perhaps I'd better get some water."
+
+There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as
+Antony was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from
+which opened two more rooms.  Cayley stepped into the passage,
+and opened the door on the right.  The door from the office,
+through which he had gone, remained open.  The door, at the end
+of the short passage was shut.  Antony, kneeling by the body,
+followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had disappeared,
+kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but he was not
+conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was with
+the other man, sympathizing with him.
+
+"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself,
+"but the feeling that you're doing something, when there's
+obviously nothing to be done, is a great comfort."
+
+Cayley came into the room again.  He had a sponge in one hand, a
+handkerchief in the other.  He looked at Antony.  Antony nodded.
+Cayley murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's
+face.  Then he placed the handkerchief over it.  A little sigh
+escaped Antony, a sigh of relief.
+
+They stood up and looked at each other.
+
+"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
+
+"That's very kind of you.  There will be things to do.  Police,
+doctors--I don't know.  But you mustn't let me trespass on your
+kindness.  Indeed, I should apologise for having trespassed so
+much already."
+
+"I came to see Beverley.  He is an old friend of mine."
+
+"He's out playing golf.  He will be back directly."  Then, as if
+he had only just realized it, "They will all be back directly."
+
+"I will stay if I can be of any help."
+
+"Please do.  You see, there are women.  It will be rather
+painful. If you would--"  He hesitated, and gave Antony a timid
+little smile, pathetic in so big and self-reliant a man.  "Just
+your moral support, you know.  It would be something."
+
+"Of course."  Antony smiled back at him, and said cheerfully,
+"Well, then, I'll begin by suggesting that you should ring up the
+police."
+
+"The police?  Y-yes." He looked doubtfully at the other.  "I
+suppose--"
+
+Antony spoke frankly.
+
+"Now, look here, Mr.--er--"
+
+"Cayley.  I'm Mark Ablett's cousin.  I live with him."
+
+"My name's Gillingham.  I'm sorry, I ought to have told you
+before.  Well now, Mr. Cayley, we shan't do any good by
+pretending.  Here's a man been shot--well, somebody shot him."
+
+"He might have shot himself," mumbled Cayley.
+
+"Yes, he might have, but he didn't.  Or if he did, somebody was
+in the room at the time, and that somebody isn't here now.  And
+that somebody took a revolver away with him.  Well, the police
+will want to say a word about that, won't they?"
+
+Cayley was silent, looking on the ground.
+
+"Oh, I know what you're thinking, and believe me I do sympathize
+with you, but we can't be children about it.  If your cousin Mark
+Ablett was in the room with this"--he indicated the body--"this
+man, then--"
+
+"Who said he was?" said Cayley, jerking his head up suddenly at
+Antony.
+
+"You did."
+
+"I was in the library.  Mark went in--he may have come out again
+--I know nothing.  Somebody else may have gone in--"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Antony patiently, as if to a little child.  "You
+know your cousin; I don't.  Let's agree that he had nothing to do
+with it.  But somebody was in the room when this man was shot,
+and--well, the police will have to know.  Don't you think--"  He
+looked at the telephone.  "Or would you rather I did it?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders and went to the telephone.
+
+"May I--er--look round a bit?"  Antony nodded towards the open
+door.
+
+"Oh, do.  Yes."  He sat down and drew the telephone towards him.
+"You must make allowances for me, Mr. Gillingham.  You see, I've
+known Mark for a very long time.  But, of course, you're quite
+right, and I'm merely being stupid."  He took off the receiver.
+
+Let us suppose that, for the purpose of making a first
+acquaintance with this "office," we are coming into it from the
+hall, through the door which is now locked, but which, for our
+special convenience, has been magically unlocked for us.  As we
+stand just inside the door, the length of the room runs right and
+left; or, more accurately, to the right only, for the left-hand
+wall is almost within our reach.  Immediately opposite to us,
+across the breadth of the room (some fifteen feet), is that other
+door, by which Cayley went out and returned a few minutes ago.
+In the right-hand wall, thirty feet away from us, are the French
+windows.  Crossing the room and going out by the opposite door,
+we come into a passage, from which two rooms lead.  The one on
+the right, into which Cayley went, is less than half the length
+of the office, a small, square room, which has evidently been
+used some time or other as a bedroom.  The bed is no longer
+there, but there is a basin, with hot and cold taps, in a corner;
+chairs; a cupboard or two, and a chest of drawers. The window
+faces the same way as the French windows in the next room; but
+anybody looking out of the bedroom window has his view on the
+immediate right shut off by the outer wall of the office, which
+projects, by reason of its greater length, fifteen feet further
+into the lawn.
+
+The room on the other side of the bedroom is a bathroom.  The
+three rooms together, in fact, form a sort of private suite;
+used, perhaps, during the occupation of the previous owner, by
+some invalid, who could not manage the stairs, but allowed by
+Mark to fall into disuse, save for the living-room.  At any rate,
+he never slept downstairs.
+
+Antony glanced at the bathroom, and then wandered into the
+bedroom, the room into which Cayley had been.  The window was
+open, and he looked out at the well-kept grass beneath him, and
+the peaceful stretch of park beyond; and he felt very sorry for
+the owner of it all, who was now mixed up in so grim a business.
+
+"Cayley thinks he did it," said Antony to himself.  "That's
+obvious.  It explains why he wasted so much time banging on the
+door.  Why should he try to break a lock when it's so much easier
+to break a window?  Of course he might just have lost his head;
+on the other hand, he might--well, he might have wanted to give
+his cousin a chance of getting away.  The same about the police,
+and--oh, lots of things.  Why, for instance, did we run all the
+way round the house in order to get to the windows?  Surely
+there's a back way out through the hall.  I must have a look
+later on."
+
+Antony, it will be observed, had by no means lost his head.
+
+There was a step in the passage outside, and he turned round, to
+see Cayley in the doorway.  He remained looking at him for a
+moment, asking himself a question.  It was rather a curious
+question.  He was asking himself why the door was open.
+
+Well, not exactly why the door was open; that could be explained
+easily enough.  But why had he expected the door to be shut?  He
+did not remember shutting it, but somehow he was surprised to see
+it open now, to see Cayley through the doorway, just coming into
+the room.  Something working sub-consciously in his brain had
+told him that it was surprising.  Why?
+
+He tucked the matter away in a corner of his mind for the moment;
+the answer would come to him later on.  He had a wonderfully
+retentive mind.  Everything which he saw or heard seemed to make
+its corresponding impression somewhere in his brain; often
+without his being conscious of it; and these photographic
+impressions were always there ready for him when he wished to
+develop them.
+
+Cayley joined him at the window.
+
+"I've telephoned," he said.  "They're sending an inspector or
+some one from Middleston, and the local police and doctor from
+Stanton."  He shrugged his shoulders.  "We're in for it now."
+
+"How far away is Middleston?"  It was the town for which Antony
+had taken a ticket that morning--only six hours ago.  How absurd
+it seemed.
+
+"About twenty miles.  These people will be coming back soon."
+
+"Beverley, and the others?"
+
+"Yes.  I expect they'll want to go away at once."
+
+"Much better that they should."
+
+"Yes."  Cayley was silent for a little.  Then he said, "You're
+staying near here?"
+
+"I'm at 'The George,' at Waldheim."
+
+"If you're by yourself, I wish you'd put up here.  You see," he
+went on awkwardly, "you'll have to be here--for the--the inquest
+and--and so on.  If I may offer you my cousin's hospitality in
+his--I mean if he doesn't--if he really has--"
+
+Antony broke in hastily with his thanks and acceptance.
+
+"That's good.  Perhaps Beverley will stay on, if he's a friend of
+yours.  He's a good fellow."
+
+Antony felt quite sure, from what Cayley had said and had
+hesitated to say, that Mark had been the last to see his brother
+alive.  It didn't follow that Mark Ablett was a murderer.
+Revolvers go off accidentally; and when they have gone off,
+people lose their heads and run away, fearing that their story
+will not be believed.  Nevertheless, when people run away,
+whether innocently or guiltily, one can't help wondering which
+way they went.
+
+"I suppose this way," said Antony aloud, looking out of the
+window.
+
+"Who?" said Cayley stubbornly.
+
+"Well, whoever it was," said Antony, smiling to himself.  "The
+murderer.  Or, let us say, the man who locked the door after
+Robert Ablett was killed."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, how else could he have got away?  He didn't go by the
+windows in the next room, because they were shut."
+
+"Isn't that rather odd?"
+
+"Well, I thought so at first, but--"  He pointed to the wall
+jutting out on the right.  "You see, you're protected from the
+rest of the house if you get out here, and you're quite close to
+the shrubbery. If you go out at the French windows, I imagine
+you're much more visible.  All that part of the house--" he waved
+his right hand--"the west, well, north-west almost, where the
+kitchen parts are--you see, you're hidden from them here.  Oh,
+yes!  he knew the house, whoever it was, and he was quite right
+to come out of this window.  He'd be into the shrubbery at once."
+
+Cayley looked at him thoughtfully.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Gillingham, that you know the house pretty
+well, considering that this is the first time you've been to it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, I notice things, you know.  I was born noticing.  But
+I'm right, aren't I, about why he went out this way?"
+
+"Yes, I think you are."  Cayley looked away--towards the
+shrubbery. "Do you want to go noticing in there now?"  He nodded
+at it.
+
+"I think we might leave that to the police," said Antony gently.
+"It's--well, there's no hurry."
+
+Cayley gave a little sigh, as if he had been holding his breath
+for the answer, and could now breathe again.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+The Brother from Australia
+
+
+Guests at the Red House were allowed to do what they liked within
+reason--the reasonableness or otherwise of it being decided by
+Mark. But when once they (or Mark) had made up their minds as to
+what they wanted to do, the plan had to be kept.  Mrs. Calladine,
+who knew this little weakness of their host's, resisted,
+therefore, the suggestion of Bill that they should have a second
+round in the afternoon, and drive home comfortably after tea.
+The other golfers were willing enough, but Mrs. Calladine,
+without actually saying that Mr. Ablett wouldn't like it, was
+firm on the point that, having arranged to be back by four, they
+should be back by four.
+
+"I really don't think Mark wants us, you know," said the Major.
+Having played badly in the morning, he wanted to prove to himself
+in the afternoon that he was really better than that.  "With this
+brother of his coming, he'll be only too glad to have us out of
+the way."
+
+"Of course he will, Major."  This from Bill.  "You'd like to
+play, wouldn't you, Miss Norris?"
+
+Miss Norris looked doubtfully at the hostess.
+
+"Of course, if you want to get back, dear, we mustn't keep you
+here.  Besides, it's so dull for you, not playing."
+
+"Just nine holes, mother," pleaded Betty.
+
+"The car could take you back, and you could tell them that we
+were having another round, and then it could come back for us,"
+said Bill brilliantly.
+
+"It's certainly much cooler here than I expected," put in the
+Major.
+
+Mrs. Calladine fell.  It was very pleasantly cool outside the
+golf-house, and of course Mark would be rather glad to have them
+out of the way.  So she consented to nine holes; and the match
+having ended all-square, and everybody having played much better
+than in the morning, they drove back to the Red House, very well
+pleased with themselves.
+
+"Halo," said Bill to himself, as they approached the house,
+"isn't that old Tony?"
+
+Antony was standing in front of the house, waiting for them.
+Bill waved, and he waved back.  Then as the car drew up, Bill,
+who was in front with the chauffeur, jumped down and greeted him
+eagerly.
+
+"Hallo, you madman, have you come to stay, or what?"  He had a
+sudden idea.  "Don't say you're Mark Ablett's long-lost brother
+from Australia, though I could quite believe it of you."  He
+laughed boyishly.
+
+"Hallo, Bill," said Antony quietly.  "Will you introduce me?  I'm
+afraid I've got some bad news."
+
+Bill, rather sobered by this, introduced him.  The Major and Mrs.
+Calladine were on the near side of the car, and Antony spoke to
+them in a low voice.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm going to give you rather a shock," he said.
+"Robert Ablett, Mr. Mark Ablett's brother, has been killed."  He
+jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "In the house."
+
+"Good God!" said the Major.
+
+"Do you mean that he has killed himself?" asked Mrs. Calladine.
+"Just now?"
+
+"It was about two hours ago.  I happened to come here,"--he
+half-turned to Beverley and explained--"I was coming to see you,
+Bill, and I arrived just after the--the death.  Mr. Cayley and I
+found the body.  Mr. Cayley being busy just now--there are police
+and doctors and so on in the house--he asked me to tell you.  He
+says that no doubt you would prefer, the house-party having been
+broken up in this tragic way, to leave as soon as possible."  He
+gave a pleasant apologetic little smile and went on, "I am
+putting it badly, but what he means, of course, is that you must
+consult your own feelings in the matter entirely, and please make
+your own arrangements about ordering the car for whatever train
+you wish to catch.  There is one this evening, I understand,
+which you could go by if you wished it."
+
+Bill gazed with open mouth at Antony.  He had no words in his
+vocabulary to express what he wanted to say, other than those the
+Major had already used.  Betty was leaning across to Miss Norris
+and saying, "Who's killed?" in an awe-struck voice, and Miss
+Norris, who was instinctively looking as tragic as she looked on
+the stage when a messenger announced the death of one of the
+cast, stopped for a moment in order to explain.  Mrs. Calladine
+was quietly mistress of herself.
+
+"We shall be in the way, yes, I quite understand," she said; "but
+we can't just shake the dust of the place off our shoes because
+something terrible has happened there.  I must see Mark, and we
+can arrange later what to do.  He must know how very deeply we
+feel for him.  Perhaps we--" she hesitated.
+
+"The Major and I might be useful anyway," said Bill.  "Isn't that
+what you mean, Mrs. Calladine?"
+
+"Where is Mark?" said the Major suddenly, looking hard at Antony.
+
+Antony looked back unwaveringly--and said nothing.
+
+"I think," said the Major gently, leaning over to Mrs. Calladine,
+"that it would be better if you took Betty back to London
+to-night."
+
+"Very well," she agreed quietly.  "You will come with us, Ruth?"
+
+"I'll see you safely there," said Bill in a meek voice.  He
+didn't quite know what was happening, and, having expected to
+stay at the Red House for another week, he had nowhere to go to
+in London, but London seemed to be the place that everyone was
+going to, and when he could get Tony alone for a moment, Tony no
+doubt would explain.
+
+"Cayley wants you to stay, Bill.  You have to go anyhow,
+to-morrow, Major Rumbold?"
+
+"Yes.  I'll come with you, Mrs. Calladine."
+
+"Mr. Cayley would wish me to say again that you will please not
+hesitate to give your own orders, both as regard the car and as
+regard any telephoning or telegraphing that you want done."  He
+smiled again and added, "Please forgive me if I seem to have
+taken a good deal upon myself, but I just happened to be handy as
+a mouthpiece for Cayley."  He bowed to them and went into the
+house.
+
+"Well!" said Miss Norris dramatically.
+
+As Antony re-entered the hall, the Inspector from Middleston was
+just crossing into the library with Cayley.  The latter stopped
+and nodded to Antony.
+
+"Wait a moment, Inspector.  Here's Mr. Gillingham.  He'd better
+come with us."  And then to Antony, "This is Inspector Birch."
+
+Birch looked inquiringly from one to the other.
+
+"Mr. Gillingham and I found the body together," explained Cayley.
+
+"Oh!  Well, come along, and let's get the facts sorted out a bit.
+I like to know where I am, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+"We all do."
+
+"Oh!"  He looked at Antony with interest.  "D'you know where you
+are in this case?"
+
+"I know where I'm going to be."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"Put through it by Inspector Birch," said Antony with a smile.
+
+The inspector laughed genially.
+
+"Well, I'll spare you as much as I can.  Come along."
+
+They went into the library.  The inspector seated himself at a
+writing-table, and Cayley sat in a chair by the side of it.
+Antony made himself comfortable in an armchair and prepared to be
+interested.
+
+"We'll start with the dead man," said the Inspector.  "Robert
+Ablett, didn't you say?"  He took out his notebook.
+
+"Yes.  Brother of Mark Ablett, who lives here."
+
+"Ah!"  He began to sharpen a pencil.  "Staying in the house?"
+
+"Oh, no!"
+
+Antony listened attentively while Cayley explained all that he
+knew about Robert.  This was news to him.  "I see.  Sent out of
+the country in disgrace.  What had he done?"
+
+"I hardly know.  I was only about twelve at the time.  The sort
+of age when you're told not to ask questions."
+
+"Inconvenient questions?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"So you don't really know whether he had been merely wild or--or
+wicked?"
+
+"No.  Old Mr. Ablett was a clergyman," added Cayley.  "Perhaps
+what might seem wicked to a clergyman might seem only wild to a
+man of the world."
+
+"I daresay, Mr. Cayley," smiled the Inspector.  "Anyhow, it was
+more convenient to have him in Australia?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mark Ablett never talked about him?"
+
+"Hardly ever.  He was very much ashamed of him, and--well, very
+glad he was in Australia."
+
+"Did he write Mark sometimes?"
+
+"Occasionally.  Perhaps three or four times in the last five
+years."
+
+"Asking for money?"
+
+"Something of the sort.  I don't think Mark always answered them.
+As far as I know, he never sent any money."
+
+"Now your own private opinion, Mr. Cayley.  Do you think that
+Mark was unfair to his brother?  Unduly hard on him?"
+
+"They'd never liked each other as boys.  There was never any
+affection between them.  I don't know whose fault it was in the
+first place--if anybody's."
+
+"Still, Mark might have given him a hand?"
+
+"I understand," said Cayley, "that Robert spent his whole life
+asking for hands."
+
+The inspector nodded.
+
+"I know that sort.  Well, now, we'll go on to this morning.  This
+letter that Mark got--did you see it?"
+
+"Not at the time.  He showed it to me afterwards."
+
+"Any address?"
+
+"No.  A half-sheet of rather dirty paper."
+
+"Where is it now?"
+
+"I don't know.  In Mark's pocket, I expect."
+
+"Ah!"  He pulled at his beard.  "Well, we'll come to that.  Can
+you remember what it said?"
+
+"As far as I remember, something like this: 'Mark, your loving
+brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from
+Australia. I give you warning so that you will be able to conceal
+your surprise, but not I hope, your pleasure.  Expect him at
+three, or thereabouts.'"
+
+"Ah!"  The inspector copied it down carefully.  "Did you notice
+the postmark?"
+
+"London."
+
+"And what was Mark's attitude?"
+
+"Annoyance, disgust--" Cayley hesitated.
+
+"Apprehension?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly.  Or, rather, apprehension of an unpleasant
+interview, not of any unpleasant outcome for himself."
+
+"You mean that he wasn't afraid of violence, or blackmail, or
+anything of that sort?"
+
+"He didn't appear to be."
+
+"Right . . . .  Now then, he arrived, you say, about three
+o'clock?"
+
+"Yes, about that."
+
+"Who was in the house then?"
+
+"Mark and myself, and some of the servants.  I don't know which.
+Of course, you will ask them directly, no doubt."
+
+"With your permission.  No guests?"
+
+"They were out all day playing golf," explained Cayley.  "Oh, by
+the way," he put in, "if I may interrupt a moment, will you want
+to see them at all?  It isn't very pleasant for them now,
+naturally, and I suggested--" he turned to Antony, who nodded
+back to him.  "I understand that they want to go back to London
+this evening.  There's no objection to that, I suppose?"
+
+"You will let me have their names and addresses in case I want to
+communicate with them?"
+
+"Of course.  One of them is staying on, if you would like to see
+him later, but they only came back from their golf as we crossed
+the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Cayley.  Well, now then, let's go back to
+three o'clock.  Where were you when Robert arrived?"
+
+Cayley explained how he had been sitting in the hall, how Audrey
+had asked him where the master was, and how he had said that he
+had last seen him going up to the Temple.
+
+"She went away, and I went on with my book.  There was a step on
+the stairs, and I looked up to see Mark coming down.  He went
+into the office, and I went on with my book again.  I went into
+the library for a moment, to refer to another book, and when I
+was in there I heard a shot.  At least, it was a loud bang, I
+wasn't sure if it was a shot.  I stood and listened.  Then I came
+slowly to the door and looked out.  Then I went back again,
+hesitated a bit, you know, and finally decided to go across to
+the office, and make sure that it was all right.  I turned the
+handle of the door and found it was locked.  Then I got
+frightened, and I banged at the door, and shouted, and--well,
+that was when Mr. Gillingham arrived."  He went on to explain how
+they had found the body.
+
+The inspector looked at him with a smile.
+
+"Yes, well, we shall have to go over some of that again, Mr.
+Cayley. Mr. Mark, now.  You thought he was in the Temple.  Could
+he have come in, and gone up to his room, without your seeing
+him?"
+
+"There are back stairs.  He wouldn't have used them in the
+ordinary way, of course.  But I wasn't in the hall all the
+afternoon.  He might easily have gone upstairs without my knowing
+anything about it."
+
+"So that you weren't surprised when you saw him coming down?"
+
+"Oh, not a bit."
+
+"Well, did he say anything?"
+
+"He said, 'Robert's here?' or something of the sort.  I suppose
+he'd heard the bell, or the voices in the hall."
+
+"Which way does his bedroom face?  Could he have seen him coming
+down the drive?"
+
+"He might have, yes."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, then, I said 'Yes,' and he gave a sort of shrug, and said,
+'Don't go too far away, I might want you'; and then went in."
+
+"What did you think he meant by that?"
+
+"Well, he consults me a good deal, you know.  I'm his sort of
+unofficial solicitor in a kind of way."
+
+"This was a business meeting rather than a brotherly one?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  That's how he regarded it, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes.  How long was it before you heard the shot?"
+
+"Very soon.  Two minutes, perhaps."
+
+The inspector finished his writing, and then regarded Cayley
+thoughtfully.  Suddenly he said:
+
+"What is your theory of Robert's death?"
+
+Cayley shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"You've probably seen more than I've seen," he answered.  "It's
+your job.  I can only speak as a layman--and Mark's friend."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and
+bringing a revolver with him.  He produced it almost at once,
+Mark tried to get it from him, there was a little struggle
+perhaps, and it went off.  Mark lost his head, finding himself
+there with a revolver in his hand and a dead man at his feet.
+His one idea was to escape.  He locked the door almost
+instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went
+out of the window."
+
+"Y-yes.  Well, that sounds reasonable enough.  What do you say,
+Mr. Gillingham?"
+
+"I should hardly call it 'reasonable' to lose your head," said
+Antony, getting up from his chair and coming towards them.
+
+"Well, you know what I mean.  It explains things."
+
+"Oh, yes.  Any other explanation would make them much more
+complicated."
+
+"Have you any other explanation?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr.
+Cayley?--anything that he left out after you arrived here?"
+
+"No, thanks.  He described it all very accurately."
+
+"Ah!  Well now, about yourself.  You're not staying in the house,
+I gather?"
+
+Antony explained his previous movements.
+
+"Yes.  Did you hear the shot?"
+
+Antony put his head on one side, as if listening.  "Yes.  Just as
+I came in sight of the house.  It didn't make any impression at
+the time, but I remember it now."
+
+"Where were you then?"
+
+"Coming up the drive.  I was just in sight of the house."
+
+"Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?"
+
+Antony closed his eyes and considered.
+
+"Nobody," he said.  "No."
+
+"You're certain of that?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Antony, as though rather surprised that he
+could be suspected of a mistake.
+
+"Thank you.  You're at 'The George,' if I want you?"
+
+"Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest,"
+explained Cayley.
+
+"Good.  Well now, about these servants?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession
+
+
+As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the
+door.
+
+"Well, you won't want me, I suppose, inspector," he said.
+
+"No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham.  You'll be about, of course?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+The inspector hesitated.
+
+"I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants
+alone.  You know what they are; the more people about, the more
+they get alarmed.  I expect I can get at the truth better by
+myself."
+
+"Oh, quite so.  In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me.  I
+feel rather responsible towards these guests of ours.  Although
+Mr. Gillingham very kindly--"  He smiled at Antony, who was
+waiting at the door, and left his sentence unfinished.
+
+"Ah, that reminds me," said the Inspector.  "Didn't you say that
+one of your guests--Mr. Beverley was it?--a friend of Mr.
+Gillingham's, was staying on?"
+
+"Yes; would you like to see him?"
+
+"Afterwards, if I may."
+
+"I'll warn him.  I shall be up in my room, if you want me.  I
+have a room upstairs where I work--any of the servants will show
+you.  Ah, Stevens, Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few
+questions."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering.  The
+housekeeper's room had heard something of the news by this time,
+and Audrey had had a busy time explaining to other members of the
+staff exactly what he had said, and what she had said.  The
+details were not quite established yet, but this much at least
+was certain: that Mr. Mark's brother had shot himself and
+spirited Mr. Mark away, and that Audrey had seen at once that he
+was that sort of man when she opened the door to him.  She had
+passed the remark to Mrs. Stevens.  And Mrs. Stevens--if you
+remember, Audrey--had always said that people didn't go away to
+Australia except for very good reasons.  Elsie agreed with both
+of them, but she had a contribution of her own to make.  She had
+actually heard Mr. Mark in the office, threatening his brother.
+
+"You mean Mr. Robert," said the second parlour-maid.  She had
+been having a little nap in her room, but she had heard the bang.
+In fact, it had woken her up--just like something going off, it
+was.
+
+"It was Mr. Mark's voice," said Elsie firmly.
+
+"Pleading for mercy," said an eager-eyed kitchen-maid hopefully
+from the door, and was hurried out again by the others, wishing
+that she had not given her presence away.  But it was hard to
+listen in silence when she knew so well from her novelettes just
+what happened on these occasions.
+
+"I shall have to give that girl a piece of my mind," said Mrs.
+Stevens.  "Well, Elsie?"
+
+"He said, I heard him say it with my own ears, 'It's my turn
+now,' he said, triumphant-like."
+
+"Well, if you think that's a threat, dear, you're very
+particular, I must say."
+
+But Audrey remembered Elsie's words when she was in front of
+Inspector Birch.  She gave her own evidence with the readiness of
+one who had already repeated it several times, and was examined
+and cross-examined by the Inspector with considerable skill.  The
+temptation to say, "Never mind about what you said to him," was
+strong, but he resisted it, knowing that in this way he would
+discover best what he said to her.  By this time both his words
+and the looks he gave her were getting their full value from
+Audrey, but the general meaning of them seemed to be
+well-established.
+
+"Then you didn't see Mr. Mark at all."
+
+"No, sir; he must have come in before and gone up to his room.
+Or come in by the front door, likely enough, while I was going
+out by the back."
+
+"Yes.  Well, I think that's all that I want to know, thank you
+very much.  Now what about the other servants?"
+
+"Elsie heard the master and Mr. Robert talking together," said
+Audrey eagerly.  "He was saying--Mr. Mark, I mean--"
+
+"Ah!  Well, I think Elsie had better tell me that herself.  Who
+is Elsie, by the way?"
+
+"One of the housemaids.  Shall I send her to you, sir?"
+
+"Please."
+
+Elsie was not sorry to get the message.  It interrupted a few
+remarks from Mrs. Stevens about Elsie's conduct that afternoon
+which were (Elsie thought) much better interrupted.  In Mrs.
+Stevens' opinion any crime committed that afternoon in the office
+was as nothing to the double crime committed by the unhappy
+Elsie.
+
+For Elsie realized too late that she would have done better to
+have said nothing about her presence in the hall that afternoon.
+She was bad at concealing the truth and Mrs. Stevens was good at
+discovering it.  Elsie knew perfectly well that she had no
+business to come down the front stairs, and it was no excuse to
+say that she happened to come out of Miss Norris' room just at
+the head of the stairs, and didn't think it would matter, as
+there was nobody in the hall, and what was she doing anyhow in
+Miss Norris' room at that time?  Returning a magazine?  Lent by
+Miss Norris, might she ask?  Well, not exactly lent.  Really,
+Elsie!--and this in a respectable house!  In vain for poor Elsie
+to plead that a story by her favourite author was advertised on
+the cover, with a picture of the villain falling over the cliff.
+"That's where you'll go to, my girl, if you aren't careful," said
+Mrs. Stevens firmly.
+
+But, of course, there was no need to confess all these crimes to
+Inspector Birch.  All that interested him was that she was
+passing through the hall, and heard voices in the office.
+
+"And stopped to listen?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Elsie with dignity, feeling that nobody
+really understood her.  "I was just passing through the hall,
+just as you might have been yourself, and not supposing they was
+talking secrets, didn't think to stop my ears, as no doubt I
+ought to have done."  And she sniffed slightly.
+
+"Come, come," said the Inspector soothingly, "I didn't mean to
+suggest--"
+
+"Everyone is very unkind to me," said Elsie between sniffs, "and
+there's that poor man lying dead there, and sorry they'd have
+been, if it had been me, to have spoken to me as they have done
+this day."
+
+"Nonsense, we're going to be very proud of you.  I shouldn't be
+surprised if your evidence were of very great importance.  Now
+then, what was it you heard?  Try to remember the exact words."
+
+Something about working in a passage, thought Elsie.
+
+"Yes, but who said it?"
+
+"Mr. Robert."
+
+"How do you know it was Mr. Robert?  Had you heard his voice
+before?"
+
+"I don't take it upon myself to say that I had had any
+acquaintance with Mr. Robert, but seeing that it wasn't Mr. Mark,
+nor yet Mr. Cayley, nor any other of the gentlemen, and Miss
+Stevens had shown Mr. Robert into the office not five minutes
+before--"
+
+"Quite so," said the Inspector hurriedly.  "Mr. Robert,
+undoubtedly.  Working in a passage?"
+
+"That was what it sounded like, sir."
+
+"H'm.  Working a passage over--could that have been it?"
+
+"That's right, sir," said Elsie eagerly.  "He'd worked his
+passage over."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And then Mr. Mark said loudly--sort of triumphant-like--'It's my
+turn now.  You wait.'"
+
+"Triumphantly?"
+
+"As much as to say his chance had come."
+
+"And that's all you heard?"
+
+"That's all, sir--not standing there listening, but just passing
+through the hall, as it might be any time."
+
+"Yes.  Well, that's really very important, Elsie.  Thank you."
+
+Elsie gave him a smile, and returned eagerly to the kitchen.  She
+was ready for Mrs. Stevens or anybody now.
+
+Meanwhile Antony had been exploring a little on his own.  There
+was a point which was puzzling him.  He went through the hall to
+the front of the house and stood at the open door, looking out on
+to the drive.  He and Cayley had run round the house to the left.
+Surely it would have been quicker to have run round to the right?
+The front door was not in the middle of the house, it was to the
+end.  Undoubtedly they went the longest way round.  But perhaps
+there was something in the way, if one went to the right--a wall,
+say.  He strolled off in that direction, followed a path round
+the house and came in sight of the office windows.  Quite simple,
+and about half the distance of the other way.  He went on a
+little farther, and came to a door, just beyond the broken-in
+windows.  It opened easily, and he found himself in a passage.
+At the end of the passage was another door.  He opened it and
+found himself in the hall again.
+
+"And, of course, that's the quickest way of the three," he said
+to himself.  "Through the hall, and out at the back; turn to the
+left and there you are.  Instead of which, we ran the longest way
+round the house.  Why?  Was it to give Mark more time in which to
+escape?  Only, in that case--why run?  Also, how did Cayley know
+then that it was Mark who was trying to escape?  If he had
+guessed--well, not guessed, but been afraid--that one had shot
+the other, it was much more likely that Robert had shot Mark.
+Indeed, he had admitted that this was what he thought.  The first
+thing he had said when he turned the body over was, 'Thank God!
+I was afraid it was Mark.'  But why should he want to give Robert
+time in which to get away?  And again--why run, if he did want to
+give him time?"
+
+Antony went out of the house again to the lawns at the back, and
+sat down on a bench in view of the office windows.
+
+"Now then," he said, "let's go through Cayley's mind carefully,
+and see what we get."
+
+Cayley had been in the hall when Robert was shown into the
+office.  The servant goes off to look for Mark, and Cayley goes
+on with his book.  Mark comes down the stairs, warns Cayley to
+stand by in case he is wanted, and goes to meet his brother.
+What does Cayley expect?  Possibly that he won't be wanted at
+all; possibly that his advice may be wanted in the matter, say,
+of paying Robert's debts, or getting him a passage back to
+Australia; possibly that his physical assistance may be wanted to
+get an obstreperous Robert out of the house.  Well, he sits there
+for a moment, and then goes into the library.  Why not?  He is
+still within reach, if wanted.  Suddenly he hears a pistol-shot.
+A pistol-shot is the last noise you expect to hear in a
+country-house; very natural, then, that for the moment he would
+hardly realize what it was.  He listens--and hears nothing more.
+Perhaps it wasn't a pistol-shot after all. After a moment or two
+he goes to the library door again.  The profound silence makes
+him uneasy now.  Was it a pistol-shot?  Absurd!  Still--no harm
+in going into the office on some excuse, just to reassure
+himself.  So he tries the door--and finds it locked!
+
+What are his emotions now?  Alarm, uncertainty.  Something is
+happening.  Incredible though it seems, it must have been a
+pistol-shot.  He is banging at the door and calling out to Mark,
+and there is no answer.  Alarm--yes.  But alarm for whose safety?
+Mark's, obviously.  Robert is a stranger; Mark is an intimate
+friend.  Robert has written a letter that morning, the letter of
+a man in a dangerous temper.  Robert is the tough customer; Mark
+the highly civilized gentleman.  If there has been a quarrel, it
+is Robert who has shot Mark.  He bangs at the door again.
+
+Of course, to Antony, coming suddenly upon this scene, Cayley's
+conduct had seemed rather absurd, but then, just for the moment,
+Cayley had lost his head.  Anybody else might have done the same.
+But, as soon as Antony suggested trying the windows, Cayley saw
+that that was the obvious thing to do.  So he leads the way to
+the windows--the longest way.
+
+Why?  To give the murderer time to escape?  If he had thought
+then that Mark was the murderer, perhaps, yes.  But he thinks
+that Robert is the murderer.  If he is not hiding anything, he
+must think so.  Indeed he says so, when he sees the body; "I was
+afraid it was Mark," he says, when he finds that it is Robert who
+is killed.  No reason, then, for wishing to gain time.  On the
+contrary, every instinct would urge him to get into the room as
+quickly as possible, and seize the wicked Robert.  Yet he goes
+the longest way round.  Why?  And then, why run?
+
+"That's the question," said Antony to himself, as he filled his
+pipe, "and bless me if I know the answer.  It may be, of course,
+that Cayley is just a coward.  He was in no hurry to get close to
+Robert's revolver, and yet wanted me to think that he was
+bursting with eagerness.  That would explain it, but then that
+makes Cayley out a coward.  Is he?  At any rate he pushed his
+face up against the window bravely enough.  No, I want a better
+answer than that."
+
+He sat there with his unlit pipe in his hand, thinking.  There
+were one or two other things in the back of his brain, waiting to
+be taken out and looked at.  For the moment he left them
+undisturbed. They would come back to him later when he wanted
+them.
+
+He laughed suddenly, and lit his pipe.
+
+"I was wanting a new profession," he thought, "and now I've found
+it.  Antony Gillingham, our own private sleuthhound.  I shall
+begin to-day."
+
+Whatever Antony Gillingham's other qualifications for his new
+profession, he had at any rate a brain which worked clearly and
+quickly.  And this clear brain of his had already told him that
+he was the only person in the house at that moment who was
+unhandicapped in the search for truth.  The inspector had arrived
+in it to find a man dead and a man missing.  It was extremely
+probable, no doubt, that the missing man had shot the dead man.
+But it was more than extremely probable, it was almost certain
+that the Inspector would start with the idea that this extremely
+probable solution was the one true solution, and that, in
+consequence, he would be less disposed to consider without
+prejudice any other solution.  As regards all the rest of them
+--Cayley, the guests, the servants--they also were prejudiced; in
+favour of Mark (or possibly, for all he knew, against Mark); in
+favour of, or against, each other; they had formed some previous
+opinion, from what had been said that morning, of the sort of man
+Robert was.  No one of them could consider the matter with an
+unbiased mind.
+
+But Antony could.  He knew nothing about Mark; he knew nothing
+about Robert.  He had seen the dead man before he was told who
+the dead man was.  He knew that a tragedy had happened before he
+knew that anybody was missing.  Those first impressions, which
+are so vitally important, had been received solely on the merits
+of the case; they were founded on the evidence of his senses, not
+on the evidence of his emotions or of other people's senses.  He
+was in a much better position for getting at the truth than was
+the Inspector.
+
+It is possible that, in thinking this, Antony was doing Inspector
+Birch a slight injustice.  Birch was certainly prepared to
+believe that Mark had shot his brother.  Robert had been shown
+into the office (witness Audrey); Mark had gone in to Robert
+(witness Cayley); Mark and Robert had been heard talking (witness
+Elsie); there was a shot (witness everybody); the room had been
+entered and Robert's body had been found (witness Cayley and
+Gillingham).  And Mark was missing.  Obviously, then, Mark had
+killed his brother: accidentally, as Cayley believed, or
+deliberately, as Elsie's evidence seemed to suggest.  There was
+no point in looking for a difficult solution to a problem, when
+the easy solution had no flaw in it.  But at the same time Birch
+would have preferred the difficult solution, simply because there
+was more credit attached to it.  A "sensational" arrest of
+somebody in the house would have given him more pleasure than a
+commonplace pursuit of Mark Ablett across country.  Mark must be
+found, guilty or not guilty.  But there were other possibilities.
+It would have interested Antony to know that, just at the time
+when he was feeling rather superior to the prejudiced inspector,
+the Inspector himself was letting his mind dwell lovingly upon
+the possibilities in connection with Mr. Gillingham.  Was it only
+a coincidence that Mr. Gillingham had turned up just when he did?
+And Mr. Beverley's curious answers when asked for some account of
+his friend.  An assistant in a tobacconist's, a waiter!   An odd
+man, Mr. Gillingham, evidently.  It might be as well to keep an
+eye on him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+Outside Or Inside?
+
+
+The guests had said good-bye to Cayley, according to their
+different manner.  The Major, gruff and simple: "If you want me,
+command me.  Anything I can do--Good-bye"; Betty, silently
+sympathetic, with everything in her large eyes which she was too
+much overawed to tell; Mrs. Calladine, protesting that she did
+not know what to say, but apparently finding plenty; and Miss
+Norris, crowding so much into one despairing gesture that
+Cayley's unvarying "Thank you very much" might have been taken
+this time as gratitude for an artistic entertainment.
+
+Bill had seen them into the car, had taken his own farewells
+(with a special squeeze of the hand for Betty), and had wandered
+out to join Antony on his garden seat.
+
+"Well, this is a rum show," said Bill as he sat down.
+
+"Very rum, William."
+
+"And you actually walked right into it?"
+
+"Right into it," said Antony.
+
+"Then you're the man I want.  There are all sorts of rumours and
+mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn't keep
+to the point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or
+whatever it is, but kept asking me questions about where I'd met
+you first, and all sorts of dull things like that.  Now, what
+really happened?"
+
+Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already
+told the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with
+appropriate "Good Lords" and whistles.
+
+"I say, it's a bit of a business, isn't it?  Where do I come in,
+exactly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put
+through it by that inspector as if I knew all about it--what's
+the idea?"
+
+Antony smiled at him.
+
+"Well, there's nothing to worry about, you know.  Naturally Birch
+wanted to see one of you so as to know what you'd all been doing
+all day.  And Cayley was nice enough to think that you'd be
+company for me, as I knew you already.  And well, that's all."
+
+"You're staying here, in the house?" said Bill eagerly.  "Good
+man. That's splendid."
+
+"It reconciles you to the departure of some of the others?"
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Oh, well, I shall see her again next week, anyway," he murmured.
+
+"I congratulate you.  I liked her looks.  And that grey dress.  A
+nice comfortable sort of woman."
+
+"You fool, that's her mother."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon.  But anyhow, Bill, I want you more than
+she does just now.  So try and put up with me."
+
+"I say, do you really?" said Bill, rather flattered.  He had a
+great admiration for Antony, and was very proud to be liked by
+him.
+
+"Yes.  You see, things are going to happen here soon."
+
+"Inquests and that sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, perhaps something before that.  Hallo, here comes Cayley."
+
+Cayley was walking across the lawn towards them, a big,
+heavy-shouldered man, with one of those strong, clean-shaven,
+ugly faces which can never quite be called plain.  "Bad luck on
+Cayley," said Bill.  "I say, ought I to tell him how sorry I am
+and all that sort of thing?  It seems so dashed inadequate."
+
+"I shouldn't bother," said Antony.
+
+Cayley nodded as he came to them, and stood there for a moment.
+
+"We can make room for you," said Bill, getting up.
+
+"Oh, don't bother, thanks.  I just came to say," he went on to
+Antony, "that naturally they've rather lost their heads in the
+kitchen, and dinner won't be till half-past eight.  Do just as
+you like about dressing, of course.  And what about your
+luggage?"
+
+"I thought Bill and I would walk over to the inn directly, and
+see about it."
+
+"The car can go and fetch it as soon as it comes back from the
+station."
+
+"It's very good of you, but I shall have to go over myself,
+anyhow, to pack up and pay my bill.  Besides, it's a good evening
+for a walk. If you wouldn't mind it, Bill?"
+
+"I should love it."
+
+"Well, then, if you leave the bag there, I'll send the car round
+for it later."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Having said what he wanted to say, Cayley remained there a little
+awkwardly, as if not sure whether to go or to stay.  Antony
+wondered whether he wanted to talk about the afternoon's
+happenings, or whether it was the one subject he wished to avoid.
+To break the silence he asked carelessly if the Inspector had
+gone.
+
+Cayley nodded.  Then he said abruptly, "He's getting a warrant
+for Mark's arrest."
+
+Bill made a suitably sympathetic noise, and Antony said with a
+shrug of the shoulders, "Well, he was bound to do that, wasn't
+he?  It doesn't follow that--well, it doesn't mean anything.
+They naturally want to get hold of your cousin, innocent or
+guilty."
+
+"Which do you think he is, Mr. Gillingham?" said Cayley, looking
+at him steadily.
+
+"Mark?  It's absurd," said Bill impetuously.
+
+"Bill's loyal, you see, Mr. Cayley."
+
+"And you owe no loyalty to anyone concerned?"
+
+"Exactly.  So perhaps I might be too frank."
+
+Bill had dropped down on the grass, and Cayley took his place on
+the seat, and sat there heavily, his elbows on his knees, his
+chin on his hands, gazing at the ground.
+
+"I want you to be quite frank," he said at last.  "Naturally I am
+prejudiced where Mark is concerned.  So I want to know how my
+suggestion strikes you who have no prejudices either way."
+
+"Your suggestion?"
+
+"My theory that, if Mark killed his brother, it was purely
+accidental as I told the Inspector."
+
+Bill looked up with interest.
+
+"You mean that Robert did the hold-up business," he said, "and
+there was a bit of a struggle, and the revolver went off, and
+then Mark lost his head and bolted?  That sort of idea?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that seems all right."  He turned to Antony.  "There's
+nothing wrong with that, is there?  It's the most natural
+explanation to anyone who knows Mark."
+
+Antony pulled at his pipe.
+
+"I suppose it is," he said slowly.  "But there's one thing that
+worries me rather."
+
+"What's that?" Bill and Cayley asked the question simultaneously.
+
+"The key."
+
+"The key?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley lifted his head and looked at Antony.  "What about the
+key?" he asked.
+
+"Well, there may be nothing in it; I just wondered.  Suppose
+Robert was killed as you say, and suppose Mark lost his head and
+thought of nothing but getting away before anyone could see him.
+Well, very likely he'd lock the door and put the key in his
+pocket.  He'd do it without thinking, just to gain a moment's
+time."
+
+"Yes, that's what I suggest."
+
+"It seems sound enough," said Bill.  "Sort of thing you'd do
+without thinking.  Besides, if you are going to run away, it
+gives you more of a chance."
+
+"Yes, that's all right if the key is there.  But suppose it isn't
+there?"
+
+The suggestion, made as if it were already an established fact,
+startled them both.  They looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Cayley.
+
+"Well, it's just a question of where people happen to keep their
+keys.  You go up to your bedroom, and perhaps you like to lock
+your door in case anybody comes wandering in when you've only got
+one sock and a pair of braces on.  Well, that's natural enough.
+And if you look round the bedrooms of almost any house, you'll
+find the keys all ready, so that you can lock yourself in at a
+moment's notice.  But downstairs people don't lock themselves in.
+It's really never done at all.  Bill, for instance, has never
+locked himself into the dining-room in order to be alone with the
+sherry.  On the other hand, all women, and particularly servants,
+have a horror of burglars.  And if a burglar gets in by the
+window, they like to limit his activities to that particular
+room.  So they keep the, keys on the outside of the doors, and
+lock the doors when they go to bed."  He knocked the ashes out of
+his pipe, and added, "At least, my mother always used to."
+
+"You mean," said Bill excitedly, "that the key was on the outside
+of the door when Mark went into the room?"
+
+"Well, I was just wondering."
+
+"Have you noticed the other rooms the billiard-room, and library,
+and so on?" said Cayley.
+
+"I've only just thought about it while I've been sitting out
+here. You live here haven't you ever noticed them?"
+
+Cayley sat considering, with his head on one side.
+
+"It seems rather absurd, you know, but I can't say that I have."
+He turned to Bill.  "Have you?"
+
+"Good Lord, no.  I should never worry about a thing like that."
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't," laughed Antony.  "Well, we can have a
+look when we go in.  If the other keys are outside, then this one
+was probably outside too, and in that case well, it makes it more
+interesting."
+
+Cayley said nothing.  Bill chewed a piece of grass, and then
+said, "Does it make much difference?"
+
+"It makes it more hard to understand what happened in there.
+Take your accidental theory and see where you get to.  No
+instinctive turning of the key now, is there?  He's got to open
+the door to get it, and opening the door means showing his head
+to anybody in the hall--his cousin, for instance, whom he left
+there two minutes ago. Is a man in Mark's state of mind,
+frightened to death lest he should be found with the body, going
+to do anything so foolhardy as that?"
+
+"He needn't have been afraid of me," said Cayley.
+
+"Then why didn't he call for you?  He knew you were about.  You
+could have advised him; Heaven knows he wanted advice.  But the
+whole theory of Mark's escape is that he was afraid of you and of
+everybody else, and that he had no other idea but to get out of
+the room himself, and prevent you or the servants from coming
+into it.  If the key had been on the inside, he would probably
+have locked the door.  If it were on the outside, he almost
+certainly wouldn't."
+
+"Yes, I expect you're right," said Bill thoughtfully.  "Unless he
+took the key in with him, and locked the door at once."
+
+"Exactly.  But in that case you have to build up a new theory
+entirely."
+
+"You mean that it makes it seem more deliberate?"
+
+"Yes; that, certainly.  But it also seems to make Mark out an
+absolute idiot.  Just suppose for a moment that, for urgent
+reasons which neither of you know anything about, he had wished
+to get rid of his brother.  Would he have done it like that?
+Just killed him and then run away?  Why, that's practically
+suicide--suicide whilst of unsound mind.  No.  If you really
+wanted to remove an undesirable brother, you would do it a little
+bit more cleverly than that. You'd begin by treating him as a
+friend, so as to avoid suspicion, and when you did kill him at
+last, you would try to make it look like an accident, or suicide,
+or the work of some other man.  Wouldn't you?"
+
+"You mean you'd give yourself a bit of a run for your money?"
+
+"Yes, that's what I mean.  If you were going to do it
+deliberately, that is to say and lock yourself in before you
+began."
+
+Cayley had been silent, apparently thinking over this new idea.
+With his eyes still on the ground, he said now: "I hold to my
+opinion that it was purely accidental, and that Mark lost his
+head and ran away."
+
+"But what about the key?" asked Bill.
+
+"We don't know yet that the keys were outside.  I don't at all
+agree with Mr. Gillingham that the keys of the down-stairs rooms
+are always outside the doors.  Sometimes they are, no doubt; but
+I think we shall probably find that these are inside."
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if they are inside, then your original
+theory is probably the correct one.  Having often seen them
+outside, I just wondered that's all.  You asked me to be quite
+frank, you know, and tell you what I thought.  But no doubt
+you're right, and we shall find them inside, as you say.
+
+"Even if the key was outside," went on Cayley stubbornly, "I
+still think it might have been accidental.  He might have taken
+it in with him, knowing that the interview would be an unpleasant
+one, and not wishing to be interrupted."
+
+"But he had just told you to stand by in case he wanted you; so
+why should he lock you out?  Besides, I should think that if a
+man were going to have an unpleasant interview with a threatening
+relation, the last thing he would do would be to barricade
+himself in with him.  He would want to open all the doors and
+say, 'Get out of it'"
+
+Cayley was silent, but his mouth looked obstinate.  Antony gave a
+little apologetic laugh and stood up.
+
+"Well, come on, Bill," he said; "we ought to be stepping."  He
+held out a hand and pulled his friend up.  Then, turning to
+Cayley, he went on, "You must forgive me if I have let my
+thoughts run on rather.  Of course, I was considering the matter
+purely as an outsider; just as a problem, I mean, which didn't
+concern the happiness of any of my friends."
+
+"That's all right, Mr. Gillingham," said Cayley, standing up too.
+"It is for you to make allowances for me.  I'm sure you will.
+You say that you're going up to the inn now about your bag?"
+
+"Yes."  He looked up at the sun and then round the parkland
+stretching about the house.  "Let me see; it's over in that
+direction, isn't it?"  He pointed southwards.  "Can we get to the
+village that way, or must we go by the road?"
+
+"I'll show you, my boy," said Bill.
+
+"Bill will show you.  The park reaches almost as far as the
+village.  Then I'll send the car round in about half an hour."
+
+"Thanks very much."
+
+Cayley nodded and turned to go into the house.  Antony took hold
+of Bill's arm and walked off with him in the opposite direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+Portrait of a Gentleman
+
+
+They walked in silence for a little, until they had left the
+house and gardens well behind them.  In front of them and to the
+right the park dipped and then rose slowly, shutting out the rest
+of the world.  A thick belt of trees on the left divided them
+from the main road.
+
+"Ever been here before?" said Antony suddenly.
+
+"Oh, rather.  Dozens of times."
+
+"I meant just here where we are now.  Or do you stay indoors and
+play billiards all the time?"
+
+"Oh Lord, no!"
+
+"Well, tennis and things.  So many people with beautiful parks
+never by any chance use them, and all the poor devils passing by
+on the dusty road think how lucky the owners are to have them,
+and imagine them doing all sorts of jolly things inside."  He
+pointed to the right.  "Ever been over there?"
+
+Bill laughed, as if a little ashamed.
+
+"Well, not very much.  I've often been along here, of course,
+because it's the short way to the village."
+
+"Yes ....  All right; now tell me something about Mark."
+
+"What sort of things?"
+
+"Well, never mind about his being your host, or about your being
+a perfect gentleman, or anything like that.  Cut out the Manners
+for Men, and tell me what you think of Mark, and how you like
+staying with him, and how many rows your little house-party has
+had this week, and how you get on with Cayley, and all the rest
+of it."
+
+Bill looked at him eagerly.
+
+"I say, are you being the complete detective?"
+
+"Well, I wanted a new profession," smiled the other.
+
+"What fun!  I mean," he corrected himself apologetically, "one
+oughtn't to say that, when there's a man dead in the house, and
+one's host--"  He broke off a little uncertainly, and then
+rounded off his period by saying again, "By Jove, what a rum show
+it is.  Good Lord!"
+
+"Well?" said Antony.  "Carry on, Mark"
+
+"What do I think of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Bill was silent, wondering how to put into words thoughts which
+had never formed themselves very definitely in his own mind.
+What did he think of Mark?  Seeing his hesitation, Antony said:
+
+"I ought to have warned you that nothing that you say will be
+taken down by the reporters, so you needn't bother about a split
+infinitive or two.  Talk about anything you like, how you like.
+Well, I'll give you a start.  Which do you enjoy more a week-end
+here or at the Barrington's, say?"
+
+"Well; of course, that would depend--"
+
+"Take it that she was there in both cases."
+
+"Ass," said Bill, putting an elbow into Antony's ribs.  "It's a
+little difficult to say," he went on.  "Of course they do you
+awfully well here."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I don't think I know any house where things are so comfortable.
+One's room--the food--drinks--cigars--the way everything's
+arranged:  All that sort of thing.  They look after you awfully
+well."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Yes."  He repeated it slowly to himself, as if it had given him
+a new idea: "They look after you awfully well.  Well, that's just
+what it is about Mark.  That's one of his little ways.
+Weaknesses.  Looking after you."
+
+"Arranging things for you?"
+
+"Yes.  Of course, it's a delightful house, and there's plenty to
+do, and opportunities for every game or sport that's ever been
+invented, and, as I say, one gets awfully well done; but with it
+all, Tony, there's a faint sort of feeling that well, that one is
+on parade, as it were.  You've got to do as you're told."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Well, Mark fancies himself rather at arranging things.  He
+arranges things, and it's understood that the guests fall in with
+the arrangement.  For instance, Betty--Miss Calladine--and I were
+going to play a single just before tea, the other day.  Tennis.
+She's frightfully hot stuff at tennis, and backed herself to take
+me on level.  I'm rather erratic, you know.  Mark saw us going
+out with our rackets and asked us what we were going to do.
+Well, he'd got up a little tournament for us after tea--handicaps
+all arranged by him, and everything ruled out neatly in red and
+black ink--prizes and all--quite decent ones, you know.  He'd had
+the lawn specially cut and marked for it.  Well, of course Betty
+and I wouldn't have spoilt the court, and we'd have been quite
+ready to play again after tea--I had to give her half-fifteen
+according to his handicap--but somehow--"  Bill stopped and
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It didn't quite fit in?"
+
+"No.  It spoilt the effect of his tournament.  Took the edge off
+it just a little, I suppose he felt.  So we didn't play."  He
+laughed, and added, "It would have been as much as our place was
+worth to have played."
+
+"Do you mean you wouldn't have been asked here again?"
+
+"Probably.  Well, I don't know.  Not for some time, anyway."
+
+"Really, Bill?"
+
+"Oh, rather!  He's a devil for taking offence.  That Miss Norris,
+did you see her? She's done for herself.  I don't mind betting
+what you like that she never comes here again."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Bill laughed to himself.
+
+"We were all in it, really--at least, Betty and I were.  There's
+supposed to be a ghost attached to the house.  Lady Anne Patten.
+Ever heard of her?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Mark told us about her at dinner one night.  He rather liked the
+idea of there being a ghost in his house, you know; except that
+he doesn't believe in ghosts.  I think he wanted all of us to
+believe in her, and yet he was annoyed with Betty and Mrs.
+Calladine for believing in ghosts at all.  Rum chap.  Well,
+anyhow, Miss Norris--she's an actress, some actress too--dressed
+up as the ghost and played the fool a bit.  And poor Mark was
+frightened out of his life. Just for a moment, you know."
+
+"What about the others?"
+
+"Well, Betty and I knew; in fact, I'd told her--Miss Norris I
+mean--not to be a silly ass.  Knowing Mark.  Mrs. Calladine
+wasn't there--Betty wouldn't let her be.  As for the Major, I
+don't believe anything would frighten him."
+
+"Where did the ghost appear?"
+
+"Down by the bowling-green.  That's supposed to be its haunt, you
+know.  We were all down there in the moonlight, pretending to
+wait for it.  Do you know the bowling-green?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I'll show it to you after dinner."
+
+"I wish you would .... Was Mark very angry afterwards?"
+
+"Oh, Lord, yes.  Sulked for a whole day.  Well, he's just like
+that."
+
+"Was he angry with all of you?"
+
+"Oh, yes sulky, you know."
+
+"This morning?"
+
+"Oh, no.  He got over it he generally does.  He's just like a
+child.  That's really it, Tony; he's like a child in some ways.
+As a matter of fact, he was unusually bucked with himself this
+morning.  And yesterday."
+
+"Yesterday?"
+
+"Rather.  We all said we'd never seen him in such form."
+
+"Is he generally in form?"
+
+"He's quite good company, you know, if you take him the right
+way.  He's rather vain and childish well, like I've been telling
+you and self-important; but quite amusing in his way, and--" Bill
+broke off suddenly.  "I say, you know, it really is the limit,
+talking about your host like this."
+
+"Don't think of him as your host.  Think of him as a suspected
+murderer with a warrant out against him."
+
+"Oh! but that's all rot, you know."
+
+"It's the fact, Bill."
+
+"Yes, but I mean, he didn't do it.  He wouldn't murder anybody.
+It's a funny thing to say, but well, he's not big enough for it.
+He's got his faults, like all of us, but they aren't on that
+scale."
+
+"One can kill anybody in a childish fit of temper."
+
+Bill grunted assent, but without prejudice to Mark.  "All the
+same," he said, "I can't believe it.  That he would do it
+deliberately, I mean."
+
+"Suppose it was an accident, as Cayley says, would he lose his
+head and run away?"
+
+Bill considered for a moment.
+
+"Yes, I really think he might, you know.  He nearly ran away when
+he saw the ghost.  Of course, that's different, rather."
+
+"Oh, I don't know.  In each case it's a question of obeying your
+instinct instead of your reason."
+
+They had left the open land and were following a path through the
+bordering trees.  Two abreast was uncomfortable, so Antony
+dropped behind, and further conversation was postponed until they
+were outside the boundary fence and in the high road.  The road
+sloped gently down to the village of Waldheim a few red-roofed
+cottages, and the grey tower of a church showing above the green.
+
+"Well, now," said Antony, as they stepped out more quickly, "what
+about Cayley?"
+
+"How do you mean, what about him?"
+
+"I want to see him.  I can see Mark perfectly, thanks to you,
+Bill. You were wonderful.  Now let's have Cayley's character.
+Cayley from within."
+
+Bill laughed in pleased embarrassment, and protested that he was
+not a blooming novelist.
+
+"Besides," he added, "Mark's easy.  Cayley's one of these heavy,
+quiet people, who might be thinking about anything.  Mark gives
+himself away ....  Ugly, black-jawed devil, isn't he?"
+
+"Some women like that type of ugliness."
+
+"Yes, that's true.  Between ourselves, I think there's one here
+who does.  Rather a pretty girl at Jallands" he waved his left
+hand "down that way."
+
+"What's Jallands?"
+
+"Well, I suppose it used to be a farm, belonging to a bloke
+called Jalland, but now it's a country cottage belonging to a
+widow called Norbury.  Mark and Cayley used to go there a good
+deal together.  Miss Norbury--the girl--has been here once or
+twice for tennis; seemed to prefer Cayley to the rest of us.  But
+of course he hadn't much time for that sort of thing."
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Walking about with a pretty girl and asking her if she's been to
+any theatres lately.  He nearly always had something to do."
+
+"Mark kept him busy?"
+
+"Yes.  Mark never seemed quite happy unless he had Cayley doing
+something for him.  He was quite lost and helpless without him.
+And, funnily enough, Cayley seemed lost without Mark."
+
+"He was fond of him?"
+
+"Yes, I should say so.  In a protective kind of way.  He'd sized
+Mark up, of course his vanity, his self-importance, his
+amateurishness and all the rest of it but he liked looking after
+him.  And he knew how to manage him."
+
+"Yes .... What sort of terms was he on with the guests--you and
+Miss Norris and all of them?"
+
+"Just polite and rather silent, you know.  Keeping himself to
+himself.  We didn't see so very much of him, except at meals.  We
+were here to enjoy ourselves, and well, he wasn't."
+
+"He wasn't there when the ghost walked?"
+
+"No.  I heard Mark calling for him when he went back to the
+house.  I expect Cayley stroked down his feathers a bit, and told
+him that girls will be girls ....--Hallo, here we are."
+
+They went into the inn, and while Bill made himself pleasant to
+the landlady, Antony went upstairs to his room.  It appeared that
+he had not very much packing to do, after all.  He returned his
+brushes to his bag, glanced sound to see that nothing else had
+been taken out, and went down again to settle his bill.  He had
+decided to keep on his room for a few days; partly to save the
+landlord and his wife the disappointment of losing a guest so
+suddenly, partly in case he found it undesirable later on to
+remain at the Red House.  For he was taking himself seriously as
+a detective; indeed, he took himself seriously (while getting all
+the fun out of it which was possible) at every new profession he
+adopted; and he felt that there might come a time after the
+inquest, say when he could not decently remain at the Red House
+as a guest, a friend of Bill's, enjoying the hospitality of Mark
+or Cayley, whichever was to be regarded as his host, without
+forfeiting his independent attitude towards the events of that
+afternoon.  At present he was staying in the house merely as a
+necessary witness, and, since he was there, Cayley could not
+object to him using his eyes; but if, after the inquest, it
+appeared that there was still work for a pair of independent and
+very keen eyes to do, then he must investigate, either with his
+host's approval or from beneath the roof of some other host; the
+landlord of 'The George,' for instance, who had no feelings in
+the matter.
+
+For of one thing Antony was certain.  Cayley knew more than he
+professed to know.  That is to say, he knew more than he wanted
+other people to know he knew.  Antony was one of the "other
+people"; if, therefore, he was for trying to find out what it was
+that Cayley knew, he could hardly expect Cayley's approval of his
+labours.  It would be 'The George,' then, for Antony after the
+inquest.
+
+What was the truth?  Not necessarily discreditable to Cayley,
+even though he were hiding something.  All that could be said
+against him at the moment was that he had gone the longest way
+round to get into the locked office  and that this did not fit in
+with what he had told the Inspector.  But it did fit in with the
+theory that he had been an accessory after the event, and that he
+wanted (while appearing to be in a hurry) to give his cousin as
+much time as possible in which to escape.  That might not be the
+true solution, but it was at least a workable one.  The theory
+which he had suggested to the Inspector was not.
+
+However, there would be a day or two before the inquest, in which
+Antony could consider all these matters from within The Red
+House. The car was at the door.  He got in with Bill, the
+landlord put his bag on the front seat next to the chauffeur, and
+they drove back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+"Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
+
+
+Anthony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house.
+The blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes
+for dinner, and at various stages of undress he would pause and
+gaze out of the window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes
+frowning, as he turned over in his mind all the strange things
+that he had seen that day.  He was sitting on his bed, in shirt
+and trousers, absently smoothing down his thick black hair with
+his brushes, when Bill shouted an "Hallo!" through the door, and
+came in.
+
+"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
+
+Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Where's Mark?" he said.
+
+"Mark?  You mean Cayley."
+
+Antony corrected himself with a little laugh.  "Yes, I mean
+Cayley.  Is he down?  I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill."  He got
+up from the bed and went on briskly with his dressing.  "Oh, by
+the way," said Bill, taking his place on the bed, "your idea
+about the keys is a wash-out."
+
+"Why, how do you mean?"
+
+"I went down just now and had a look at them.  We were asses not
+to have thought of it when we came in.  The library key is
+outside, but all the others are inside."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
+
+"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
+
+"Bother!  I hoped you'd forgotten.  Well, that knocks your theory
+on the head, doesn't it?"
+
+"I never had a theory.  I only said that if they were outside, it
+would probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in
+that case Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
+
+"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything.  Some were
+outside and some inside, and there you are.  It makes it much
+less exciting.  When you were talking about it on the lawn, I
+really got quite keen on the idea of the key being outside and
+Mark taking it in with him."
+
+"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
+transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black
+coat. "Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
+
+Cayley was waiting for them in the hall.  He made some polite
+inquiry as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell
+into a casual conversation about houses in general and The Red
+House in particular.
+
+"You were quite right about the keys," said Bill, during a pause.
+He was less able than the other two, perhaps because he was
+younger than they, to keep away from the subject which was
+uppermost in the minds of them all.
+
+"Keys?" said Cayley blankly.
+
+"We were wondering whether they were outside or inside."
+
+"Oh!  oh, yes!"  He looked slowly round the hall, at the
+different doors, and then smiled in a friendly way at Antony.
+"We both seem to have been right, Mr. Gillingham.  So we don't
+get much farther."
+
+"No."  He gave a shrug.  "I just wondered, you know.  I thought
+it was worth mentioning."
+
+"Oh, quite.  Not that you would have convinced me, you know.
+Just as Elsie's evidence doesn't convince me."
+
+"Elsie?" said Bill excitedly.  Antony looked inquiringly at him,
+wondering who Elsie was.
+
+"One of the housemaids," explained Cayley.  "You didn't hear what
+she told the Inspector?  Of course, as I told Birch, girls of
+that class make things up, but he seemed to think she was
+genuine."
+
+"What was it?" said Bill.
+
+Cayley told them of what Elsie had heard through the office door
+that afternoon.
+
+"You were in the library then, of course," said Antony, rather to
+himself than to the other.  "She might have gone through the hall
+without your hearing."
+
+"Oh, I've no doubt she was there, and heard voices.  Perhaps
+heard those very words.  But--"  He broke off, and then added
+impatiently, "It was accidental.  I know it was accidental.
+What's the good of talking as if Mark was a murderer?"  Dinner
+was announced at that moment, and as they went in, he added,
+"What's the good of talking about it at all, if it comes to
+that?"
+
+"What, indeed?" said Antony, and to Bill's great disappointment
+they talked of books and politics during the meal.
+
+Cayley made an excuse for leaving them as soon as their cigars
+were alight.  He had business to attend to, as was natural.  Bill
+would look after his friend.  Bill was only too willing.  He
+offered to beat Antony at billiards, to play him at piquet, to
+show him the garden by moonlight, or indeed to do anything else
+with him that he required.
+
+"Thank the Lord you're here," he said piously.  "I couldn't have
+stood it alone."
+
+"Let's go outside," suggested Antony.  "It's quite warm.
+Somewhere where we can sit down, right away from the house.  I
+want to talk to you."
+
+"Good man.  What about the bowling-green?"
+
+"Oh, you were going to show me that, anyhow, weren't you?  Is it
+somewhere where we can talk without being overheard?"
+
+"Rather.  The ideal place.  You'll see."
+
+They came out of the front door and followed the drive to the
+left.  Coming from Waldheim, Antony had approached the house that
+afternoon from the other side.  The way they were going now would
+take them out at the opposite end of the park, on the high road
+to Stanton, a country town some three miles away.  They passed by
+a gate and a gardener's lodge, which marked the limit of what
+auctioneers like to call "the ornamental grounds of the estate,"
+and then the open park was before them.
+
+"Sure we haven't missed it?" said Antony.  The park lay quietly
+in the moonlight on either side of the drive, wearing a little
+way ahead of them a deceptive air of smoothness which retreated
+always as they advanced.
+
+"Rum, isn't it?" said Bill.  "An absurd place for a bowling
+green, but I suppose it was always here."
+
+"Yes, but always where?  It's short enough for golf, perhaps,
+but--Hallo!"
+
+They had come to the place.  The road bent round to the right,
+but they kept straight on over a broad grass path for twenty
+yards, and there in front of them was the green.  A dry ditch,
+ten feet wide and six feet deep, surrounded it, except in the one
+place where the path went forward.  Two or three grass steps led
+down to the green, on which there was a long wooden beach for the
+benefit of spectators.
+
+"Yes, it hides itself very nicely," said Antony.  "Where do you
+keep the bowls?"
+
+"In a sort of summer house place.  Round here."
+
+They walked along the edge of the green until they came to it a
+low wooden bunk which had been built into one wall of the ditch.
+
+"H'm.  Jolly view."
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"Nobody sits there.  It's just for keeping things out of the
+rain."
+
+They finished their circuit of the green "Just in case anybody's
+in the ditch," said Antony and then sat down on the bench.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, "We are alone.  Fire ahead."
+
+Antony smoked thoughtfully for a little.  Then he took his pipe
+out of his mouth and turned to his friend.
+
+"Are you prepared to be the complete Watson?" he asked.
+
+"Watson?"
+
+"Do-you-follow-me-Watson; that one.  Are you prepared to have
+quite obvious things explained to you, to ask futile questions,
+to give me chances of scoring off you, to make brilliant
+discoveries of your own two or three days after I have made them
+myself all that kind of thing?  Because it all helps."
+
+"My dear Tony," said Bill delightedly, "need you ask?"  Antony
+said nothing, and Bill went on happily to himself, "I perceive
+from the strawberry-mark on your shirt-front that you had
+strawberries for dessert.  Holmes, you astonish me.  Tut, tut,
+you know my methods.  Where is the tobacco?  The tobacco is in
+the Persian slipper.  Can I leave my practice for a week?  I
+can."
+
+Antony smiled and went on smoking.  After waiting hopefully for a
+minute or two, Bill said in a firm voice:
+
+"Well then, Holmes, I feel bound to ask you if you have deduced
+anything.  Also whom do you suspect?"
+
+Antony began to talk.
+
+"Do you remember," he said, "one of Holmes's little scores over
+Watson about the number of steps up to the Baker Street lodging?
+Poor old Watson had been up and down them a thousand times, but
+he had never thought of counting them, whereas Holmes had counted
+them as a matter of course, and knew that there were seventeen.
+And that was supposed to be the difference between observation
+and non-observation.  Watson was crushed again, and Holmes
+appeared to him more amazing than ever.  Now, it always seemed to
+me that in that matter Holmes was the ass, and Watson the
+sensible person.  What on earth is the point of keeping in your
+head an unnecessary fact like that?  If you really want to know
+at any time the number of steps to your lodging, you can ring up
+your landlady and ask her.  I've been up and down the steps of
+the club a thousand times, but if you asked me to tell you at
+this moment how many steps there are I couldn't do it.  Could
+you?"
+
+"I certainly couldn't," said Bill.
+
+"But if you really wanted to know," said Antony casually, with a
+sudden change of voice, "I could find out for you without even
+bothering to ring up the hall-porter."
+
+Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club
+steps, but he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know
+how many they were.
+
+"Right," said Antony.  "I'll find out."
+
+He closed his eyes.
+
+"I'm walking up St James' Street," he said slowly.  "Now I've
+come to the club and I'm going past the smoking-room
+--windows-one-two three four.  Now I'm at the steps.  I turn in and
+begin going up them.  One-two-three-four-five-six, then a broad
+step; six-seven-eight-nine, another broad step; nine-ten-eleven.
+Eleven I'm inside.  Good morning, Rogers.  Fine day again."  With
+a little start he opened his eyes and came back again to his
+present surroundings.  He turned to Bill with a smile.  "Eleven,"
+he said.  "Count them the next time you're there.  Eleven and now
+I hope I shall forget it again."
+
+Bill was distinctly interested.
+
+"That's rather hot," he said.  "Expound."
+
+"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual
+eye, or something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an
+uncanny habit of recording things unconsciously.  You know that
+game where you look at a tray full of small objects for three
+minutes, and then turn away and try to make a list of them.  It
+means a devil of a lot of concentration for the ordinary person,
+if he wants to get his list complete, but in some odd way I
+manage to do it without concentration at all.  I mean that my
+eyes seem to do it without the brain consciously taking any part.
+I could look at the tray, for instance, and talk to you about
+golf at the same time, and still get my list right."
+
+"I should think that's rather a useful gift for an amateur
+detective. You ought to have gone into the profession before."
+
+"Well, it is rather useful.  It's rather surprising, you know, to
+a stranger.  Let's surprise Cayley with it, shall we?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, let's ask him--"  Antony stopped and looked at Bill
+comically, "let's ask him what he's going to do with the key of
+the office."
+
+For a moment Bill did not understand.
+
+"Key of the office?" he said vaguely.  "You don't mean--Tony!
+What do you mean?  Good God!  do you mean that Cayley--But what
+about Mark?"
+
+"I don't know where Mark is--that's another thing I want to know
+--but I'm quite certain that he hasn't got the key of the office
+with him.  Because Cayley's got it."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+Bill looked at him wonderingly.
+
+"I say," he said, almost pleadingly, "don't tell me that you can
+see into people's pockets and all that sort of thing as well."
+
+Antony laughed and denied it cheerfully.
+
+"Then how do you know?"
+
+"You're the perfect Watson, Bill.  You take to it quite
+naturally. Properly speaking, I oughtn't to explain till the last
+chapter, but I always think that that's so unfair.  So here goes.
+Of course, I don't really know that he's got it, but I do know
+that he had it.  I know that when I came on him this afternoon,
+he had just locked the door and put the key in his pocket."
+
+"You mean you saw him at the time, but that you've only just
+remembered it--reconstructed it in the way you were explaining
+just now?"
+
+"No.  I didn't see him.  But I did see something.  I saw the key
+of the billiard-room."
+
+"Where?
+
+"Outside the billiard-room door."
+
+"Outside?  But it was inside when we looked just now."
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Who put it there?"
+
+"Obviously Cayley."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Let's go back to this afternoon.  I don't remember noticing the
+billiard-room key at the time; I must have done so without
+knowing.  Probably when I saw Cayley banging at the door I may
+have wondered subconsciously whether the key of the room next to
+it would fit. Something like that, I daresay.  Well, when I was
+sitting out by myself on that seat just before you came along, I
+went over the whole scene in my mind, and I suddenly saw the
+billiard-room key there outside.  And I began to wonder if the
+office-key had been outside too.  When Cayley came up, I told you
+my idea and you were both interested.  But Cayley was just a
+shade too interested.  I daresay you didn't notice it, but he
+was."
+
+"By Jove!"
+
+"Well, of course that proved nothing; and the key business didn't
+really prove anything, because whatever side of the door the
+other keys were, Mark might have locked his own private room from
+the inside sometimes.  But I piled it on, and pretended that it
+was enormously important, and quite altered the case altogether,
+and having got Cayley thoroughly anxious about it, I told him
+that we should be well out of the way for the next hour or so,
+and that he would be alone in the house to do what he liked about
+it.  And, as I expected, he couldn't resist it.  He altered the
+keys and gave himself away entirely."
+
+"But the library key was still outside.  Why didn't he alter
+that?"
+
+"Because he's a clever devil.  For one thing, the Inspector had
+been in the library, and might possibly have noticed it already.
+And for another--" Antony hesitated.
+
+"What?" said Bill, after waiting for him to go on.
+
+"It's only guesswork.  But I fancy that Cayley was thoroughly
+upset about the key business.  He suddenly realized that he had
+been careless, and he hadn't got time to think it all over.  So
+he didn't want to commit himself definitely to the statement that
+the key was either outside or inside.  He wanted to leave it
+vague.  It was safest that way."
+
+"I see," said Bill slowly.
+
+But his mind was elsewhere.  He was wondering suddenly about
+Cayley. Cayley was just an ordinary man--like himself.  Bill had
+had little jokes with him sometimes; not that Cayley was much of
+a hand at joking.  Bill had helped him to sausages, played tennis
+with him, borrowed his tobacco, lent him a putter .... and here
+was Antony saying that he was what?  Well, not an ordinary man,
+anyway.  A man with a secret.  Perhaps a murderer.  No, not a
+murderer; not Cayley.  That was rot, anyway.  Why, they had
+played tennis together.
+
+"Now then, Watson," said Antony suddenly.  "It's time you said
+something."
+
+"I say, Tony, do you really mean it?"
+
+"Mean what?"
+
+"About Cayley."
+
+"I mean what I said, Bill.  No more."
+
+"Well, what does it amount to?"
+
+"Simply that Robert Ablett died in the office this afternoon, and
+that Cayley knows exactly how he died.  That's all.  It doesn't
+follow that Cayley killed him."
+
+"No.  No, of course it doesn't."  Bill gave a sigh of relief.
+"He's just shielding Mark, what?"
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, isn't that the simplest explanation?"
+
+"It's the simplest if you're a friend of Cayley and want to let
+him down lightly.  But then I'm not, you see."
+
+"Why isn't it simple, anyhow?"
+
+"Well, let's have the explanation then, and I'll undertake to
+give you a simpler one afterwards.  Go on.  Only remember the key
+is on the outside of the door to start with."
+
+"Yes; well, I don't mind that.  Mark goes in to see his brother,
+and they quarrel and all the rest of it, just as Cayley was
+saying.  Cayley hears the shot, and in order to give Mark time to
+get away, locks the door, puts the key in his pocket and pretends
+that Mark has locked the door, and that he can't get in.  How's
+that?"
+
+"Hopeless, Watson, hopeless."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How does Cayley know that it is Mark who has shot Robert, and
+not the other way round?"
+
+"Oh!" said Bill, rather upset.  "Yes."  He thought for a moment,
+"All right.  Say that Cayley has gone into the room first, and
+seen Robert on the ground."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, there you are."
+
+"And what does he say to Mark?  That it's a fine afternoon; and
+could he lend him a pocket-handkerchief?  Or does he ask him
+what's happened?"
+
+"Well, of course, I suppose he asks what happened," said Bill
+reluctantly.
+
+"And what does Mark say?"
+
+"Explains that the revolver went off accidentally during a
+struggle."
+
+"Whereupon Cayley shields him by doing what, Bill?  Encouraging
+him to do the damn silliest thing that any man could possibly do
+confess his guilt by running away!"
+
+"No, that's rather hopeless, isn't it?"  Bill thought again.
+"Well," he said reluctantly, "suppose Mark confessed that he'd
+murdered his brother?"
+
+"That's better, Bill.  Don't be afraid of getting away from the
+accident idea.  Well then, your new theory is this.  Mark
+confesses to Cayley that he shot Robert on purpose, and Cayley
+decides, even at the risk of committing perjury, and getting into
+trouble himself, to help Mark to escape.  Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Well then, I want to ask you two questions.  First, is it
+possible, as I said before dinner, that any man would commit such
+an idiotic murder--a murder that puts the rope so very tightly
+round his neck?  Secondly, if Cayley is prepared to perjure
+himself for Mark (as he has to, anyway, now), wouldn't it be
+simpler for him to say that he was in the office all the time,
+and that Robert's death was accidental?"
+
+Bill considered this carefully, and then nodded slowly again.
+
+"Yes, my simple explanation is a wash-out," he said.  "Now let's
+have yours."
+
+Antony did not answer him.  He had begun to think about something
+quite different.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+Possibilities of a Croquet Set
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill sharply.
+
+Antony looked round at him with raised eyebrows.
+
+"You've thought of something suddenly," said Bill.  "What is it?"
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"My dear Watson," he said, "you aren't supposed to be as clever
+as this."
+
+"Oh, you can't take me in!"
+
+"No ....  Well, I was wondering about this ghost of yours, Bill.
+It seems to me--"
+
+"Oh, that!"  Bill was profoundly disappointed.  "What on earth
+has the ghost got to do with it?"
+
+"I don't know," said Antony apologetically.  "I don't know what
+anything has got to do with it.  I was just wondering.  You
+shouldn't have brought me here if you hadn't wanted me to think
+about the ghost.  This is where she appeared, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes."  Bill was distinctly short about it.
+
+"How?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I said, 'How?'"
+
+"How?  How do ghosts appear?  I don't know.  They just appear."
+
+"Over four or five hundred yards of open park?"
+
+"Well, but she had to appear here, because this is where the
+original one--Lady Anne, you know--was supposed to walk."
+
+"Oh, never mind Lady Anne!  A real ghost can do anything.  But
+how did Miss Norris appear suddenly over five hundred yards of
+bare park?"
+
+Bill looked at Antony with open mouth.
+
+"I--I don't know," he stammered.  "We never thought of that."
+
+"You would have seen her long before, wouldn't you, if she had
+come the way we came?"
+
+"Of course we should."
+
+"And that would have spoilt it rather.  You would have had time
+to recognize her walk."
+
+Bill was interested now.
+
+"That's rather funny, you know, Tony.  We none of us thought of
+that."
+
+"You're sure she didn't come across the park when none of you
+were looking?"
+
+"Quite.  Because, you see, Betty and I were expecting her, and we
+kept looking round in case we saw her, so that we should all be
+playing with our backs to her."
+
+"You and Miss Calladine were playing together?"
+
+"I say, however do you know that?"
+
+"Brilliant deductive reasoning.  Well, then you suddenly saw
+her?"
+
+"Yes, she walked across that side of the lawn."  He indicated the
+opposite side, nearer to the house.
+
+"She couldn't have been hiding in the ditch?  Do you call it the
+moat, by the way?"
+
+"Mark does.  We don't among ourselves.  No, she couldn't.  Betty
+and I were here before the others, and walked round a bit.  We
+should have seen her."
+
+"Then she must have been hiding in the shed.  Or do you call it
+the summer-house?"
+
+"We had to go there for the bowls, of course.  She couldn't have
+been there."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"It's dashed funny," said Bill, after an interval for thought.
+"But it doesn't matter, does it?  It has nothing to do with
+Robert."
+
+"Hasn't it?"
+
+"I say, has it?" said Bill, getting excited again.
+
+"I don't know.  We don't know what has, or what hasn't.  But it
+has got something to do with Miss Norris.  And Miss Norris--"  He
+broke off suddenly.
+
+"What about her?"
+
+"Well, you're all in it in a kind of way.  And if something
+unaccountable happens to one of you a day or two before something
+unaccountable happens to the whole house, one is well,
+interested."  It was a good enough reason, but it wasn't the
+reason he had been on the point of giving.
+
+"I see.  Well?"
+
+Antony knocked out his pipe and got up slowly.
+
+"Well then, let's find the way from the house by which Miss
+Norris came."
+
+Bill jumped up eagerly.
+
+"By Jove!  Do you mean there's a secret passage?"
+
+"A secluded passage, anyway.  There must be."
+
+"I say, what fun!  I love secret passages.  Good Lord, and this
+afternoon I was playing golf just like an ordinary merchant!
+What a life!  Secret passages!"
+
+They made their way down into the ditch.  If an opening was to be
+found which led to the house, it would probably be on the house
+side of the green, and on the outside of the ditch.  The most
+obvious place at which to begin the search was the shed where the
+bowls were kept.  It was a tidy place as anything in Mark's
+establishment would be.  There were two boxes of croquet things,
+one of them with the lid open, as if the balls and mallets and,
+hoops (neatly enough put away, though) had been recently used; a
+box of bowls, a small lawn-mower, a roller and so forth.  A seat
+ran along the back of it, whereon the bowls-players could sit
+when it rained.
+
+Antony tapped the wall at the back.
+
+"This is where the passage ought to begin.  It doesn't sound very
+hollow, does it?"
+
+"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round
+with bent head, and tapping the other walls.  He was just too
+tall to stand upright in the shed.
+
+"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would
+save us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it.  Surely Mark
+didn't let you play croquet on his bowling-green?"  He pointed to
+the croquet things.
+
+"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather
+keen about it.  There's really nowhere else to play.  Personally
+I hate the game.  He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he
+liked calling it the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors
+with it."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love you on Mark," he said.  "You're priceless."
+
+He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and
+then suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention.  For a moment
+he stood listening, with his head on one side, holding up a
+finger to bid Bill listen too.
+
+"What is it?" whispered Bill.
+
+Antony waved him to silence, and remained listening.  Very
+quietly he went down on his knees, and listened again.  Then he
+put his ear to the floor.  He got up and dusted himself quickly,
+walked across to Bill and whispered in his ear:
+
+"Footsteps.  Somebody coming.  When I begin to talk, back me up."
+
+Bill nodded.  Antony gave him an encouraging pat on the back, and
+stepped firmly across to the box of bowls, whistling loudly to
+himself.  He took the bowls out, dropped one with a loud bang on
+the floor, said, "Oh, Lord!" and went on:
+
+"I say, Bill, I don't think I want to play bowls, after all."
+
+"Well, why did you say you did?" grumbled Bill.
+
+Antony flashed a smile of appreciation at him.
+
+"Well, I wanted to when I said I did, and now I don't want to."
+
+"Then what do you want to do?"
+
+"Talk."
+
+"Oh, right-o!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"There's a seat on the lawn I saw it.  Let's bring these things
+along in case we want to play, after all."
+
+"Right-o!" said Bill again.  He felt safe with that, not wishing
+to commit himself until he knew what he was wanted to say.
+
+As they went across the lawn, Antony dropped the bowls and took
+out his pipe.
+
+"Got a match?" he said loudly.
+
+As he bent his head over the match, he whispered, "There'll be
+somebody listening to us.  You take the Cayley view," and then
+went on in his ordinary voice, "I don't think much of your
+matches, Bill," and struck another.  They walked over to the seat
+and sat down.
+
+"What a heavenly night!" said Antony.
+
+"Ripping."
+
+"I wonder where that poor devil Mark is now."
+
+"It's a rum business."
+
+"You agree with Cayley that it was an accident?"
+
+"Yes.  You see, I know Mark."
+
+"H'm."  Antony produced a pencil and a piece of paper and began
+to write on his knee, but while he wrote, he talked.  He said
+that he thought Mark had shot his brother in a fit of anger, and
+that Cayley knew, or anyhow guessed, this and had tried to give
+his cousin a chance of getting away.
+
+"Mind you, I think he's right.  I think it's what any of us would
+do.  I shan't give it away, of course, but somehow there are one
+or two little things which make me think that Mark really did
+shoot his brother I mean other than accidentally."
+
+"Murdered him?"
+
+"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway.  I may be wrong.  Anyway, it's
+not my business."
+
+"But why do you think so?  Because of the keys?"
+
+"Oh, the keys are a wash-out.  Still, it was a brilliant idea of
+mine, Wasn't it?  And it would have been rather a score for me if
+they had all been outside."
+
+He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to
+Bill. In the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could
+easily be read:
+
+"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE.  AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN
+ROUND AS IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON
+TALKING."
+
+"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read,
+"but you'll see that I'm right."
+
+Bill looked up and nodded eagerly.  He had forgotten golf and
+Betty and all the other things which had made up his world
+lately.  This was the real thing.  This was life.  "Well," he
+began deliberately, "the whole point is that I know Mark.  Now,
+Mark--"
+
+But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into
+the ditch.  His intention was to crawl round it until the shed
+came in sight.  The footsteps which he had heard seemed to be
+underneath the shed; probably there was a trap-door of some kind
+in the floor. Whoever it was would have heard their voices, and
+would probably think it worth while to listen to what they were
+saying.  He might do this merely by opening the door a little
+without showing himself, in which case Antony would have found
+the entrance to the passage without any trouble to himself.  But
+when Bill turned his head and talked over the back of the seat,
+it was probable that the listener would find it necessary to put
+his head outside in order to hear, and then Antony would be able
+to discover who it was.  Moreover, if he should venture out of
+his hiding-place altogether and peep at them over the top of the
+bank, the fact that Bill was talking over the back of the seat
+would mislead the watcher into thinking that Antony was still
+there, sitting on the grass, no doubt, behind the seat, swinging
+his legs over the side of the ditch.
+
+He walked quickly but very silently along the half-length of the
+bowling-green to the first corner, passed cautiously round, and
+then went even more carefully along the width of it to the second
+corner.  He could hear Bill hard at it, arguing from his
+knowledge of Mark's character that this, that and the other must
+have happened, and he smiled appreciatively to himself.  Bill was
+a great conspirator worth a hundred Watsons.  As he approached
+the second corner he slowed down, and did the last few yards on
+hands and knees. Then, lying at full length, inch by inch his
+head went round the corner.
+
+The shed was two or three yards to his left, on the opposite side
+of the ditch.  From where he lay he could see almost entirely
+inside it. Everything seemed to be as they left it.  The
+bowls-box, the lawn-mower, the roller, the open croquet-box,
+the--
+
+"By Jove!" said Antony to himself, "that's neat."
+
+The lid of the other croquet-box was open, too.  Bill was turning
+round now; his voice became more difficult to hear.  "You see
+what I mean," he was saying.  "If Cayley--"
+
+And out of the second croquet-box came Cayley's black head.
+
+Antony wanted to shout his applause.  It was neat, devilish neat.
+For a moment he gazed, fascinated, at that wonderful new kind of
+croquet-ball which had appeared so dramatically out of the box,
+and then reluctantly wriggled himself back.  There was nothing to
+be gained by staying there, and a good deal to be lost, for Bill
+showed signs of running down.  As quickly as he could Antony
+hurried round the ditch and took up his place at the back of the
+seat.  Then he stood up with a yawn, stretched himself and said
+carelessly, "Well, don't worry yourself about it, Bill, old man.
+I daresay you're right.  You know Mark, and I don't; and that's
+the difference.  Shall we have a game or shall we go to bed?"
+
+Bill looked at him for inspiration, and, receiving it, said, "Oh,
+just let's have one game, shall we?"
+
+"Right you are," said Antony.
+
+But Bill was much too excited to take the game which followed
+very seriously.  Antony, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking
+of nothing but bowls.  He played with great deliberation for ten
+minutes, and then announced that he was going to bed.  Bill
+looked at him anxiously.
+
+"It's all right," laughed Antony.  "You can talk if you want to.
+Just let's put 'em away first, though."
+
+They made their way down to the shed, and while Bill was putting
+the bowls away, Antony tried the lid of the closed croquet-box.
+As he expected, it was locked.
+
+"Now then," said Bill, as they were walking back to the house
+again, "I'm simply bursting to know.  Who was it?"
+
+"Cayley."
+
+"Good Lord!  Where?"
+
+"Inside one of the croquet-boxes."
+
+"Don't be an ass."
+
+"It's quite true, Bill."  He told the other what he had seen.
+
+"But aren't we going to have a look at it?" asked Bill, in great
+disappointment.  "I'm longing to explore.  Aren't you?"
+
+"To-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow.  We shall see Cayley
+coming along this way directly.  Besides, I want to get in from
+the other end, if I can.  I doubt very much if we can do it this
+end without giving ourselves away.  Look, there's Cayley."
+
+They could see him coming along the drive towards them.  When
+they were a little closer, they waved to him and he waved back.
+
+"I wondered where you were," he said, as he got up to them.  "I
+rather thought you might be along this way.  What about bed?"
+
+"Bed it is," said Antony.
+
+"We've been playing bowls," added Bill, "and talking, and--and
+playing bowls.  Ripping night, isn't it?"
+
+But he left the rest of the conversation, as they wandered back
+to the house, to Antony.  He wanted to think.  There seemed to be
+no doubt now that Cayley was a villain.  Bill had never been
+familiar with a villain before.  It didn't seem quite fair of
+Cayley, somehow; he was taking rather a mean advantage of his
+friends.  Lot of funny people there were in the world funny
+people with secrets.  Look at Tony, that first time he had met
+him in a tobacconist's shop. Anybody would have thought he was a
+tobacconist's assistant.  And Cayley.  Anybody would have thought
+that Cayley was an ordinary decent sort of person.  And Mark.
+Dash it!  one could never be sure of anybody.  Now, Robert was
+different.  Everybody had always said that Robert was a shady
+fellow.
+
+But what on earth had Miss Norris got to do with it?  What had
+Miss Norris got to do with it?  This was a question which Antony
+had already asked himself that afternoon, and it seemed to him
+now that he had found the answer.  As he lay in bed that night he
+reassembled his ideas, and looked at them in the new light which
+the events of the evening threw upon the dark corners in his
+brain.
+
+Of course it was natural that Cayley should want to get rid of
+his guests as soon as the tragedy was discovered.  He would want
+this for their own sake as well as for his.  But he had been a
+little too quick about suggesting it, and about seeing the
+suggestion carried out.  They had been bustled off as soon as
+they could be packed. The suggestion that they were in his hands,
+to go or stay as he wished, could have been left safely to them.
+As it was, they had been given no alternative, and Miss Norris,
+who had proposed to catch an after-dinner train at the junction,
+in the obvious hope that she might have in this way a dramatic
+cross-examination at the hands of some keen-eyed detective, was
+encouraged tactfully, but quite firmly, to travel by the earlier
+train with the others. Antony had felt that Cayley, in the
+tragedy which had suddenly befallen the house, ought to have been
+equally indifferent to her presence or absence.  But he was not;
+and Antony assumed from this that Cayley was very much alive to
+the necessity for her absence.
+
+Why?
+
+Well, that question was not to be answered off-hand.  But the
+fact that it was so had made Antony interested in her; and it was
+for this reason that he had followed up so alertly Bill's casual
+mention of her in connection with the dressing-up business.  He
+felt that he wanted to know a little more about Miss Norris and
+the part she had played in the Red House circle.  By sheer luck,
+as it seemed to him, he had stumbled on the answer to his
+question.
+
+Miss Norris was hurried away because she knew about the secret
+passage.
+
+The passage, then, had something to do with the mystery of
+Robert's death.  Miss Norris had used it in order to bring off
+her dramatic appearance as the ghost.  Possibly she had
+discovered it for herself; possibly Mark had revealed it to her
+secretly one day, never guessing that she would make so unkind a
+use of it later on; possibly Cayley, having been let into the
+joke of the dressing-up, had shown her how she could make her
+appearance on the bowling-green even more mysterious and
+supernatural.  One way or another, she knew about the secret
+passage.  So she must be hurried away.
+
+Why?  Because if she stayed and talked, she might make some
+innocent mention of it.  And Cayley did not want any mention of
+it.
+
+Why, again?  Obviously because the passage, or even the mere
+knowledge of its existence, might provide a clue.
+
+"I wonder if Mark's hiding there," thought Antony; and he went to
+sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+Mr. Gillingham Talks Nonsense
+
+
+Antony came down in a very good humour to breakfast next morning,
+and found that his host was before him.  Cayley looked up from
+his letters and nodded.
+
+"Any word of Mr. Ablett--of Mark?" said Antony, as he poured out
+his coffee.
+
+"No.  The inspector wants to drag the lake this afternoon."
+
+"Oh!  Is there a lake?"
+
+There was just the flicker of a smile on Cayley's face, but it
+disappeared as quickly as it came.
+
+"Well, it's really a pond," he said, "but it was called 'the
+lake.'"
+
+"By Mark," thought Antony.  Aloud he said, "What do they expect
+to find?"
+
+"They think that Mark--"  He broke off and shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"May have drowned himself, knowing that he couldn't get away?
+And knowing that he had compromised himself by trying to get away
+at all?"
+
+"Yes; I suppose so," said Cayley slowly.
+
+"I should have thought he would have given himself more of a run
+for his money.  After all, he had a revolver.  If he was
+determined not to be taken alive, he could always have prevented
+that.  Couldn't he have caught a train to London before the
+police knew anything about it?"
+
+"He might just have managed it.  There was a train.  They would
+have noticed him at Waldheim, of course, but he might have
+managed it at Stanton.  He's not so well-known there, naturally.
+The inspector has been inquiring.  Nobody seems to have seen
+him."
+
+"There are sure to be people who will say they did, later on.
+There was never a missing man yet but a dozen people come forward
+who swear to have seen him at a dozen different places at the
+same time."
+
+Cayley smiled.
+
+"Yes.  That's true.  Anyhow, he wants to drag the pond first."
+He added dryly, "From what I've read of detective stories,
+inspectors always do want to drag the pond first."
+
+"Is it deep?"
+
+"Quite deep enough," said Cayley as he got up.  On his way to the
+door he stopped, and looked at Antony.  "I'm so sorry that we're
+keeping you here like this, but it will only be until to-morrow.
+The inquest is to-morrow afternoon.  Do amuse yourself how you
+like till then.  Beverley will look after you."
+
+"Thanks very much.  I shall really be quite all right."
+
+Antony went on with his breakfast.  Perhaps it was true that
+inspectors liked dragging ponds, but the question was, Did
+Cayleys like having them dragged?  Was Cayley anxious about it,
+or quite indifferent?  He certainly did not seem to be anxious,
+but he could hide his feelings very easily beneath that heavy,
+solid face, and it was not often that the real Cayley peeped out.
+Just a little too eager once or twice, perhaps, but there was
+nothing to be learnt from it this morning.  Perhaps he knew that
+the pond had no secrets to give up.  After all, inspectors were
+always dragging ponds.
+
+Bill came in noisily.
+
+Bill's face was an open book.  Excitement was written all over
+it.
+
+"Well," he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the
+meal, "what are we going to do this morning?"
+
+"Not talk so loudly, for one thing," said Antony.  Bill looked
+about him apprehensively.  Was Cayley under the table, for
+example?  After last night one never knew.
+
+"Is er--" He raised his eyebrows.
+
+"No.  But one doesn't want to shout.  One should modulate the
+voice, my dear William, while breathing gently from the hips.
+Thus one avoids those chest-notes which have betrayed many a
+secret.  In other words, pass the toast."
+
+"You seem bright this morning."
+
+"I am.  Very bright.  Cayley noticed it.  Cayley said, 'Were it
+not that I have other business, I would come gathering nuts and
+may with thee.  Fain would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and
+hop upon the little hills.  But the waters of Jordan encompass me
+and Inspector Birch tarries outside with his shrimping-net.  My
+friend William Beverley will attend thee anon.  Farewell, a long
+farewell to all--thy grape-nuts.'  He then left up-centre.  Enter
+W. Beverley, R."
+
+"Are you often like this at breakfast?"
+
+"Almost invariably.  Said he with his mouth full.  'Exit W.
+Beverley, L."
+
+"It's a touch of the sun, I suppose," said Bill, shaking his head
+sadly.
+
+"It's the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on
+an empty stomach.  Do you know anything about the stars, Mr.
+Beverley?  Do you know anything about Orion's Belt, for instance?
+And why isn't there a star called Beverley's Belt?  Or a novel?
+Said he masticating.  Re-enter W. Beverley through trap-door."
+
+"Talking about trap-doors--"
+
+"Don't," said Antony, getting up.  "Some talk of Alexander and
+some of Hercules, but nobody talks about--what's the Latin for
+trap-door?--Mensa a table; you might get it from that.  Well, Mr.
+Beverley,"--and he slapped him heartily on the back as he went
+past him--"I shall see you later.  Cayley says that you will
+amuse me, but so far you have not made me laugh once.  You must
+try and be more amusing when you have finished your breakfast.
+But don't hurry.  Let the upper mandibles have time to do the
+work."  With those words Mr. Gillingham then left the spacious
+apartment.
+
+Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air.  He
+did not know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the
+windows behind him; not listening, perhaps; possibly not even
+overhearing; but within sight of Antony, who was not going to
+take any risks.  So he went on with his breakfast, reflecting
+that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if he had dreamed
+only of the amazing things which had happened the day before.
+
+Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe.  It was occupied
+by a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her.
+Then he remembered.
+
+"Is it Elsie?" he asked, giving her a friendly smile.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said, shy but proud.  She had no doubts as to why
+it was that she had achieved such notoriety.
+
+"It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn't it?  I hope the
+inspector was nice to you?"
+
+"Yes, thank you, sir."
+
+"'It's my turn now.  You wait,'" murmured Antony to himself.
+
+"Yes, sir.  Nasty-like.  Meaning to say his chance had come."
+
+"I wonder."
+
+"Well, that's what I heard, sir.  Truly."
+
+Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded.
+
+"Yes.  I wonder.  I wonder why."
+
+"Why what, sir?"
+
+"Oh, lots of things, Elsie .... It was quite an accident your
+being outside just then?"
+
+Elsie blushed.  She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said
+about it.
+
+"Quite, sir.  In the general way I use the other stairs."
+
+"Of course."
+
+He had found his pipe and was about to go downstairs again when
+she stopped him.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, but will there be an inquest?"
+
+"Oh, yes.  To-morrow, I think."
+
+"Shall I have to give my evidence, sir?"
+
+"Of course.  There's nothing to be frightened of."
+
+"I did hear it, sir.  Truly."
+
+"Why, of course you did.  Who says you didn't?"
+
+"Some of the others, sir, Mrs. Stevens and all."
+
+"Oh, that's just because they're jealous," said Antony with a
+smile.
+
+He was glad to have spoken to her, because he had recognized at
+once the immense importance of her evidence.  To the Inspector no
+doubt it had seemed only of importance in that it had shown Mark
+to have adopted something of a threatening attitude towards his
+brother.  To Antony it had much more significance.  It was the
+only trustworthy evidence that Mark had been in the office at all
+that afternoon.
+
+For who saw Mark go into the office?  Only Cayley.  And if Cayley
+had been hiding the truth about the keys, why should he not be
+hiding the truth about Mark's entry into the office?  Obviously
+all Cayley's evidence went for nothing.  Some of it no doubt was
+true; but he was giving it, both truth and falsehood, with a
+purpose.  What the purpose was Antony did not know as yet; to
+shield Mark, to shield himself, even to betray Mark it might be
+any of these.  But since his evidence was given for his own ends,
+it was impossible that it could be treated as the evidence of an
+impartial and trustworthy onlooker.  Such, for instance, as Elsie
+appeared to be.
+
+Elsie's evidence, however, seemed to settle the point.  Mark had
+gone into the office to see his brother; Elsie had heard them
+both talking; and then Antony and Cayley had found the body of
+Robert .... and the Inspector was going to drag the pond.
+
+But certainly Elsie's evidence did not prove anything more than
+the mere presence of Mark in the room.  "It's my turn now; you
+wait."  That was not an immediate threat;--it was a threat for
+the future.  If Mark had shot his brother immediately afterwards
+it must have been an accident, the result of a struggle, say,
+provoked by that "nasty-like" tone of voice.  Nobody would say
+"You wait" to a man who was just going to be shot.  "You wait"
+meant "You wait, and see what's going to happen to you later on."
+The owner of the Red House had had enough of his brother's
+sponging, his brother's blackmail; now it was Mark's turn to get
+a bit of his own back.  Let Robert just wait a bit, and he would
+see.  The conversation which Elsie had overheard might have meant
+something like this.  It couldn't have meant murder.  Anyway not
+murder of Robert by Mark.
+
+"It's a funny business," thought Antony.  "The one obvious
+solution is so easy and yet so wrong.  And I've got a hundred
+things in my head, and I can't fit them together.  And this
+afternoon will make a hundred and one.  I mustn't forget this
+afternoon."
+
+He found Bill in the hall and proposed a stroll.  Bill was only
+too ready.   "Where do you want to go?" he asked.
+
+"I don't mind much.  Show me the park."
+
+"Righto."
+
+They walked out together.
+
+"Watson, old man," said Antony, as soon as they were away from
+the house, "you really mustn't talk so loudly indoors.  There was
+a gentleman outside, just behind you, all the time."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Bill, going pink.  "I'm awfully sorry.  So
+that's why you were talking such rot."
+
+"Partly, yes.  And partly because I do feel rather bright this
+morning.  We're going to have a busy day."
+
+"Are we really?  What are we going to do?"
+
+"They're going to drag the pond--beg its pardon, the lake.  Where
+is the lake?"
+
+"We're on the way to it now, if you'd like to see it."
+
+"We may as well look at it.  Do you haunt the lake much in the
+ordinary way?"
+
+"Oh, no, rather not.  There's nothing to do there."
+
+"You can't bathe?"
+
+"Well, I shouldn't care to.  Too dirty."
+
+"I see ....  This is the way we came yesterday, isn't it?  The
+way to the village?"
+
+"Yes.  We go off a bit to the right directly.  What are they
+dragging it for?"
+
+"Mark."
+
+"Oh, rot," said Bill uneasily.  He was silent for a little, and
+then, forgetting his uncomfortable thoughts in his sudden
+remembrance of the exciting times they were having, said eagerly,
+"I say, when are we going to look for that passage?"
+
+"We can't do very much while Cayley's in the house."
+
+"What about this afternoon when they're dragging the pond?  He's
+sure to be there."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"There's something I must do this afternoon," he said.  "Of
+course we might have time for both."
+
+"Has Cayley got to be out of the house for the other thing too?"
+
+"Well, I think he ought to be."
+
+"I say, is it anything rather exciting?"
+
+"I don't know.  It might be rather interesting.  I daresay I
+could do it at some other time, but I rather fancy it at three
+o'clock, somehow.  I've been specially keeping it back for then."
+
+"I say, what fun!  You do want me, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do.  Only, Bill don't talk about things inside the
+house, unless I begin.  There's a good Watson."
+
+"I won't.  I swear I won't."
+
+They had come to the pond--Mark's lake--and they walked silently
+round it.  When they had made the circle, Antony sat down on the
+grass, and relit his pipe.  Bill followed his example.
+
+"Well, Mark isn't there," said Antony.
+
+"No," said Bill.  "At least, I don't quite see why you know he
+isn't."
+
+"It isn't 'knowing,' it's 'guessing,'" said Antony rapidly.
+"It's much easier to shoot yourself than to drown yourself, and
+if Mark had wanted to shoot himself in the water, with some idea
+of not letting the body be found, he'd have put big stones in his
+pockets, and the only big stones are near the water's edge, and
+they would have left marks, and they haven't, and therefore he
+didn't, and oh, bother the pond; that can wait till this
+afternoon.  Bill, where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+"Well, that's what we've got to find out, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes.  You see, my idea is this."
+
+He explained his reasons for thinking that the secret of the
+passage was concerned in some way with the secret of Robert's
+death, and went on:
+
+"My theory is that Mark discovered the passage about a year ago
+the time when he began to get keen on croquet.  The passage came
+out into the floor of the shed, and probably it was Cayley's idea
+to put a croquet-box over the trap-door, so as to hide it more
+completely.  You know, when once you've discovered a secret
+yourself, it always seems as if it must be so obvious to
+everybody else.  I can imagine that Mark loved having this little
+secret all to himself and to Cayley, of course, but Cayley
+wouldn't count and they must have had great fun fixing it up, and
+making it more difficult for other people to find out.  Well
+then, when Miss Norris was going to dress-up, Cayley gave it
+away.  Probably he told her that she could never get down to the
+bowling-green without being discovered, and then perhaps showed
+that he knew there was one way in which she could do it, and she
+wormed the secret out of him somehow."
+
+"But this was two or three days before Robert turned up."
+
+"Exactly.  I am not suggesting that there was anything sinister
+about the passage in the first place.  It was just a little
+private bit of romance and adventure for Mark, three days ago.
+He didn't even know that Robert was coming.  But somehow the
+passage has been used since, in connection with Robert.  Perhaps
+Mark escaped that way; perhaps he's hiding there now.  And if so,
+then the only person who could give him away was Miss Norris.
+And she of course would only do it innocently not knowing that
+the passage had anything to do with it."
+
+"So it was safer to have her out of the way?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But, look here, Tony, why do you want to bother about this end
+of it?  We can always get in at the bowling-green end."
+
+"I know, but if we do that we shall have to do it openly.  It
+will mean breaking open the box, and letting Cayley know that
+we've done it.  You see, Bill, if we don't find anything out for
+ourselves in the next day or two, we've got to tell the police
+what we have found out, and then they can explore the passage for
+themselves.  But I don't want to do that yet."
+
+"Rather not.
+
+"So we've got to carry on secretly for a bit.  It's the only
+way."  He smiled and added, "And it's much more fun."
+
+"Rather!" Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Very well.  Where does the secret passage begin?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+The Reverend Theodore Ussher
+
+
+"There's one thing, which we have got to realize at once," said
+Antony, "and that is that if we don't find it easily, we shan't
+find it at all."
+
+"You mean that we shan't have time?"
+
+"Neither time nor opportunity.  Which is rather a consoling
+thought to a lazy person like me."
+
+"But it makes it much harder, if we can't really look properly."
+
+"Harder to find, yes, but so much easier to look.  For instance,
+the passage might begin in Cayley's bedroom.  Well, now we know
+that it doesn't."
+
+"We don't know anything of the sort," protested Bill.
+
+"We--know for the purposes of our search.  Obviously we can't go
+tailing into Cayley's bedroom and tapping his wardrobes; and
+obviously, therefore, if we are going to look for it at all, we
+must assume that it doesn't begin there."
+
+"Oh, I see."  Bill chewed a piece of grass thoughtfully.
+"Anyhow, it wouldn't begin on an upstairs floor, would it?"
+
+"Probably not.  Well, we're getting on."
+
+"You can wash out the kitchen and all that part of the house,"
+said Bill, after more thought.  "We can't go there."
+
+"Right.  And the cellars, if there are any."
+
+"Well, that doesn't leave us much."
+
+"No.  Of course it's only a hundred-to-one chance that we find
+it, but what we want to consider is which is the most likely
+place of the few places in which we can look safely."
+
+"All it amounts to," said Bill, "is the living-rooms downstairs
+dining-room, library, hall, billiard-room and the office rooms."
+
+"Yes, that's all."
+
+"Well, the office is the most likely, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes.  Except for one thing."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Well, it's on the wrong side of the house.  One would expect the
+passage to start from the nearest place to which it is going.
+Why make it longer by going under the house first?"
+
+"Yes, that's true.  Well, then, you think the dining-room or the
+library?"
+
+"Yes.  And the library for choice.  I mean for our choice.  There
+are always servants going into dining-rooms.  We shouldn't have
+much of a chance of exploring properly in there.  Besides,
+there's another thing to remember.  Mark has kept this a secret
+for a year.  Could he have kept it a secret in the dining-room?
+Could Miss Norris have got into the dining-room and used the
+secret door just after dinner without being seen?  It would have
+been much too risky."
+
+Bill got up eagerly.
+
+"Come along," he said, "let's try the library.  If Cayley comes
+in, we can always pretend we're choosing a book."
+
+Antony got up slowly, took his arm and walked back to the house
+with him.
+
+The library was worth going into, passages or no passages.
+Antony could never resist another person's bookshelves.  As soon
+as he went into the room, he found himself wandering round it to
+see what books the owner read, or (more likely) did not read, but
+kept for the air which they lent to the house.  Mark had prided
+himself on his library.  It was a mixed collection of books.
+Books which he had inherited both from his father and from his
+patron; books which he had bought because he was interested in
+them or, if not in them, in the authors to whom he wished to lend
+his patronage; books which he had ordered in beautifully bound
+editions, partly because they looked well on his shelves, lending
+a noble colour to his rooms, partly because no man of culture
+should ever be without them; old editions, new editions,
+expensive books, cheap books, a library in which everybody,
+whatever his taste, could be sure of finding something to suit
+him.
+
+"And which is your particular fancy, Bill?" said Antony, looking
+from one shelf to another.  "Or are you always playing
+billiards?"
+
+"I have a look at 'Badminton' sometimes," said Bill.
+
+"It's over in that corner there."  He waved a hand.
+
+"Over here?" said Antony, going to it.
+
+"Yes."  He corrected himself suddenly.--"Oh, no, it's not.  It's
+over there on the right now.  Mark had a grand re-arrangement of
+his library about a year ago.  It took him more than a week, he
+told us.  He's got such a frightful lot, hasn't he?"
+
+"Now that's very interesting," said Antony, and he sat down and
+filled his pipe again.
+
+There was indeed a "frightful lot" of books.  The four walls of
+the library were plastered with them from floor to ceiling, save
+only where the door and the two windows insisted on living their
+own life, even though an illiterate one.  To Bill it seemed the
+most hopeless room of any in which to look for a secret opening.
+
+"We shall have to take every blessed book down," he said, "before
+we can be certain that we haven't missed it."
+
+"Anyway," said Antony, "if we take them down one at a time,
+nobody can suspect us of sinister designs.  After all, what does
+one go into a library for, except to take books down?"
+
+"But there's such a frightful lot."
+
+Antony's pipe was now going satisfactorily, and he got up and
+walked leisurely to the end of the wall opposite the door.
+
+"Well, let's have a look," he said, "and see if they are so very
+frightful.  Hallo, here's your 'Badminton.'  You often read that,
+you say?"
+
+"If I read anything."
+
+"Yes."  He looked down and up the shelf.  "Sport and Travel
+chiefly. I like books of travel, don't you?"
+
+"They're pretty dull as a rule."
+
+"Well, anyhow, some people like them very much," said Antony,
+reproachfully.  He moved on to the next row of shelves.  "The
+Drama.  The Restoration dramatists.  You can have most of them.
+Still, as you well remark, many people seem to love them.  Shaw,
+Wilde, Robertson--I like reading plays, Bill.  There are not many
+people who do, but those who do are usually very keen.  Let us
+pass on."
+
+"I say, we haven't too much time," said Bill restlessly.
+
+"We haven't.  That's why we aren't wasting any.  Poetry.  Who
+reads poetry nowadays?  Bill, when did you last read 'Paradise
+Lost'?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I thought not.  And when did Miss Calladine last read 'The
+Excursion' aloud to you?"
+
+"As a matter of fact, Betty--Miss Calladine--happens to be jolly
+keen on what's the beggar's name?"
+
+"Never mind his name.  You have said quite enough.  We pass on."
+
+He moved on to the next shelf.
+
+"Biography.  Oh, lots of it.  I love biographies.  Are you a
+member of the Johnson Club?  I bet Mark is.  'Memories of Many
+Courts' I'm sure Mrs. Calladine reads that.  Anyway, biographies
+are just as interesting as most novels, so why linger?  We pass
+on."  He went to the next shelf, and then gave a sudden whistle.
+"Hallo, hallo!"
+
+"What's the matter?" said Bill rather peevishly.
+
+"Stand back there.  Keep the crowd back, Bill.  We are getting
+amongst it.  Sermons, as I live.  Sermons.  Was Mark's father a
+clergyman, or does Mark take to them naturally?"
+
+"His father was a parson, I believe.  Oh, yes, I know he was."
+
+"Ah, then these are Father's books.  'Half-Hours with the
+Infinite' I must order that from the library when I get back.
+'The Lost Sheep,' 'Jones on the Trinity,' 'The Epistles of St.
+Paul Explained.'  Oh, Bill, we're amongst it.  'The Narrow Way,
+being Sermons by the Rev. Theodore Ussher'  hal-LO!"
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"William, I am inspired.  Stand by."  He took down the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher's classic work, looked at it with a happy smile
+for a moment, and then gave it to Bill.
+
+"Here, hold Ussher for a bit."
+
+Bill took the book obediently.
+
+"No, give it me back.  Just go out into the hall, and see if you
+can hear Cayley anywhere.  Say 'Hallo' loudly, if you do."
+
+Bill went out quickly, listened, and came back.
+
+"It's all right."
+
+"Good."  He took the book out of its shelf again.  "Now then, you
+can hold Ussher.  Hold him in the left hand so.  With the right
+or dexter hand, grasp this shelf firmly so.  Now, when I say
+'Pull,' pull gradually.  Got that?"
+
+Bill nodded, his face alight with excitement.
+
+"Good."  Antony put his hand into the space left by the stout
+Ussher, and fingered the hack of the shelf.  "Pull," he said.
+
+Bill pulled.
+
+"Now just go on pulling like that.  I shall get it directly.  Not
+hard, you know, but just keeping up the strain."
+
+His fingers went at it again busily.
+
+And then suddenly the whole row of shelves, from top to bottom,
+swung gently open towards them.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, letting go of the shelf in his amazement.
+
+Antony pushed the shelves back, extracted Ussher from Bill's
+fingers, replaced him, and then, taking Bill by the arm, led him
+to the sofa and deposited him in it.  Standing in front of him,
+he bowed gravely.
+
+"Child's play, Watson," he said; "child's play."
+
+"How on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed happily and sat down on the sofa beside him.
+
+"You don't really want it explained," he said, smacking him on
+the knee; "you're just being Watsonish.  It's very nice of you,
+of course, and I appreciate it."
+
+"No, but really, Tony."
+
+"Oh, my dear Bill!"  He smoked silently for a little, and then
+went on, "It's what I was saying just now a secret is a secret
+until you have discovered it, and as soon as you have discovered
+it, you wonder why everybody else isn't discovering it, and how
+it could ever have been a secret at all.  This passage has been
+here for years, with an opening at one end into the library, and
+at the other end into the shed.  Then Mark discovered it, and
+immediately he felt that everybody else must discover it.  So he
+made the shed end more difficult by putting the croquet-box
+there, and this end more difficult by--" he stopped and looked at
+the other "by what, Bill?"
+
+But Bill was being Watsonish.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Obviously by re-arranging his books.  He happened to take out
+'The Life of Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat,' or whatever it
+was, and by the merest chance discovered the secret.  Naturally
+he felt that everybody else would be taking down 'The Life of
+Nelson' or 'Three Men in a Boat.'  Naturally he felt that the
+secret would be safer if nobody ever interfered with that shelf
+at all.  When you said that the books had been re-arranged a year
+ago just about the time the croquet-box came into existence; of
+course, I guessed why. So I looked about for the dullest books I
+could find, the books nobody ever read.  Obviously the collection
+of sermon-books of a mid-Victorian clergyman was the shelf we
+wanted."
+
+"Yes, I see.  But why were you so certain of the particular
+place?"
+
+"Well, he had to mark the particular place by some book.  I
+thought that the joke of putting 'The Narrow Way' just over the
+entrance to the passage might appeal to him.  Apparently it did."
+
+Bill nodded to himself thoughtfully several times.  "Yes, that's
+very neat," he said.  "You're a clever devil, Tony."
+
+Tony laughed.
+
+"You encourage me to think so, which is bad for me, but very
+delightful."
+
+"Well, come on, then," said Bill, and he got up, and held out a
+hand.
+
+"Come on where?"
+
+"To explore the passage, of course."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Why ever not?"
+
+"Well, what do you expect to find there?"
+
+"I don't know.  But you seemed to think that we might find
+something that would help."
+
+"Suppose we find Mark?" said Antony quietly.
+
+"I say, do you really think he's there?"
+
+"Suppose he is?"
+
+"Well, then, there we are."
+
+Antony walked over to the fireplace, knocked out the ashes of his
+pipe, and turned back to Bill.  He looked at him gravely without
+speaking.
+
+"What are you going to say to him?" he said at last.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Are you going to arrest him, or help him to escape?"
+
+"I--I--well, of course, I--" began Bill, stammering, and then
+ended lamely, "Well, I don't know."
+
+"Exactly.  We've got to make up our minds, haven't we?"
+
+Bill didn't answer.  Very much disturbed in his mind, he walked
+restlessly about the room, frowning to himself, stopping now and
+then at the newly discovered door and looking at it as if he were
+trying to learn what lay behind it.  Which side was he on, if it
+came to choosing sides--Mark's or the Law's?
+
+"You know, you can't just say, 'Oh er hallo!' to him," said
+Antony, breaking rather appropriately into his thoughts.
+
+Bill looked up at him with a start.
+
+"Nor," went on Antony, "can you say, 'This is my friend Mr.
+Gillingham, who is staying with you.  We were just going to have
+a game of bowls.'"
+
+"Yes, it's dashed difficult.  I don't know what to say.  I've
+been rather forgetting about Mark."  He wandered over to the
+window and looked out on to the lawns.  There was a gardener
+clipping the grass edges.  No reason why the lawn should be
+untidy just because the master of the house had disappeared.  It
+was going to be a hot day again.  Dash it, of course he had
+forgotten Mark.  How could he think of him as an escaped
+murderer, a fugitive from justice, when everything was going on
+just as it did yesterday, and the sun was shining just as it did
+when they all drove off to their golf, only twenty-four hours
+ago?  How could he help feeling that this was not real tragedy,
+but merely a jolly kind of detective game that he and Antony were
+playing?
+
+He turned back to his friend.
+
+"All the same," he said, "you wanted to find the passage, and now
+you've found it.  Aren't you going into it at all?"
+
+Antony took his arm.
+
+"Let's go outside again," he said.  "We can't go into it now,
+anyhow.  It's too risky, with Cayley about.  Bill, I feel like
+you--just a little bit frightened.  But what I'm frightened of I
+don't quite know.  Anyway, you want to go on with it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill firmly.  "We must."
+
+"Then we'll explore the passage this afternoon, if we get the
+chance.  And if we don't get the chance, then we'll try it
+to-night."
+
+They walked across the hall and out into the sunlight again.
+
+"Do you really think we might find Mark hiding there?" asked
+Bill.
+
+"It's possible," said Antony.  "Either Mark or--"  He pulled
+himself up quickly.  "No," he murmured to himself, "I won't let
+myself think that not yet, anyway.  It's too horrible."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A Shadow on the Wall
+
+
+In the twenty hours or so at his disposal Inspector Birch had
+been busy.  He had telegraphed to London a complete description
+of Mark in the brown flannel suit which he had last been seen
+wearing; he had made inquiries at Stanton as to whether anybody
+answering to this description had been seen leaving by the 4.20;
+and though the evidence which had been volunteered to him had
+been inconclusive, it made it possible that Mark had indeed
+caught that train, and had arrived in London before the police at
+the other end had been ready to receive him.  But the fact that
+it was market-day at Stanton, and that the little town would be
+more full than usual of visitors, made it less likely that either
+the departure of Mark by the 4.20, or the arrival of Robert by
+the 2.10 earlier in the afternoon, would have been particularly
+noticed.  As Antony had said to Cayley, there would always be
+somebody ready to hand the police a circumstantial story of the
+movements of any man in whom the police were interested.
+
+That Robert had come by the 2.10 seemed fairly certain.  To find
+out more about him in time for the inquest would be difficult.
+All that was known about him in the village where he and Mark had
+lived as boys bore out the evidence of Cayley.  He was an
+unsatisfactory son, and he had been hurried off to Australia; nor
+had he been seen since in the village.  Whether there were any
+more substantial grounds of  quarrel between the two brothers
+than that the younger one was at home and well-to-do, while the
+elder was poor and an exile, was not known, nor, as far as the
+inspector could see, was it likely to be known until Mark was
+captured.
+
+The discovery of Mark was all that mattered immediately.
+Dragging the pond might not help towards this, but it would
+certainly give the impression in court to-morrow that Inspector
+Birch was handling the case with zeal.  And if only the revolver
+with which the deed was done was brought to the surface, his
+trouble would be well repaid.  "Inspector Birch produces the
+weapon" would make an excellent headline in the local paper.
+
+He was feeling well-satisfied with himself, therefore, as he
+walked to the pond, where his men were waiting for him, and quite
+in the mood for a little pleasant talk with Mr. Gillingham and
+his friend, Mr. Beverley.  He gave them a cheerful "Good
+afternoon," and added with a smile, "Coming to help us?"
+
+"You don't really want us," said Antony, smiling back at him.
+
+"You can come if you like."
+
+Antony gave a little shudder.
+
+"You can tell me afterwards what you find," he said.  "By the
+way," he added, "I hope the landlord at 'the George' gave me a
+good character?"
+
+The Inspector looked at him quickly.
+
+"Now how on earth do you know anything about that?"
+
+Antony bowed to him gravely.
+
+"Because I guessed that you were a very efficient member of the
+Force."
+
+The inspector laughed.
+
+"Well, you came out all right, Mr. Gillingham.  You got a clean
+bill.  But I had to make certain about you.
+
+"Of course you did.  Well, I wish you luck.  But I don't think
+you'll find much at the pond.  It's rather out of the way, isn't
+it, for anybody running away?"
+
+"That's just what I told Mr. Cayley, when he called my attention
+to the pond.  However, we shan't do any harm by looking.  It's
+the unexpected that's the most likely in this sort of case."
+
+"You're quite right, Inspector.  Well, we mustn't keep you.  Good
+afternoon," and Antony smiled pleasantly at him.
+
+"Good afternoon, sir."
+
+"Good afternoon," said Bill.
+
+Antony stood looking after the Inspector as he strode off, silent
+for so long that Bill shook him by the arm at last, and asked him
+rather crossly what was the matter.
+
+Antony shook his head slowly from side to side.
+
+"I don't know; really I don't know.  It's too devilish what I
+keep thinking.  He can't be as cold-blooded as that."
+
+"Who?"
+
+Without answering, Antony led the way back to the garden-seat on
+which they had been sitting.  He sat there with his head in his
+hands.
+
+"Oh, I hope they find something," he murmured.  "Oh, I hope they
+do."
+
+"In the pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Anything, Bill; anything."
+
+Bill was annoyed.    "I say, Tony, this won't do.  You really
+mustn't be so damn mysterious.  What's happened to you suddenly?"
+
+Antony looked up at him in surprise.
+
+"Didn't you hear what he said?"
+
+"What, particularly?"
+
+"That it was Cayley's idea to drag the pond."
+
+"Oh!  Oh, I say!"  Bill was rather excited again.  "You mean that
+he's hidden something there?  Some false clue which he wants the
+police to find?"
+
+"I hope so," said Antony earnestly, "but I'm afraid--"  He
+stopped short.
+
+"Afraid of what?"
+
+"Afraid that he hasn't hidden anything there.  Afraid that--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"What's the safest place in which to hide anything very
+important?"
+
+"Somewhere where nobody will look."
+
+"There's a better place than that."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Somewhere where everybody has already looked."
+
+"By Jove!  You mean that as soon as the pond has been dragged,
+Cayley will hide something there?"
+
+"Yes, I'm afraid so."
+
+"But why afraid?"
+
+"Because I think that it must be something very important,
+something which couldn't easily be hidden anywhere else."
+
+"What?" asked Bill eagerly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, I'm not going to talk about it yet.  We can wait and see
+what the Inspector finds.  He may find something--I don't know
+what--something that Cayley has put there for him to find.  But
+if he doesn't, then it will be because Cayley is going to hide
+something there to-night."
+
+"What?" asked Bill again.
+
+"You will see what, Bill," said Antony; "because we shall be
+there."
+
+"Are we going to watch him?"
+
+"Yes, if the Inspector finds nothing."
+
+"That's good," said Bill.
+
+If it were a question of Cayley or the Law, he was quite decided
+as to which side he was taking.  Previous to the tragedy of
+yesterday he had got on well enough with both of the cousins,
+without being in the least intimate with either.  Indeed, of the
+two he preferred, perhaps, the silent, solid Cayley to the more
+volatile Mark.  Cayley's qualities, as they appeared to Bill, may
+have been chiefly negative; but even if this merit lay in the
+fact that he never exposed whatever weaknesses he may have had,
+this is an excellent quality in a fellow-guest (or, if you like,
+fellow-host) in a house where one is continually visiting.
+Mark's weaknesses, on the other hand, were very plain to the eye,
+and Bill had seen a good deal of them.
+
+Yet, though he had hesitated to define his position that morning
+in regard to Mark, he did not hesitate to place himself on the
+side of the Law against Cayley.  Mark, after all, had done him no
+harm, but Cayley had committed an unforgivable offence.  Cayley
+had listened secretly to a private conversation between himself
+and Tony.  Let Cayley hang, if the Law demanded it.
+
+Antony looked at his watch and stood up.
+
+"Come along," he said.  "It's time for that job I spoke about."
+
+"The passage?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"No; the thing which I said that I had to do this afternoon."
+
+"Oh, of course.  What is it?"
+
+Without saying anything, Antony led the way indoors to the
+office.
+
+It was three o'clock, and at three o'clock yesterday Antony and
+Cayley had found the body.  At a few minutes after three, he had
+been looking out of the window of the adjoining room, and had
+been surprised suddenly to find the door open and Cayley behind
+him.  He had vaguely wondered at the time why he had expected the
+door to be shut, but he had had no time then to worry the thing
+out, and he had promised himself to look into it at his leisure
+afterwards.  Possibly it meant nothing; possibly, if it meant
+anything, he could have found out its meaning by a visit to the
+office that morning.  But he had felt that he would be more
+likely to recapture the impressions of yesterday if he chose as
+far as possible the same conditions for his experiment.  So he
+had decided that three o'clock that afternoon should find him
+once more in the office.
+
+As he went into the room, followed by Bill, he felt it almost as
+a shock that there was now no body of Robert lying there between
+the two doors.  But there was a dark stain which showed where the
+dead man's head had been, and Antony knelt down over it, as he
+had knelt twenty-four hours before.
+
+"I want to go through it again," he said.  "You must be Cayley.
+Cayley said he would get some water.  I remember thinking that
+water wasn't much good to a dead man, and that probably he was
+only too glad to do anything rather than nothing.  He came back
+with a wet sponge and a handkerchief.  I suppose he got the
+handkerchief from the chest of drawers.  Wait a bit."
+
+He got up and went into the adjoining room; looked round it,
+pulled open a drawer or two, and, after shutting all the doors,
+came back to the office.
+
+"The sponge is there, and there are handkerchiefs in the top
+right-hand drawer.  Now then, Bill, just pretend you're Cayley.
+You've just said something about water, and you get up."
+
+Feeling that it was all a little uncanny, Bill, who had been
+kneeling beside his friend, got up and walked out.  Antony, as he
+had done on the previous day, looked up after him as he went.
+Bill turned into the room on the right, opened the drawer and got
+the handkerchief, damped the sponge and came back.
+
+"Well?" he said wonderingly.
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"It's all different," he said.  "For one thing, you made a devil
+of a noise and Cayley didn't."
+
+"Perhaps you weren't listening when Cayley went in?"
+
+"I wasn't.  But I should have heard him if I could have heard
+him, and I should have remembered afterwards."
+
+"Perhaps Cayley shut the door after him."
+
+"Wait!"
+
+He pressed his hand over his eyes and thought.  It wasn't
+anything which he had heard, but something which he had seen.  He
+tried desperately hard to see it again .... He saw Cayley getting
+up, opening the door from the office, leaving it open and walking
+into the passage, turning to the door on the right, opening it,
+going in, and then--What did his eyes see after that?  If they
+would only tell him again!
+
+Suddenly he jumped up, his face alight.  "Bill, I've got it!" he
+cried.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The shadow on the wall!  I was looking at the shadow on the
+wall. Oh, ass, and ten times ass!"
+
+Bill looked uncomprehendingly at him.  Antony took his arm and
+pointed to the wall of the passage.
+
+"Look at the sunlight on it," he said.  "That's because you've
+left the door of that room open.  The sun comes straight in
+through the windows.  Now, I'm going to shut the door.  Look!
+D'you see how the shadow moves across?  That's what I saw the
+shadow moving across as the door shut behind him.  Bill, go in
+and shut the door behind you quite naturally.  Quick!"
+
+Bill went out and Antony knelt, watching eagerly.
+
+"I thought so!" he cried.  "I knew it couldn't have been that."
+
+"What happened?" said Bill, coming back.
+
+"Just what you would expect.  The sunlight came, and the shadow
+moved back again all in one movement."
+
+"And what happened yesterday?"
+
+"The sunlight stayed there; and then the shadow came very slowly
+back, and there was no noise of the door being shut."
+
+Bill looked at him with startled eyes.
+
+"By Jove!  You mean that Cayley closed the door afterwards as an
+afterthought and very quietly, so that you couldn't hear?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Yes.  That explains why I was surprised afterwards when I went
+into the room to find the door open behind me.  You know how
+those doors with springs on them close?"
+
+"The sort which old gentlemen have to keep out draughts?"
+
+"Yes.  Just at first they hardly move at all, and then very, very
+slowly they swing to well, that was the way the shadow moved, and
+subconsciously I must have associated it with the movement of
+that sort of door.  By Jove!"  He got up, and dusted his knees.
+"Now, Bill, just to make sure, go in and close the door like
+that.  As an afterthought, you know; and very quietly, so that I
+don't hear the click of it."
+
+Bill did as he was told, and then put his head out eagerly to
+hear what had happened.
+
+"That was it," said Antony, with absolute conviction.  "That was
+just what I saw yesterday."  He came out of the office, and
+joined Bill in the little room.
+
+"And now," he said, "let's try and find out what it was that Mr.
+Cayley was doing in here, and why he had to be so very careful
+that his friend Mr. Gillingham didn't overhear him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+The Open Window
+
+
+Anthony's first thought was that Cayley had hidden something;
+something, perhaps, which he had found by the body, and but that
+was absurd.  In the time at his disposal, he could have done no
+more than put it away in a drawer, where it would be much more
+open to discovery by Antony than if he had kept it in his pocket.
+In any case he would have removed it by this time, and hidden it
+in some more secret place.  Besides, why in this case bother
+about shutting the door?
+
+Bill pulled open a drawer in the chest, and looked inside.
+
+"Is it any good going through these, do you think?" he asked.
+
+Antony looked over his shoulder.
+
+"Why did he keep clothes here at all?" he asked.  "Did he ever
+change down here?"
+
+"My dear Tony, he had more clothes than anybody in the world.  He
+just kept them here in case they might be useful, I expect.  When
+you and I go from London to the country we carry our clothes
+about with us.  Mark never did.  In his flat in London he had
+everything all over again which he has here.  It was a hobby with
+him, collecting clothes.  If he'd had half a dozen houses, they
+would all have been full of a complete gentleman's town and
+country outfit."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Of course, it might be useful sometimes, when he was busy in the
+next room, not to have to go upstairs for a handkerchief or a
+more comfortable coat."
+
+"I see.  Yes."  He was walking round the room as he answered, and
+he lifted the top of the linen basket which stood near the wash
+basin and glanced in.  "He seems to have come in here for a
+collar lately."
+
+Bill peered in.  There was one collar at the bottom of the
+basket.
+
+"Yes.  I daresay he would," he agreed.  "If he suddenly found
+that the one he was wearing was uncomfortable or a little bit
+dirty, or something.  He was very finicking."
+
+Antony leant over and picked it out.
+
+"It must have been uncomfortable this time," he said, after
+examining it carefully.  "It couldn't very well be cleaner."  He
+dropped it back again.  "Anyway, he did come in here sometimes?"
+
+"Oh, yes, rather."
+
+"Yes, but what did Cayley come in for so secretly?"
+
+"What did he want to shut the door for?" said Bill.  "That's what
+I don't understand.  You couldn't have seen him, anyhow."
+
+"No.  So it follows that I might have heard him.  He was going to
+do something which he didn't want me to hear."
+
+"By Jove, that's it!" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Yes; but what?"
+
+Bill frowned hopefully to himself, but no inspiration came.
+
+"Well, let's have some air, anyway," he said at last, exhausted
+by the effort, and he went to the window, opened it, and looked
+out.  Then, struck by an idea, he turned back to Antony and said,
+"Do you think I had better go up to the pond to make sure that
+they're still at it?  Because--"
+
+He broke off suddenly at the sight of Antony's face.
+
+"Oh, idiot, idiot!" Antony cried.  "Oh, most super-excellent of
+Watsons!  Oh, you lamb, you blessing!  Oh, Gillingham, you
+incomparable ass!"
+
+"What on earth--"
+
+"The window, the window!" cried Antony, pointing to it.
+
+Bill turned back to the window, expecting it to say something.
+As it said nothing, he looked at Antony again.
+
+"He was opening the window!" cried Antony.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Cayley, of course."  Very gravely and slowly he expounded.  "He
+came in here in order to open the window.  He shut the door so
+that I shouldn't hear him open the window.  He opened the window.
+I came in here and found the window open.  I said, 'This window
+is open.  My amazing powers of analysis tell me that the murderer
+must have escaped by this window.'  'Oh,' said Cayley, raising
+his eyebrows. 'Well,' said he, 'I suppose you must be right.'
+Said I proudly, 'I am.  For the window is open,' I said.  Oh, you
+incomparable ass!"
+
+He understood now.  It explained so much that had been puzzling
+him.
+
+He tried to put himself in Cayley's place--Cayley, when Antony
+had first discovered him, hammering at the door and crying, "Let
+me in!"  Whatever had happened inside the office, whoever had
+killed Robert, Cayley knew all about it, and knew that Mark was
+not inside, and had not escaped by the window.  But it was
+necessary to Cayley's plans--to Mark's plans if they were acting
+in concert--that he should be thought so to have escaped.  At
+some time, then, while he was hammering (the key in his pocket)
+at the locked door, he must suddenly have remembered--with what a
+shock!--that a mistake had been made.  A window had not been left
+open!
+
+Probably it would just have been a horrible doubt at first.  Was
+the office window open?  Surely it was open!  Was it? ....  Would
+he have time now to unlock the door, slip in, open the French
+windows and slip out again?  No.  At any moment the servants
+might come. It was too risky.  Fatal, if he were discovered.  But
+servants were stupid.  He could get the windows safely open while
+they were crowding round the body.  They wouldn't notice.  He
+could do it somehow.
+
+And then Antony's sudden appearance!  Here was a complication.
+And Antony suggesting that they should try the window!  Why, the
+window was just what he wanted to avoid.  No wonder he had seemed
+dazed at first.
+
+Ah, and here at last was the explanation why they had gone the
+longest way round and yet run.  It was Cayley's only chance of
+getting a start on Antony, of getting to the windows first, of
+working them open somehow before Antony caught him up.  Even if
+that were impossible, he must get there first, just to make sure.
+Perhaps they were open.  He must get away from Antony and see.
+And if they were shut, hopelessly shut, then he must have a
+moment to himself, a moment in which to think of some other plan,
+and avoid the ruin which seemed so suddenly to be threatening.
+
+So he had run.  But Antony had kept up with him.  They had broken
+in the window together, and gone into the office.  But Cayley was
+not done yet.  There was the dressing-room window!  But quietly,
+quietly.  Antony mustn't hear.
+
+And Antony didn't hear.  Indeed, he had played up to Cayley
+splendidly.  Not only had he called attention to the open window,
+but he had carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this
+particular window in preference to the office window.  And Cayley
+had agreed that probably that was the reason.  How he must have
+chuckled to himself!  But he was still a little afraid.  Afraid
+that Antony would examine the shrubbery.  Why?  Obviously because
+there was no trace of anyone having broken through the shrubbery.
+No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces since, and had
+helped the Inspector to find them.  Had he even gone as far as
+footmarks in Mark's shoes?  But the ground was very hard.
+Perhaps footmarks were not necessary.  Antony smiled as he
+thought of the big Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper
+little Mark's shoes.  Cayley must have been glad that footmarks
+were not necessary.
+
+No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig
+or two.  But quietly, quietly.  Antony mustn't hear.  And Antony
+had not heard ....  But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
+
+They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and
+Bill was listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of
+yesterday's happenings.  It fitted in, it explained things, but
+it did not get them any further.  It only gave them another
+mystery to solve.
+
+"What's that?" said Antony.
+
+"Mark.  Where's Mark?  If he never went into the office at all,
+then where is he now?"
+
+"I don't say that he never went into the office.  In fact, he
+must have gone.  Elsie heard him."  He stopped and repeated
+slowly, "She heard him, at least she says she did.  But if he was
+there, he came out again by the door."
+
+"Well, but where does that lead you?"
+
+"Where it led Mark.  The passage."
+
+"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?"  Antony
+was silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an
+effort he came out of his thoughts and answered him.
+
+"I don't know.  But look here.  Here is a possible explanation.
+I don't know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm
+rather frightened.  Frightened of what may have happened, of what
+may be going to happen.  However, here is an explanation.  See if
+you can find any fault with it."
+
+With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he
+lay back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky
+above him, and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday
+being enacted over again, he described them slowly to Bill as
+they happened.
+
+"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert.  Call it an
+accident; probably it was.  Mark would say it was, anyhow.  He is
+in a panic, naturally.  But he doesn't lock the door and run
+away.  For one thing, the key is on the outside of the door; for
+another, he is not, quite such a fool as that.  But he is in a
+horrible position.  He is known to be on bad terms with his
+brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him, which
+may possibly have been overheard.  What is he to do?  He does the
+natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
+circumstances.  He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable
+Cayley.
+
+"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley
+will tell him what to do.  He opens the door just as Cayley is
+coming to see what is the matter.  He explains rapidly.  'What's
+to be done, Cay?  what's to be done?  It was an accident.  I
+swear it was an accident.  He threatened me.  He would have shot
+me if I hadn't.  Think of something, quick!'
+
+"Cayley has thought of something.  'Leave it to me,' he says.
+'You clear out altogether.  I shot him, if you like.  I'll do all
+the explaining.  Get away.  Hide.  Nobody saw you go in.  Into
+the passage, quick.  I'll come to you there as soon as I can.'
+
+"Good Cayley.  Faithful Cayley!  Mark's courage comes back.
+Cayley will explain all right.  Cayley will tell the servants
+that it was an accident.  He will ring up the police.  Nobody
+will suspect Cayley--Cayley has no quarrel with Robert.  And then
+Cayley will come into the passage and tell him that it is all
+right, and Mark will go out by the other end, and saunter slowly
+back to the house.  He will be told the news by one of the
+servants.  Robert accidentally shot?  Good Heavens!
+
+"So, greatly reassured, Mark goes into the library.  And Cayley
+goes to the door of the office .... and locks it.  And then he
+bangs on the door and shouts, 'Let me in!'"
+
+Antony was silent.  Bill looked at him and shook his head.
+
+"Yes, Tony, but that doesn't make sense.  What's the point of
+Cayley behaving like that?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.
+
+"And what has happened to Mark since?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders again.
+
+"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said
+Bill.
+
+"You're ready to go?"
+
+"Quite," said Bill, surprised.
+
+"You're quite ready for what we may find?"
+
+"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."
+
+"I know I am."  He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm
+being an ass, just a melodramatic ass.  Well, I hope I am."  He
+looked at his watch.
+
+"It's safe, is it?  They're still busy at the pond?"
+
+"We'd better make certain.  Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill--one
+of those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly?  I mean,
+could you get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is
+still there, without letting him see you?"
+
+"Rather!" He got up eagerly.  "You wait."
+
+Antony's head shot up suddenly.  "Why, that was what Mark said,"
+he cried.
+
+"Mark?"
+
+"Yes.  What Elsie heard him say."
+
+"Oh, that."
+
+"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill?  She did
+hear him?"
+
+"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean."
+
+"Oh?"
+
+"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain,
+but--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything."
+He rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous,
+high-pitched voice, and then laughed, and added in his natural
+voice, "I say, that was really rather good."
+
+Antony nodded quickly.  "That was like it?" he said.
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Yes."  He got up and squeezed Bill's arm.  "Well just go and see
+about Cayley, and then we'll get moving.  I shall be in the
+library."
+
+"Right."
+
+Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond.  This
+was glorious fun; this was life.  The immediate programme could
+hardly be bettered.  First of all he was going to stalk Cayley.
+There was a little copse above the level of the pond, and about a
+hundred yards away from it.  He would come into this from the
+back, creep cautiously through it, taking care that no twigs
+cracked, and then, drawing himself on his stomach to the edge,
+peer down upon the scene below him.  People were always doing
+that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
+hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it
+himself.  What fun!
+
+And then, when he had got back unobserved to the house and
+reported to Antony, they were going to explore the secret
+passage!  Again, what fun!  Unfortunately there seemed to be no
+chance of buried treasure, but there might be buried clues.  Even
+if you found nothing, you couldn't get away from the fact that a
+secret passage was a secret passage, and anything might happen in
+it.  But even that wasn't the end of this exciting day.  They
+were going to watch the pond that night; they were going to watch
+Cayley under the moonlight, watch him as he threw into the
+silence of the pond what?  The revolver?  Well, anyhow, they were
+going to watch him.  What fun!
+
+To Antony, who was older and who realized into what deep waters
+they were getting, it did not seem fun.  But it was amazingly
+interesting.  He saw so much, and yet somehow it was all out of
+focus.  It was like looking at an opal, and discovering with
+every movement of it some new colour, some new gleam of light
+reflected, and yet never really seeing the opal as a whole.  He
+was too near it, or too far away; he strained his eyes and he
+relaxed his eyes; it was no good.  His brain could not get hold
+of it.
+
+But there were moments when he almost had it .... and then turned
+away from it.  He had seen more of life than Bill, but he had
+never seen murder before, and this which was in his mind now, and
+to which he was afraid to listen, was not just the hot-blooded
+killing which any man may come to if he lose control.  It was
+something much more horrible.  Too horrible to be true.  Then let
+him look again for the truth.  He looked again but it was all out
+of focus.
+
+"I will not look again," he said aloud, as he began to walk
+towards the house.  "Not yet, anyway."  He would go on collecting
+facts and impressions.  Perhaps the one fact would come along, by
+itself which would make everything clear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Mr. Beverley Qualifies for the Stage
+
+
+Bill had come back, and had reported, rather breathless, that
+Cayley was still at the pond.
+
+"But I don't think they're getting up much except mud," he said.
+"I ran most of the way back so as to give us as much time as
+possible."
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"Well, come along, then," he said.  "The sooner, the quicker."
+
+They stood in front of the row of sermons.  Antony took down the
+Reverend Theodore Ussher's famous volume, and felt for the
+spring.  Bill pulled.  The shelves swung open towards them.
+
+"By Jove!" said Bill, "it is a narrow way."
+
+There was an opening about a yard square in front of them, which
+had something the look of a brick fireplace, a fireplace raised
+about two feet from the ground.  But, save for one row of bricks
+in front, the floor of it was emptiness.  Antony took a torch
+from his pocket and flashed it down into the blackness.
+
+"Look," he whispered to the eager Bill.  "The steps begin down
+there.  Six feet down."
+
+He flashed his torch up again.  There was a handhold of iron, a
+sort of large iron staple, in the bricks in front of them.
+
+"You swing off from there," said Bill.  "At least, I suppose you
+do. I wonder how Ruth Norris liked doing it."
+
+"Cayley helped her, I should think .... It's funny."
+
+"Shall I go first?" asked Bill, obviously longing to do so.
+Antony shook his head with a smile.
+
+"I think I will, if you don't mind very much, Bill.  Just in
+case."
+
+"In case of what?"
+
+"Well in case."
+
+Bill, had to be content with that, but he was too much excited to
+wonder what Antony meant.
+
+"Righto," he said.  "Go on."
+
+"Well, we'll just make sure we can get back again, first.  It
+really wouldn't be fair on the Inspector if we got stuck down
+here for the rest of our lives.  He's got enough to do trying to
+find Mark, but if he has to find you and me as well--"
+
+"We can always get out at the other end."
+
+"Well, we're not certain yet.  I think I'd better just go down
+and back.  I promise faithfully not to explore."
+
+"Right you are."
+
+Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and
+sat there for a moment, his legs dangling.  He flashed his torch
+into the darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps
+began; then returned it to his pocket, seized the staple in front
+of him and swung himself down.  His feet touched the steps
+beneath him, and he let go.
+
+"Is it all right?" said Bill anxiously.
+
+"All right.  I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and
+back.  Stay there."
+
+The light shone down by his feet.  His head began to disappear.
+For a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still
+see faint splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain
+footsteps; for a little longer he could fancy that he saw and
+heard them; then he was alone ....
+
+Well, not quite alone.  There was a sudden voice in the hall
+outside.
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, turning round with a start, "Cayley!"
+
+If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough
+in action.  Thought was not demanded now.  To close the secret
+door safely but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in
+the right places, to move away to another row of shelves so as to
+be discovered deep in "Badminton" or "Baedeker" or whomever the
+kind gods should send to his aid the difficulty was not to decide
+what to do, but to do all this in five seconds rather than in
+six.
+
+"Ah, there you are," said Cayley from the doorway.
+
+"Hallo!" said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth
+volume of "The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge."  "Have
+they finished?"
+
+"Finished what?"
+
+"The pond," said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on
+such a fine afternoon.  Desperately he tried to think of a good
+reason .... verifying a quotation--an argument with Antony--that
+would do.  But what quotation?
+
+"Oh, no.  They're still at it.  Where's Gillingham?"
+
+'The Ancient Mariner'--water, water, everywhere--or was that
+something else?  And where was Gillingham?  Water, water
+everywhere . . .
+
+"Tony?  Oh, he's about somewhere.  We're just going down to the
+village.  They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?"
+
+"No.  But they like doing it.  Something off their minds when
+they can say they've done it."
+
+Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said "Yes," and went back
+to it again.  He was just getting to the place.
+
+"What's the book?" said Cayley, coming up to him.  Out of the
+corner of his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came.
+Bill saw that glance and wondered.  Was there anything there to
+give away the secret?
+
+"I was just looking up a quotation," he drawled.  "Tony and I had
+a bet about it.  You know that thing about--er water, water
+everywhere, and--er--not a drop to drink."  (But what on earth,
+he wondered to himself, were they betting about?)
+
+"'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate."
+
+Bill looked at him in surprise.  Then a happy smile came on his
+face.
+
+"Quite sure?" he said.
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Then you've saved me a lot of trouble.  That's, what the bet was
+about."  He closed the book with a slam, put it back in its
+shelf, and began to feel for his pipe and tobacco.  "I was a fool
+to bet with Tony," he added.  "He always knows that sort of
+thing."
+
+So far, so good.  But here was Cayley still in the library, and
+there was Antony, all unsuspecting, in the passage.  When Antony
+came back he would not be surprised to find the door closed,
+because the whole object of his going had been to see if he could
+open it easily from the inside.  At any moment, then, the
+bookshelf might swing back and show Antony's head in the gap.  A
+nice surprise for Cayley!
+
+"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match.  He
+pulled vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer,
+hoping to hide his anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.
+
+"I've got to go into Stanton."
+
+Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which
+covered also a heartfelt sigh of relief.
+
+"Oh, a pity.  You're driving, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes.  The car will be here directly.  There's a letter I must
+write first."  He sat down at a writing table, and took out a
+sheet of notepaper.
+
+He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it.  At
+any moment now it might open.
+
+Bill dropped into a chair and thought.  Antony must be warned.
+Obviously.  But how?  How did one signal to anybody?  By code.
+Morse code.  Did Antony know it?  Did Bill know it himself, if it
+came to that?  He had picked up a bit in the Army not enough to
+send a message, of course.  But a message was impossible, anyhow;
+Cayley would hear him tapping it out.  It wouldn't do to send
+more than a single letter.  What letters did he know?  And what
+letter would convey anything to Antony? ....  He pulled at his
+pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend
+Theodore Ussher in his shelf.  What letter?
+
+C for Cayley.  Would Antony understand?  Probably not, but it was
+just worth trying.  What was C?  Long, short, long, short.
+Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.  Was that right?  C  yes, that was C.  He
+was sure of that.  C.  Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.
+
+Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
+vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man
+(as it might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him
+away for a walk or something.  He wandered across to the books at
+the back of Cayley, and began to tap absent-mindedly on the
+shelves, as he looked at the titles.  Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.  Not
+that it was much like that at first; he couldn't get the rhythm
+of it .... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.  That was better.  He was
+back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now.  Antony would begin to hear
+him soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a
+man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read
+on the lawn.  Would Antony hear?  One always heard the man in the
+next flat knocking out his pipe.  Would Antony understand?
+Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.  C. for Cayley, Antony.  Cayley's here.
+For God's sake, wait.
+
+"Good Lord!  Sermons!" said Bill, with a loud laugh.
+(Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy) "Ever read 'em, Cayley?"
+
+"What?" Cayley looked up suddenly.  Bill's back moved slowly
+along, his fingers beating a tattoo on the shelves as he walked.
+
+"Er no," said Cayley, with a little laugh.  An awkward,
+uncomfortable little laugh, it seemed to Bill.
+
+"Nor do I."  He was past the sermons now past the secret door but
+still tapping in the same aimless way.
+
+"Oh, for God's sake sit down," burst out Cayley.  "Or go outside
+if you want to walk about."
+
+Bill turned round in astonishment.
+
+"Hallo, what's the matter?"
+
+Cayley was slightly ashamed of his outburst.
+
+"Sorry, Bill," he apologized.  "My nerves are on edge.  Your
+constant tapping and fidgeting about--"
+
+"Tapping?" said Bill with an air of complete surprise.
+
+"Tapping on the shelves, and humming.  Sorry.  It got on my
+nerves."
+
+"My dear old chap, I'm awfully sorry.  I'll go out in the hall."
+
+"It's all right," said Cayley, and went on with his letter.  Bill
+sat down in his chair again.  Had Antony understood?  Well,
+anyhow, there was nothing to do now but wait for Cayley to go.
+"And if you ask me," said Bill to himself, much pleased, "I ought
+to be on the stage.  That's where I ought to be.  The complete
+actor."
+
+A minute, two minutes, three minutes .... five minutes. It was
+safe now.  Antony had guessed.
+
+"Is the car there?" asked Cayley, as he sealed up his letter.
+
+Bill strolled into the hall, called back "Yes," and went out to
+talk to the chauffeur.  Cayley joined him, and they stood there
+for a moment.
+
+"Hallo," said a pleasant voice behind them.  They turned round
+and saw Antony.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting, Bill."
+
+With a tremendous effort Bill restrained his feelings, and said
+casually enough that it was all right.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Cayley.  "You're going down to the
+village?"
+
+"That's the idea."
+
+"I wonder if you'd take this letter to Jallands for me?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Thanks very much.  Well, I shall see you later."
+
+He nodded and got into the car.
+
+As soon as they were alone Bill turned eagerly to his friend.
+
+"Well?" he said excitedly.
+
+"Come into the library."
+
+They went in, and Tony sank down into a chair.
+
+"You must give me a moment," he panted.  "I've been running."
+
+"Running?"
+
+"Well, of course.  How do you think I got back here?"
+
+"You don't mean you went out at the other end?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I say, did you hear me tapping?"
+
+"I did, indeed.  Bill, you're a genius."
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"I knew you'd understand," he said.  "You guessed that I meant
+Cayley?"
+
+"I did.  It was the least I could do after you had been so
+brilliant.  You must have had rather an exciting time."
+
+"Exciting?  Good Lord, I should think it was."
+
+"Tell me about it."
+
+As modestly as possible, Mr. Beverley explained his
+qualifications for a life on the stage.
+
+"Good man," said Antony at the end of it.  "You are the most
+perfect Watson that ever lived.  Bill, my lad," he went on
+dramatically, rising and taking Bill's hand in both of his,
+"There is nothing that you and I could not accomplish together,
+if we gave our minds to it."
+
+"Silly old ass."
+
+"That's what you always say when I'm being serious.  Well,
+anyway, thanks awfully.  You really saved us this time."
+
+"Were you coming back?"
+
+"Yes.  At least I think I was.  I was just wondering when I heard
+you tapping.  The fact of the door being shut was rather
+surprising. Of course the whole idea was to see if it could be
+opened easily from the other side, but I felt somehow that you
+wouldn't shut it until the last possible moment--until you saw me
+coming back.  Well, then I heard the taps, and I knew it must
+mean something, so I sat tight.  Then when C began to come along
+I said, 'Cayley, b'Jove'--bright, aren't I?--and I simply hared
+to the other end of the passage for all I was worth.  And hared
+back again.  Because I thought you might be getting rather
+involved in explanations--about where I was, and so on."
+
+"You didn't see Mark, then?"
+
+"No.  Nor his--No, I didn't see anything."
+
+"Nor what?"
+
+Antony was silent for a moment.
+
+"I didn't see anything, Bill.  Or rather, I did see something; I
+saw a door in the wall, a cupboard.  And it's locked.  So if
+there's anything we want to find, that's where it is."
+
+"Could Mark be hiding there?"
+
+"I called through the keyhole in a whisper 'Mark, are you there?'
+he would have thought it was Cayley.  There was no answer.
+
+"Well, let's go down and try again.  We might be able to get the
+door open."
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"Aren't I going at all?" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+When Antony spoke, it was to ask another question:
+
+"Can Cayley drive a car?"
+
+"Yes, of course.  Why?"
+
+"Then he might easily drop the chauffeur at his lodge and go off
+to Stanton, or wherever he wanted to, on his own?"
+
+"I suppose so if he wanted to."
+
+"Yes."  Antony got up.  "Well, look here, as we said we were
+going into the village, and as we promised to leave that letter,
+I almost think we'd better do it."
+
+"Oh! .... Oh, very well."
+
+"Jallands.  What were you telling me about that?  Oh, yes; the
+Widow Norbury."
+
+"That's right.  Cayley used to be rather keen on the daughter.
+The letter's for her."
+
+"Yes; well, let's take it.  Just to be on the safe side."
+
+"Am I going to be done out of that secret passage altogether?"
+asked Bill fretfully.
+
+"There's nothing to see, really, I promise you."
+
+"You're very mysterious.  What's upset you?  You did see
+something down there, I'm certain of it."
+
+"I did and I've told you about it."
+
+"No, you haven't.  You only told me about the door in the wall."
+
+"That's it, Bill.  And it's locked.  And I'm frightened of what's
+behind it."
+
+"But then we shall never know what's there if we aren't going to
+look."
+
+"We shall know to-night," said Antony, taking Bill's arm and
+leading him to the hall, "when we watch our dear friend Cayley
+dropping it into the pond."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+Mrs. Norbury Confides in Dear Mr. Gillingham
+
+
+They left the road, and took the path across the fields which
+sloped gently downwards towards Jallands.  Antony was silent, and
+since it is difficult to keep up a conversation with a silent man
+for any length of time, Bill had dropped into silence too.  Or
+rather, he hummed to himself, hit at thistles in the grass with
+his stick and made uncomfortable noises with his pipe.  But he
+noticed that his companion kept looking back over his shoulder,
+almost as if he wanted to remember for a future occasion the way
+by which they were coming. Yet there was no difficulty about it,
+for they remained all the time in view of the road, and the belt
+of trees above the long park wall which bordered its further side
+stood out clearly against the sky.
+
+Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a
+smile.
+
+"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
+
+"Cayley.  Didn't you see?"
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The car.  Going past on the road there."
+
+"So that's what you were looking for.  You've got jolly good
+eyes, my boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after
+only seeing it twice."
+
+"Well, I have got jolly good eyes."
+
+"I thought he was going to Stanton."
+
+"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
+
+"Then where is he going?"
+
+"The library, probably.  To consult our friend Ussher.  After
+making quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really
+were going to Jallands, as they said."
+
+Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
+
+"I say, do you think so?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised.  We must be devilishly inconvenient
+for him, hanging about the house.  Any moment he can get, when
+we're definitely somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
+
+"Useful for what?"
+
+"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else.  We know he's
+mixed up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two.
+Even if he doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel
+that at any moment we might stumble on something."
+
+Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
+
+"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
+
+"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him.  Bill
+pushed it through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's
+better," and returned the pipe to his pocket.
+
+"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
+
+"Well, that wants thinking over.  It's going to be difficult.  I
+wish we were sleeping at the inn .... Is this Miss Norbury, by
+any chance?"
+
+Bill looked up quickly.  They were close to Jallands now, an old
+thatched farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up
+to a new world, and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however,
+of so discreet a growth that they had not brought with them any
+obvious change of character, and Jallands even with a bathroom
+was still Jallands.  To the outward view, at any rate.  Inside,
+it was more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
+
+"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill.  "Not bad-looking, is she?"
+
+The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was
+something more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill
+was keeping his superlatives for another.  In Bill's eyes she
+must be judged, and condemned, by all that distinguished her from
+Betty Calladine.  To Antony, unhampered by these standards of
+comparison, she seemed, quite simply, beautiful.
+
+"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when
+the necessary handshakings and introductions were over.  "Here
+you are."
+
+"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about
+what has happened?  It seems so hopeless to say anything; so
+hopeless even to believe it.  If it is true what we've heard."
+
+Bill repeated the outline of events of yesterday.
+
+"Yes .... And Mr. Ablett hasn't been found yet?"  She shook her
+head in distress.  "It still seems to have happened to somebody
+else; somebody we didn't know at all."  Then, with a sudden grave
+smile which included both of them, "But you must come and have
+some tea."
+
+"It's awfully decent of you," said Bill awkwardly, "but we--er--"
+
+"You will, won't you?" she said to Antony.
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+Mrs. Norbury was delighted to see them, as she always was to see
+any man in her house who came up to the necessary standard of
+eligibility.  When her life-work was completed, and summed up in
+those beautiful words: "A marriage has been arranged, and will
+shortly take place, between Angela, daughter of the late John
+Norbury ...." then she would utter a grateful Nunc dimittis and
+depart in peace to a better world, if Heaven insisted, but
+preferably to her new son-in-law's more dignified establishment.
+For there was no doubt that eligibility meant not only
+eligibility as a husband.
+
+But it was not as "eligibles" that the visitors from the Red
+House were received with such eagerness to-day, and even if her
+special smile for "possibles" was there, it was instinctive
+rather than reasoned.  All that she wanted at this moment was
+news--news of Mark.  For she was bringing it off at last; and, if
+the engagement columns of the "Morning Post" were preceded, as in
+the case of its obituary columns, by a premonitory bulletin, the
+announcement of yesterday would have cried triumphantly to the
+world, or to such part of the world as mattered: "A marriage has
+very nearly been arranged (by Mrs. Norbury), and will certainly
+take place, between Angela, only daughter of the late John
+Norbury, and--Mark Ablett of the Red House."  And, coming across
+it on his way to the sporting page, Bill would have been
+surprised.  For he had thought that, if anybody, it was Cayley.
+
+To the girl it was neither.  She was often amused by her mother's
+ways; sometimes ashamed of them; sometimes distressed by them.
+The Mark Ablett affair had seemed to her particularly
+distressing, for Mark was so obviously in league with her mother
+against her.  Other suitors, upon whom her mother had smiled, had
+been embarrassed by that championship; Mark appeared to depend on
+it as much as on his own attractions; great though he thought
+these to be.  They went a-wooing together.  It was a pleasure to
+turn to Cayley, that hopeless ineligible.
+
+But alas!  Cayley had misunderstood her.  She could not imagine
+Cayley in love until she saw it, and tried, too late, to stop it.
+That was four days ago.  She had not seen him since, and now here
+was this letter.  She dreaded opening it.  It was a relief to
+feel that at least she had an excuse for not doing so while her
+guests were in the house.
+
+Mrs. Norbury recognized at once that Antony was likely to be the
+more sympathetic listener; and when tea was over, and Bill and
+Angela had been dispatched to the garden with the promptness and
+efficiency of the expert, dear Mr. Gillingham found himself on
+the sofa beside her, listening to many things which were of even
+greater interest to him than she could possibly have hoped.
+
+"It is terrible, terrible," she said.  "And to suggest that dear
+Mr. Ablett--"
+
+Antony made suitable noises.
+
+"You've seen Mr. Ablett for yourself.  A kinder, more warmhearted
+man--"
+
+Antony explained that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Of course, yes, I was forgetting.  But, believe me, Mr.
+Gillingham, you can trust a woman's intuition in these matters."
+
+Antony said that he was sure of this.
+
+"Think of my feelings as a mother."
+
+Antony was thinking of Miss Norbury's feelings as a daughter, and
+wondering if she guessed that her affairs were now being
+discussed with a stranger.  Yet what could he do?  What, indeed,
+did he want to do except listen, in the hope of learning?  Mark
+engaged, or about to be engaged!  Had that any bearing on the
+events of yesterday?  What, for instance, would Mrs. Norbury have
+thought of brother Robert, that family skeleton?  Was this
+another reason for wanting brother Robert out of the way?
+
+"I never liked him, never!"
+
+"Never liked?" said Antony, bewildered.
+
+"That cousin of his Mr. Cayley."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I ask you, Mr. Gillingham, am I the sort of woman to trust my
+little girl to a man who would go about shooting his only
+brother?"
+
+"I'm sure you wouldn't, Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"If there has been any shooting done, it has been done by
+somebody else."
+
+Antony looked at her inquiringly.
+
+"I never liked him," said Mrs. Norbury firmly.  "Never."
+However, thought Antony to himself, that didn't quite prove that
+Cayley was a murderer.
+
+"How did Miss Norbury get on with him?" he asked cautiously.
+
+"There was nothing in that at all," said Miss Norbury's mother
+emphatically.  "Nothing.  I would say so to anybody."
+
+"Oh, I beg your pardon.  I never meant--"
+
+"Nothing.  I can say that for dear Angela with perfect
+confidence.  Whether he made advances--"  She broke off with a
+shrug of her plump shoulders.
+
+Antony waited eagerly.
+
+"Naturally they met.  Possibly he might have--I don't know.  But
+my duty as a mother was clear, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+Mr. Gillingham made an encouraging noise.
+
+"I told him quite frankly that--how shall I put it?--that he was
+trespassing.  Tactfully, of course.  But frankly."
+
+"You mean," said Antony, trying to speak calmly, "that you told
+him that--er--Mr. Ablett and your daughter--?"
+
+Mrs. Norbury nodded several times.
+
+"Exactly, Mr. Gillingham.  I had my duty as a mother."
+
+"I am sure, Mrs. Norbury, that nothing would keep you from doing
+your duty.  But it must have been disagreeable.  Particularly if
+you weren't quite sure--"
+
+"He was attracted, Mr. Gillingham.  Obviously attracted."
+
+"Who would not be?" said Antony, with a charming smile.  "It must
+have been something of a shock to him to--"
+
+"It was just that which made me so glad that I had spoken.  I saw
+at once that I had not spoken a moment too soon."
+
+"There must have been a certain awkwardness about the next
+meeting," suggested Antony.
+
+"Naturally, he has not been here since.  No doubt they would have
+been bound to meet up at the Red House sooner or later."
+
+"Oh,--this was only quite lately?"
+
+"Last week, Mr. Gillingham.  I spoke just in time."
+
+"Ah!" said Antony, under his breath.  He had been waiting for it.
+
+He would have liked now to have gone away, so that he might have
+thought over the new situation by himself; or, perhaps
+preferably, to have changed partners for a little while with
+Bill.  Miss Norbury would hardly be ready to confide in a
+stranger with the readiness of a mother, but he might have learnt
+something by listening to her.  For which of them had she the
+greater feeling, Cayley or Mark?  Was she really prepared to
+marry Mark?  Did she love him or the other--or neither?  Mrs.
+Norbury was only a trustworthy witness in regard to her own
+actions and thoughts; he had learnt all that was necessary of
+those, and only the daughter now had anything left to tell him.
+But Mrs. Norbury was still talking.
+
+"Girls are so foolish, Mr. Gillingham," she was saying.  "It is
+fortunate that they have mothers to guide them.  It was so
+obvious to me from the beginning that dear Mr. Ablett was just
+the husband for my little girl.  You never knew him?"
+
+Antony said again that he had not seen Mr. Ablett.
+
+"Such a gentleman.  So nice-looking, in his artistic way.  A
+regular Velasquez--I should say Van Dyck.  Angela would have it
+that she could never marry a man with a beard.  As if that
+mattered, when--" She broke off, and Antony finished her sentence
+for her.
+
+"The Red House is certainly charming," he said.
+
+"Charming.  Quite charming.  And it is not as if Mr. Ablett's
+appearance were in any way undistinguished.  Quite the contrary.
+I'm sure you agree with me?"
+
+Antony said that he had never had the pleasure of seeing Mr.
+Ablett.
+
+"Yes.  And quite the centre of the literary and artistic world.
+So desirable in every way."
+
+She gave a deep sigh, and communed with herself for a little.
+Antony was, about to snatch the opportunity of leaving, when Mrs.
+Norbury began again.
+
+"And then there's this scapegrace brother of his.  He was
+perfectly frank with me, Mr. Gillingham.  He would be.  He told
+me of this brother, and I told him that I was quite certain it
+would make no difference to my daughter's feelings for him ....
+After all, the brother was in Australia."
+
+"When was this?  Yesterday?"  Antony felt that, if Mark had only
+mentioned it after his brother's announcement of a personal call
+at the Red House, this perfect frankness had a good deal of
+wisdom behind it.
+
+"It couldn't have been yesterday, Mr. Gillingham.  Yesterday--"
+she shuddered, and shook her head.
+
+"I thought perhaps he had been down here in the morning."
+
+"Oh, no!  There is such a thing, Mr. Gillingham, as being too
+devoted a lover.  Not in the morning, no.  We both agreed that
+dear Angela--Oh, no.  No; the day before yesterday, when he
+happened to drop in about tea-time."
+
+It occurred to Antony that Mrs. Norbury had come a long way from
+her opening statement that Mark and Miss Norbury were practically
+engaged.  She was now admitting that dear Angela was not to be
+rushed, that dear Angela had, indeed, no heart for the match at
+all.
+
+"The day before yesterday.  As it happened, dear Angela was out.
+Not that it mattered.  He was driving to Middleston.  He hardly
+had time for a cup of tea, so that even if she had been in--"
+
+Antony nodded absently.  This was something new.  Why did Mark go
+to Middleston the day before yesterday?  But, after all, why
+shouldn't he?  A hundred reasons unconnected with the death of
+Robert might have taken him there.
+
+He got up to go.  He wanted to be alone--alone, at least, with
+Bill.  Mrs. Norbury had given him many things to think over, but
+the great outstanding fact which had emerged was this: that
+Cayley had reason to hate Mark,--Mrs. Norbury had given him that
+reason.  To hate?  Well, to be jealous, anyhow.  But that was
+enough.
+
+"You see," he said to Bill, as they walked back, "we know that
+Cayley is perjuring himself and risking himself over this
+business, and that must be for one of two reasons.  Either to
+save Mark or to endanger him.  That is to say, he is either
+whole-heartedly for him or whole-heartedly against him.  Well,
+now we know that he is against him, definitely against him."
+
+"But, I say, you know," protested Bill, "one doesn't necessarily
+try to ruin one's rival in love."
+
+"Doesn't one?" said Antony, turning to him with a smile.
+
+Bill blushed.
+
+"Well, of course, one never knows, but I mean--"
+
+"You mightn't try to ruin him, Bill, but you wouldn't perjure
+yourself in order to get him out of a trouble of his own making."
+
+"Lord! no."
+
+"So that of the two alternatives the other is the more likely."
+
+They had come to the gate into the last field which divided them
+from the road, and having gone through it, they turned round and
+leant against it, resting for a moment, and looking down at the
+house which they had left.
+
+"Jolly little place, isn't it?" said Bill.
+
+"Very.  But rather mysterious."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Well, where's the front door?"
+
+"The front door?  Why, you've just come out of it."
+
+"But isn't there a drive, or a road or anything?"
+
+Bill laughed.
+
+"No; that's the beauty of it to some people.  And that's why it's
+so cheap, and why the Norburys can afford it, I expect.  They're
+not too well off."
+
+"But what about luggage and tradesmen and that kind of thing?"
+
+"Oh, there's a cart-track, but motor-cars can't come any nearer
+than the road" he turned round and pointed "up there.  So the
+week-end millionaire people don't take it.  At least, they'd have
+to build a road and a garage and all the rest of it, if they
+did."
+
+"I see," said Antony carelessly, and they turned round and
+continued their walk up to the road.  But later on he remembered
+this casual conversation at the gate, and saw the importance of
+it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+Getting Ready for the Night
+
+
+What was it which Cayley was going to hide in that pond that
+night?  Antony thought that he knew now.  It was Mark's body.
+
+From the beginning he had seen this answer coming and had drawn
+back from it.  For, if Mark had been killed, it seemed such a
+cold-blooded killing.  Was Cayley equal to it?  Bill would have
+said "No," but that was because he had had breakfast with Cayley,
+and lunch with him, and dinner with him; had ragged him and
+played games with him.  Bill would have said "No," because Bill
+wouldn't have killed anybody in cold blood himself, and because
+he took it for granted that other people behaved pretty much as
+he did.  But Antony had no such illusions.  Murders were done;
+murder had actually been done here, for there was Robert's dead
+body.  Why not another murder?
+
+Had Mark been in the office at all that afternoon?  The only
+evidence (other than Cayley's, which obviously did not count) was
+Elsie's.  Elsie was quite certain that she had heard his voice.
+But then Bill had said that it was a very characteristic voice
+--an easy voice, therefore, to imitate.  If Bill could imitate it
+so successfully, why not Cayley?
+
+But perhaps it had not been such a cold-blooded killing, after
+all.  Suppose Cayley had had a quarrel with his cousin that
+afternoon over the girl whom they were both wooing.  Suppose
+Cayley had killed Mark, either purposely, in sudden passion, or
+accidentally, meaning only to knock him down.  Suppose that this
+had happened in the passage, say about two o'clock, either
+because Cayley had deliberately led him there, or because Mark
+had casually suggested a visit to it.  (One could imagine Mark
+continually gloating over that secret passage.)  Suppose Cayley
+there, with the body at his feet, feeling already the rope round
+his neck; his mind darting this way and that in frantic search
+for a way of escape; and suppose that suddenly and irrelevantly
+he remembers that Robert is coming to the house at three o'clock
+that afternoon--automatically he looks at his watch--in half an
+hour's time ....  In half an hour's time.  He must think of
+something quickly, quickly.  Shall he bury the body in the
+passage and let it be thought that Mark ran away, frightened at
+the mere thought of his brother's arrival?  But there was the
+evidence of the breakfast table.  Mark had seemed annoyed at this
+resurrection of the black sheep, but certainly not frightened.
+No; that was much too thin a story.  But suppose Mark had
+actually seen his brother and had a quarrel with him; suppose it
+could be made to look as if Robert had killed Mark--
+
+Antony pictured to himself Cayley in the passage, standing over
+the dead body of his cousin, and working it out.  How could
+Robert be made to seem the murderer, if Robert were alive to deny
+it?  But suppose Robert were dead, too?
+
+He looks at his watch again.  (Only twenty-five minutes now.)
+Suppose Robert were dead, too?  Robert dead in the office, and
+Mark dead in the passage how does that help?  Madness!  But if
+the bodies were brought together somehow and Robert's death
+looked like suicide? ....  Was it possible?
+
+Madness again.  Too difficult.  (Only twenty minutes now.)  Too
+difficult to arrange in twenty minutes.  Can't arrange a suicide.
+Too difficult ....  Only nineteen minutes ....
+
+And then the sudden inspiration!  Robert dead in the office,
+Mark's body hidden in the passage--impossible to make Robert seem
+the murderer, but how easy to make Mark!  Robert dead and Mark
+missing; why, it jumped to the eye at once.  Mark had killed
+Robert--accidentally; yes, that would be more likely--and then
+had run away.  Sudden panic .... (He looks at his watch again.
+Fifteen minutes, but plenty of time now.  The thing arranges
+itself.)
+
+Was that the solution, Antony wondered.  It seemed to fit in with
+the facts as they knew them; but then, so did that other theory
+which he had suggested to Bill in the morning.
+
+"Which one?" said Bill.
+
+They had come back from Jallands through the park and were
+sitting in the copse above the pond, from which the Inspector and
+his fishermen had now withdrawn.  Bill had listened with open
+mouth to Antony's theory, and save for an occasional "By Jove!"
+had listened in silence.  "Smart man, Cayley," had been his only
+comment at the end.
+
+"Which other theory?"
+
+"That Mark had killed Robert accidentally and had gone to Cayley
+for help, and that Cayley, having hidden him in the passage,
+locked the office door from the outside and hammered on it."
+
+"Yes, but you were so dashed mysterious about that.  I asked you
+what the point of it was, and you wouldn't say anything."  He
+thought for a little, and then went on, "I suppose you meant that
+Cayley deliberately betrayed Mark, and tried to make him look
+like a murderer?"
+
+"I wanted to warn you that we should probably find Mark in the
+passage, alive or dead."
+
+"And now you don't think so?"
+
+"Now I think that his dead body is there."
+
+"Meaning that Cayley went down and killed him afterwards after
+you had come, after the police had come?"
+
+"Well, that's what I shrink from, Bill.  It's so horribly
+cold-blooded.  Cayley may be capable of it, but I hate to think
+of it."
+
+"But, dash it all, your other way is cold-blooded enough.
+According to you, he goes up to the office and deliberately
+shoots a man with whom he has no quarrel, whom he hasn't seen for
+fifteen years!"
+
+"Yes, but to save his own neck.  That makes a difference.  My
+theory is that he quarrelled violently with Mark over the girl,
+and killed him in sudden passion.  Anything that happened after
+that would be self-defense.  I don't mean that I excuse it, but
+that I understand it.  And I think that Mark's dead body is in
+the passage now, and has been there since, say, half-past two
+yesterday afternoon.  And to-night Cayley is going to hide it in
+the pond."
+
+Bill pulled at the moss on the ground beside him, threw away a
+handful or two, and said slowly, "You may be right, but it's all
+guess-work, you know."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"Good Lord, of course it is," he said.  "And to-night we shall
+know if it's a good guess or a bad one."
+
+Bill brightened up suddenly.
+
+"To-night," he said.  "I say, to-night's going to be rather fun.
+How do we work it?"
+
+Antony was silent for a little.
+
+"Of course," he said at last, "we ought to inform the police, so
+that they can come here and watch the pond to-night."
+
+"Of course," grinned Bill.
+
+"But I think that perhaps it is a little early to put our
+theories before them."
+
+"I think perhaps it is," said Bill solemnly.
+
+Antony looked up at him with a sudden smile.
+
+"Bill, you old bounder."
+
+"Well, dash it, it's our show.  I don't see why we shouldn't get
+our little bit of fun out of it."
+
+"Neither do I.  All right, then, we'll do without the police
+to-night."
+
+"We shall miss them," said Bill sadly, "but 'tis better so."
+
+There were two problems in front of them: first, the problem of
+getting out of the house without being discovered by Cayley, and
+secondly, the problem of recovering whatever it was which Cayley
+dropped into the pond that night.
+
+"Let's look at it from Cayley's point of view," said Antony.  "He
+may not know that we're on his track, but he can't help being
+suspicious of us.  He's bound to be suspicious of everybody in
+the house, and more particularly of us, because we're presumably
+more intelligent than the others."
+
+He stopped for a moment to light his pipe, and Bill took the
+opportunity of looking more intelligent than Mrs. Stevens.
+
+"Now, he has got something to hide to-night, and he's going to
+take good care that we aren't watching him.  Well, what will he
+do?"
+
+"See that we are asleep first, before he starts out."
+
+"Yes.  Come and tuck us up, and see that we're nice and
+comfortable."
+
+"Yes, that's awkward," said Bill.  "But we could lock our doors,
+and then he wouldn't know that we weren't there."
+
+"Have you ever locked your door?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"No.  And you can bet that Cayley knows that.  Anyway, he'd bang
+on it, and you wouldn't answer, and then what would he think?"
+
+Bill was silent; crushed.
+
+"Then I don't see how we're going to do it," he said, after deep
+thought.  "He'll obviously come to us just before he starts out,
+and that doesn't give us time to get to the pond in front of
+him."
+
+"Let's put ourselves in his place," said Antony, puffing slowly
+at his pipe.  "He's got the body, or whatever it is, in the
+passage. He won't come up the stairs, carrying it in his arms,
+and look in at our doors to see if we're awake.  He'll have to
+make sure about us first, and then go down for the body
+afterwards.  So that gives us a little time."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill doubtfully.  "We might just do it, but it'll
+be a bit of a rush."
+
+"But wait.  When he's gone down to the passage and got the body,
+what will he do next?"
+
+"Come out again," said Bill helpfully.
+
+"Yes; but which end?"
+
+Bill sat up with a start.
+
+"By Jove, you mean that he will go out at the far end by the
+bowling-green?"
+
+"Don't you think so?  Just imagine him walking across the lawn in
+full view of the house, at midnight, with a body in his arms.
+Think of the awful feeling he would have in the back of the neck,
+wondering if anybody, any restless sleeper, had chosen just that
+moment to wander to the window and look out into the night.
+There's still plenty of moonlight, Bill.  Is he going to walk
+across the park in the moonlight, with all those windows staring
+at him?  Not if he can help it.  But he can get out by the
+bowling green, and then come to the pond without ever being in
+sight of the house, at all."
+
+"You're right.  And that will just about give us time.  Good.
+Now, what's the next thing?"
+
+"The next thing is to mark the exact place in the pond where he
+drops whatever he drops."
+
+"So that we can fish it out again."
+
+"If we can see what it is, we shan't want to.  The police can
+have a go at it to-morrow.  But if it's something we can't
+identify from a distance, then we must try and get it out.  To
+see whether it's worth telling the police about."
+
+"Y-yes," said Bill, wrinkling his forehead.  "Of course, the
+trouble with water is that one bit of it looks pretty much like
+the next bit.  I don't know if that had occurred to you.
+
+"It had," smiled Antony.  "Let's come and have a look at it."
+
+They walked to the edge of the copse, and lay down there in
+silence, looking at the pond beneath them.
+
+"See anything?" said Antony at last.
+
+"What?"
+
+"The fence on the other side."
+
+"What about it?"
+
+"Well, it's rather useful, that's all."
+
+"Said Sherlock Holmes enigmatically," added Bill.  "A moment
+later, his friend Watson had hurled him into the pond."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I love being Sherlocky," he said.  "It's very unfair of you not
+to play up to me."
+
+"Why is that fence useful, my dear Holmes?" said Bill obediently.
+
+"Because you can take a bearing on it.  You see--"
+
+"Yes, you needn't stop to explain to me what a bearing is."
+
+"I wasn't going to.  But you're lying here," he looked up
+"underneath this pine-tree.  Cayley comes out in the old boat and
+drops his parcel in.  You take a line from here on to the boat,
+and mark it off on the fence there.  Say it's the fifth post from
+the end.  Well, then I take a line from my tree we'll find one
+for me directly and it comes on to the twentieth post, say.  And
+where the two lines meet, there shall the eagles be gathered
+together.  Q.E.D.  And there, I almost forgot to remark, will the
+taller eagle, Beverley by name, do his famous diving act.  As
+performed nightly at the Hippodrome."
+
+Bill looked at him uneasily.
+
+"I say, really?  It's beastly dirty water, you know."
+
+"I'm afraid so, Bill.  So it is written in the book of Jasher."
+
+"Of course I knew that one of us would have to, but I hoped,
+well, it's a warm night."
+
+"Just the night for a bathe," agreed Antony, getting up.  "Well
+now, let's have a look for my tree."
+
+They walked down to the margin of the pond and then looked back.
+Bill's tree stood up and took the evening, tall and unmistakable,
+fifty feet nearer to heaven than its neighbours.  But it had its
+fellow at the other end of the copse, not quite so tall, perhaps,
+but equally conspicuous.
+
+"That's where I shall be," said Antony, pointing to it.  "Now,
+for the Lord's sake, count your posts accurately."
+
+"Thanks very much, but I shall do it for my own sake," said Bill
+with feeling.  "I don't want to spend the whole night diving."
+
+"Fix on the post in a straight line with you and the splash, and
+then count backwards to the beginning of the fence."
+
+"Right, old boy.  Leave it to me.  I can do this on my head."
+
+"Well, that's how you will have to do the last part of it," said
+Antony with a smile.
+
+He looked at his watch.  It was nearly time to change for dinner.
+They started to walk back to the house together.
+
+"There's one thing which worries me rather," said Antony.  "Where
+does Cayley sleep?"
+
+"Next door to me.  Why?"
+
+"Well, it's just possible that he might have another look at you
+after he's come back from the pond.  I don't think he'd bother
+about it in the ordinary way, but if he is actually passing your
+door, I think he might glance in."
+
+"I shan't be there.  I shall be at the bottom of the pond,
+sucking up mud."
+
+"Yes ....  Do you think you could leave something in your bed
+that looked vaguely like you in the dark?  A bolster with a
+pyjama-coat round it, and one arm outside the blanket, and a pair
+of socks or something for the head.  You know the kind of thing.
+I think it would please him to feel that you were still sleeping
+peacefully."
+
+Bill chuckled to himself.
+
+"Rather.  I'm awfully good at that.  I'll make him up something
+really good.  But what about you?"
+
+"I'm at the other end of the house; he's hardly likely to bother
+about me a second time.  And I shall be so very fast asleep at
+his first visit.  Still, I may as well to be on the safe side."
+
+They went into the house.  Cayley was in the hall as they came
+in.  He nodded, and took out his watch.
+
+"Time to change?" he said.
+
+"Just about," said Bill.
+
+"You didn't forget my letter?"
+
+"I did not.  In fact, we had tea there."
+
+"Ah!"  He looked away and said carelessly, "How were they all?"
+
+"They sent all sorts of sympathetic messages to you, and--and all
+that sort of thing."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+Bill waited for him to say something more, and then, as nothing
+was coming, he turned round, said, "Come on, Tony," and led the
+way upstairs.
+
+"Got all you want?" he said at the top of the stairs.
+
+"I think so.  Come and see me before you go down."
+
+"Righto."
+
+Antony shut his bedroom door behind him and walked over to the
+window.  He pushed open a casement and looked out.  His bedroom
+was just over the door at the back of the house.  The side wall
+of the office, which projected out into the lawn beyond the rest
+of the house, was on his left.  He could step out on to the top
+of the door, and from there drop easily to the ground.  Getting
+back would be little more difficult.  There was a convenient
+water-pipe which would help.
+
+He had just finished his dressing when Bill came in.  "Final
+instructions?" he asked, sitting down on the bed.  "By the way,
+how are we amusing ourselves after dinner?  I mean immediately
+after dinner."
+
+"Billiards?"
+
+"Righto.  Anything you like."
+
+"Don't talk too loud," said Antony in a lower voice.  "We're more
+or less over the hall, and Cayley may be there."  He led the way
+to the window.  "We'll go out this way to-night.  Going
+downstairs is too risky.  It's easy enough; better put on
+tennis-shoes."
+
+"Right.  I say, in case I don't get another chance alone with you
+what do I do when Cayley comes to tuck me up?"
+
+"It's difficult to say.  Be as natural as you can.  I mean, if he
+just knocks lightly and looks in, be asleep.  Don't overdo the
+snoring.  But if he makes a hell of a noise, you'll have to wake
+up and rub your eyes, and wonder what on earth he's doing in your
+room at all.  You know the sort of thing."
+
+"Right.  And about the dummy figure.  I'll make it up directly we
+come upstairs, and hide it under the bed."
+
+"Yes ....  I think we'd better go completely to bed ourselves.
+We shan't take a moment dressing again, and it will give him time
+to get safely into the passage.  Then come into my room."
+
+"Right ....  Are you ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They went downstairs together.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+Mr. Beverley Takes the Water
+
+
+Cayley seemed very fond of them that night.  After dinner was
+over, he suggested a stroll outside.  They walked up and down the
+gravel in front of the house, saying very little to each other,
+until Bill could stand it no longer.  For the last twenty turns
+he had been slowing down hopefully each time they came to the
+door, but the hint had always been lost on his companions, and
+each time another turn had been taken.  But in the end he had
+been firm.
+
+"What about a little billiards?" he said, shaking himself free
+from the others.
+
+"Will you play?" said Antony to Cayley.
+
+"I'll watch you," he said, and he had watched them resolutely
+until the game, and then another game after that; had been
+played.
+
+They went into the hall and attacked the drinks.
+
+"Well, thank heaven for bed," said Bill; putting down his glass.
+"Are you coming?"
+
+"Yes," said Antony, and finished his drink.  He looked at Cayley.
+
+"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley.  "I
+shan't be long following you."
+
+"Well, good night, then."
+
+"Good night."
+
+"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs.  "Good
+night, Tony."
+
+"Good night."
+
+Bill looked at his watch.  Half-past eleven.  Not much chance of
+anything happening for another hour.  He pulled open a drawer and
+wondered what to wear on their expedition.  Grey flannel
+trousers, flannel shirt, and a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as
+they might be lying out in the copse for some time.  And good
+idea a towel.  He would want it later on, and meanwhile he could
+wear it round his waist.
+
+Tennis-shoes .... There Everything was ready.  Now then for the
+dummy figure.
+
+He looked at his watch again before getting into bed.
+Twelve-fifteen. How long to wait before Cayley came up?  He
+turned out the light, and then, standing by the door in his
+pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the new
+darkness ....  He could only just make out the bed in the corner
+of the room.  Cayley would want more light than that if he were
+to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied.  He
+pulled the curtains a little way back.  That was about right.  He
+could have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in
+the bed.
+
+How long would it be before Cayley came up?  It wasn't that he
+wanted his friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before
+he started on his business at the pond; all that he wanted was to
+be sure that they were safely in their bedrooms.  Cayley's
+business would make no noise, give no sign, to attract the most
+wakeful member of the household, so long as the household was
+really inside the house. But if he wished to reassure himself
+about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far
+enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he
+came up to reassure himself.  So it amounted to the same thing,
+really.  He would wait until they were asleep .... until they
+were asleep .... asleep ....
+
+With a great effort Bill regained the mastery over his wandering
+thoughts and came awake again.  This would never do.  It would be
+fatal if he went to sleep .... if he went to sleep .... to sleep
+....  And then, in an instant, he was intensely awake.  Suppose
+Cayley never came at all!
+
+Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone
+upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his
+business.  Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into
+it that secret of his.  Good heavens, what fools they had been!
+How could Antony have taken such a risk?  Put yourself in
+Cayley's place, he had said.  But how was it possible?  They
+weren't Cayley.  Cayley was at the pond now.  They would never
+know what he had dropped into it.
+
+Listen! ....  Somebody at the door.  He was asleep.  Quite
+naturally now.  Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps.  He was
+asleep ....  The door was opening.  He could feel it opening
+behind him ....  Good Lord, suppose Cayley really was a murderer!
+Why, even now he might be--no, he mustn't think of that.  If he
+thought of that, he would have to turn round.  He mustn't turn
+round.  He was asleep; just peacefully asleep.  But why didn't
+the door shut?  Where was Cayley now?  Just behind him?  And in
+his hand no, he mustn't think of that. He was asleep.  But why
+didn't the door shut?
+
+The door was shutting.  There was a sigh from the sleeper in the
+bed, a sigh of relief which escaped him involuntarily.  But it
+had a very natural sound a deep breath from a heavy sleeper.  He
+added another one to it to make it seem more natural.  The door
+was shut.
+
+Bill counted a hundred slowly and then got up.  As quickly and as
+noiselessly as possible he dressed himself in the dark.  He put
+the dummy figure in the bed, arranged the clothes so that just
+enough but not too much of it was showing, and stood by the door
+looking at it.  For a casual glance the room was just about light
+enough. Then very quietly, very slowly he opened the door.  All
+was still. There was no light from beneath the door of Cayley's
+room.  Very quietly, very carefully he crept along the passage to
+Antony's room. He opened the door and went in.
+
+Antony was still in bed.  Bill walked across to wake him up, and
+then stopped rigid, and his heart thumped against his ribs.
+There was somebody else in the room.
+
+"All right, Bill," said a whispering voice, and Antony stepped
+out from the curtains.
+
+Bill gazed at him without saying anything.
+
+"Rather good, isn't it?" said Antony, coming closer and pointing
+to the bed.  "Come on; the sooner we get out now, the better."
+
+He led the way out of the window, the silent Bill following him.
+They reached the ground safely and noiselessly, went quickly
+across the lawn and so, over the fence, into the park.  It was
+not until they were out of sight of the house that Bill felt it
+safe to speak.
+
+"I quite thought it was you in bed," he said.
+
+"I hoped you would.  I shall be rather disappointed now if Cayley
+doesn't call again.  It's a pity to waste it."
+
+"He came all right just now?"
+
+"Oh, rather.  What about you?"
+
+Bill explained his feelings picturesquely.
+
+"There wouldn't have been much point in his killing you," said
+Antony prosaically.  "Besides being too risky."
+
+"Oh!" said Bill.  And then, "I had rather hoped that it was his
+love for me which restrained him."
+
+Antony laughed.
+
+"I doubt it ....  You didn't turn up your light when you
+dressed?"
+
+"Good Lord, no.  Did you want me to?"
+
+Antony laughed again and took him by the arm.
+
+"You're a splendid conspirator, Bill.  You and I could take on
+anything together."
+
+The pond was waiting for them, more solemn in the moonlight.  The
+trees which crowned the sloping bank on the far side of it were
+mysteriously silent.  It seemed that they had the world very much
+to themselves.
+
+Almost unconsciously Antony spoke in a whisper.
+
+"There's your tree, there's mine.  As long as you don't move,
+there's no chance of his seeing you.  After he's gone, don't come
+out till I do.  He won't be here for a quarter of an hour or so,
+so don't be impatient."
+
+"Righto," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony gave him a nod and a smile, and they walked off to their
+posts.
+
+The minutes went by slowly.  To Antony, lying hidden in the
+undergrowth at the foot of his tree, a new problem was presenting
+itself.  Suppose Cayley had to make more than one journey that
+night?  He might come back to find them in the boat; one of them,
+indeed, in the water.  And if they decided to wait in hiding, on
+the chance of Cayley coming back again, what was the least time
+they could safely allow?  Perhaps it would be better to go round
+to the front of the house and watch for his return there, the
+light in his bedroom, before conducting their experiments at the
+pond.  But then they might miss his second visit in this way, if
+he made a second visit. It was difficult.
+
+His eyes were fixed on the boat as he considered these things,
+and suddenly, as if materialized from nowhere, Cayley was
+standing by the boat.  In his hand was a small brown bag.
+
+Cayley put the bag in the bottom of the boat, stepped in, and
+using an oar as a punt-pole, pushed slowly off.  Then, very
+silently, he rowed towards the middle of the pond.
+
+He had stopped.  The oars rested on the water.  He picked up the
+bag from between his feet, leant over the nose of the boat, and
+rested it lightly on the water for a moment.  Then he let go.  It
+sank slowly.  He waited there, watching; afraid, perhaps, that it
+might rise again.  Antony began to count ....
+
+And now Cayley was back at his starting-place.  He tied up the
+boat, looked carefully round to see that he had left no traces
+behind him, and then turned to the water again.  For a long time,
+as it seemed to the watchers, he stood there, very big, very
+silent, in the moonlight.  At last he seemed satisfied.  Whatever
+his secret was, he had hidden it; and so with a gentle sigh, as
+unmistakable to Antony as if he had heard it, Cayley turned away
+and vanished again as quietly as he had come.
+
+Antony gave him three minutes, and stepped out from the trees.
+He waited there for Bill to join him.
+
+"Six," whispered Bill.
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"I'm going round to the front of the house.  You get back to your
+tree and watch, in case Cayley comes again.  Your bedroom is the
+left-hand end one, and Cayley's the end but one?  Is that right?"
+
+Bill nodded.
+
+"Right.  Wait in hiding till I come back.  I don't know how long
+I shall be, but don't be impatient.  It will seem longer than it
+is."  He patted Bill on the shoulder, and with a smile and a nod
+of the head he left him there.
+
+What was in the bag?  What could Cayley want to hide other than a
+key or a revolver?  Keys and revolvers sink of themselves; no
+need to put them in a bag first.  What was in the bag?  Something
+which wouldn't sink of itself; something which needed to be
+helped with stones before it would hide itself safely in the mud.
+
+Well, they would find that out.  There was no object in worrying
+about it now.  Bill had a dirty night's work in front of him.
+But where was the body which Antony had expected so confidently
+or, if there were no body, where was Mark?
+
+More immediately, however, where was Cayley?  As quickly as he
+could Antony had got to the front of the house and was now lying
+in the shrubbery which bordered the lawn, waiting for the light
+to go up in Cayley's window.  If it went up in Bill's window,
+then they were discovered.  It would mean that Cayley had glanced
+into Bill's room, had been suspicious of the dummy figure in the
+bed, and had turned up the light to make sure.  After that, it
+was war between them.  But if it went up in Cayley's room--
+
+There was a light.  Antony felt a sudden thrill of excitement.
+It was in Bill's room.  War!
+
+The light stayed there, shining vividly, for a wind had come up,
+blowing the moon behind a cloud, and casting a shadow over the
+rest of the house.  Bill had left his curtains undrawn.  It was
+careless of him; the first stupid thing he had done, but--
+
+The moon slipped out again .... and Antony laughed to himself in
+the bushes.  There was another window beyond Cayley's, and there
+was no light in it.  The declaration of war was postponed.
+
+Antony lay there, watching Cayley into bed.  After all it was
+only polite to return Cayley's own solicitude earlier in the
+night. Politeness demanded that one should not disport oneself on
+the pond until one's friends were comfortably tucked up.
+
+Meanwhile Bill was getting tired of waiting.  His chief fear was
+that he might spoil everything by forgetting the number "six."
+It was the sixth post.  Six.  He broke off a twig and divided it
+into six pieces.  These he arranged on the ground in front of
+him.  Six. He looked at the pond, counted up to the sixth post,
+and murmured "six" to himself again.  Then he looked down at his
+twigs. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven.  Seven!  Was it seven?
+Or was that seventh bit of a twig an accidental bit which had
+been on the ground anyhow?  Surely it was six!  Had he said "six"
+to Antony?  If so, Antony would remember, and it was all right.
+Six.  He threw away the seventh twig and collected the other six
+together.  Perhaps they would be safer in his pocket.  Six.  The
+height of a tall man--well, his own height.  Six feet.  Yes, that
+was the way to remember it.  Feeling a little safer on the point,
+he began to wonder about the bag, and what Antony would say to
+it, and the possible depth of the water and of the mud at the
+bottom; and was still so wondering, and saying, "Good Lord, what
+a life!" to himself, when Antony reappeared.
+
+Bill got up and came down the slope to meet him.
+
+"Six," he said firmly.  "Sixth post from the end."
+
+"Good," smiled Antony.  "Mine was the eighteenth--a little way
+past it."
+
+"What did you go off for?"
+
+"To see Cayley into bed."
+
+"Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes.  Better hang your coat over the sixth post, and then we
+shall see it more easily.  I'll put mine on the eighteenth.  Are
+you going to undress here or in the boat?"
+
+"Some here, and some in the boat.  You're quite sure that you
+wouldn't like to do the diving yourself?"
+
+"Quite, thanks."
+
+They had walked round to the other side of the pond.  Coming to
+the sixth post of the fence, Bill took off his coat and put it in
+position, and then finished his undressing, while Antony went off
+to mark the eighteenth post.  When they were ready, they got into
+the boat, Antony taking the oars.
+
+"Now, Bill, tell me as soon as I'm in a line with your two
+marks."
+
+He rowed slowly towards the middle of the pond.
+
+"You're about there now," said Bill at last.
+
+Antony stopped rowing and looked about him.
+
+"Yes, that's pretty well right."  He turned the boat's nose round
+until it was pointing to the pine-tree under which Bill had lain.
+"You see my tree and the other coat?"
+
+"Yes," said Bill.
+
+"Right.  Now then, I'm going to row gently along this line until
+we're dead in between the two.  Get it as exact as you can--for
+your own sake."
+
+"Steady!" said Bill warningly.  "Back a little .... a little more
+.... a little more forward again ....  Right."  Antony left the
+oars on the water and looked around.  As far as he could tell,
+they were in an exact line with each pair of landmarks.
+
+"Now then, Bill, in you go."
+
+Bill pulled off his shirt and trousers, and stood up.
+
+"You mustn't dive from the boat, old boy," said Antony hastily.
+"You'll shift its position.  Slide in gently."
+
+Bill slid in from the stern and swam slowly round to Antony.
+
+"What's it like?" said Antony.
+
+"Cold.  Well, here's luck to it."
+
+He gave a sudden kick, flashed for a moment in the water, and was
+gone.  Antony steadied the boat, and took another look at his
+landmarks.
+
+Bill came up behind him with a loud explosion.  "It's pretty
+muddy," he protested.
+
+"Weeds?"
+
+"No, thank the Lord."
+
+"Well, try again."
+
+Bill gave another kick and disappeared.  Again Antony coaxed the
+boat back into position, and again Bill popped up, this time in
+front of him.
+
+"I feel that if I threw you a sardine," said Antony, with a
+smile, "you'd catch it in your mouth quite prettily."
+
+"It's awfully easy to be funny from where you are.  How much
+longer have I got to go on doing this?"
+
+Antony looked at his watch.
+
+"About three hours.  We must get back before daylight.  But be
+quicker if you can, because it's rather cold for me sitting
+here."
+
+Bill flicked a handful of water at him and disappeared again.  He
+was under for almost a minute this time, and there was a grin on
+his face when it was visible again.
+
+"I've got it, but it's devilish hard to get up.  I'm not sure
+that it isn't too heavy for me."
+
+"That's all right," said Antony.  He brought out a ball of thick
+string from his pocket.  "Get this through the handle if you can,
+and then we can both pull."
+
+"Good man."  He paddled to the side, took one end of the string
+and paddled back again.  "Now then."
+
+Two minutes later the bag was safely in the boat.  Bill clambered
+in after it, and Antony rowed back.  "Well done, Watson," he said
+quietly, as they landed.  He fetched their two coats, and then
+waited, the bag in his hand, while Bill dried and dressed
+himself.  As soon as the latter was ready, he took his arm and
+led him into the copse.  He put the bag down and felt in his
+pockets.
+
+"I shall light a pipe before I open it," he said.  "What about
+you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With great care they filled and lit their pipes.  Bill's hand was
+a little unsteady.  Antony noticed it and gave him a reassuring
+smile.
+
+"Ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+They sat down, and taking the bag between his knees, Antony
+pressed the catch and opened it.
+
+"Clothes!" said Bill.
+
+Antony pulled out the top garment and shook it out.  It was a wet
+brown flannel coat.
+
+"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
+
+"Mark's brown flannel suit."
+
+"The one he is advertised as having run away in?"
+
+"Yes.  It looks like it.  Of course he had a dashed lot of
+clothes."
+
+Antony put his hand in the breast-pocket and took out some
+letters.  He considered them doubtfully for a moment.
+
+"I suppose I'd better read them," he said.  "I mean, just to see
+--"  He looked inquiringly at Bill, who nodded.  Antony turned on
+his torch and glanced at them.  Bill waited anxiously.
+
+"Yes.  Mark .... Hallo!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The letter that Cayley was telling the Inspector about.  From
+Robert.  'Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you--'  Yes,
+I suppose I had better keep this.  Well, that's his coat.  Let's
+have out the rest of it."  He took the remaining clothes from the
+bag and spread them out.
+
+"They're all here," said Bill.  "Shirt, tie, socks, underclothes,
+shoes--yes, all of them."
+
+"All that he was wearing yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What do you make of it?"
+
+Bill shook his head, and asked another question.
+
+"Is it what you expected?"
+
+Antony laughed suddenly.
+
+"It's too absurd," he said.  "I expected--well, you know what I
+expected.  A body.  A body in a suit of clothes.  Well, perhaps
+it would be safer to hide them separately.  The body here, and
+the clothes in the passage, where they would never betray
+themselves.  And now he takes a great deal of trouble to hide the
+clothes here, and doesn't bother about the body at all."  He
+shook his head.  "I'm a bit lost for the moment, Bill, and that's
+the fact."
+
+"Anything else there?"
+
+Antony felt in the bag.
+
+"Stones and--yes, there's something else."  He took it out and
+held it up.  "There we are, Bill."
+
+It was the office key.
+
+"By Jove, you were right."
+
+Antony felt in the bag again, and then turned it gently upside
+down on the grass.  A dozen large stones fell out--and something
+else. He flashed down his torch.
+
+"Another key," he said.
+
+He put the two keys in his pocket, and sat there for a long time
+in silence, thinking.  Bill was silent, too, not liking to
+interrupt his thoughts, but at last he said:
+
+"Shall I put these things back?"
+
+Antony looked up with a start.
+
+"What?  Oh, yes.  No, I'll put them back.  You give me a light,
+will you?"
+
+Very slowly and carefully he put the clothes back in the bag,
+pausing as he took up each garment, in the certainty, as it
+seemed to Bill, that it had something to tell him if only he
+could read it. When the last of them was inside, he still waited
+there on his knees, thinking.
+
+"That's the lot," said Bill.
+
+Antony nodded at him.
+
+"Yes, that's the lot," he said; "and that's the funny thing about
+it.  You're sure it is the lot?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Give me the torch a moment."  He took it and flashed it over the
+ground between them.  "Yes, that's the lot.  It's funny."  He
+stood up, the bag in his hands.  "Now let's find a hiding-place
+for these, and then--"  He said no more, but stepped off through
+the trees, Bill following him meekly.
+
+As soon as they had got the bag off their hands and were clear of
+the copse, Antony became more communicative.  He took the two
+keys out of his pocket.
+
+"One of them is the office key, I suppose, and the other is the
+key of the passage cupboard.  So I thought that perhaps we might
+have a look at the cupboard."
+
+"I say, do you really think it is?"
+
+"Well, I don't see what else it can be."
+
+"But why should he want to throw it away?"
+
+"Because it has now done its work, whatever it was, and he wants
+to wash his hands of the passage.  He'd throw the passage away if
+he could.  I don't think it matters much one way or another, and
+I don't suppose there's anything to find in the cupboard, but I
+feel that we must look."
+
+"Do you still think Mark's body might be there?"
+
+"No.  And yet where else can it be?  Unless I'm hopelessly wrong,
+and Cayley never killed him at all."
+
+Bill hesitated, wondering if he dare advance his theory.
+
+"I know you'll think me an ass--"
+
+"My dear Bill, I'm such an obvious ass myself that I should be
+delighted to think you are too."
+
+"Well, then, suppose Mark did kill Robert, and Cayley helped him
+to escape, just as we thought at first.  I know you proved
+afterwards that it was impossible, but suppose it happened in a
+way we don't know about and for reasons we don't know about.  I
+mean, there are such a lot of funny things about the whole show
+that--well, almost anything might have happened."
+
+"You're quite right.  Well?"
+
+"Well, then, this clothes business.  Doesn't that seem rather to
+bear out the escaping theory?  Mark's brown suit was known to the
+police.  Couldn't Cayley have brought him another one in the
+passage, to escape in, and then have had the brown one on his
+hands?  And thought it safest to hide it in the pond?"
+
+"Yes," said Anthony thoughtfully.  Then: "Go on."
+
+Bill went on eagerly:
+
+"It all seems to fit in, you know.  I mean even with your first
+theory--that Mark killed him accidentally and then came to Cayley
+for help.  Of course, if Cayley had played fair, he'd have told
+Mark that he had nothing to be afraid of.  But he isn't playing
+fair; he wants to get Mark out of the way because of the girl.
+Well, this is his chance.  He makes Mark as frightened as
+possible, and tells him that his only hope is to run away.  Well,
+naturally, he does all he can to get him well away, because if
+Mark is caught, the whole story of Cayley's treachery comes out."
+
+"Yes.  But isn't it overdoing it rather to make him change his
+underclothes and everything?  It wastes a good deal of time, you
+know."
+
+Bill was pulled up short, and said, "Oh!" in great
+disappointment.
+
+"No, it's not as bad as that, Bill," said Antony with a smile.
+"I daresay the underclothes could be explained.  But here's the
+difficulty.  Why did Mark need to change from brown to blue, or
+whatever it was, when Cayley was the only person who saw him in
+brown?"
+
+"The police description of him says that he is in a brown suit."
+
+"Yes, because Cayley told the police.  You see, even if Mark had
+had lunch in his brown suit, and the servants had noticed it,
+Cayley could always have pretended that he had changed into blue
+after lunch, because only Cayley saw him afterwards.  So if
+Cayley had told the Inspector that he was wearing blue, Mark
+could have escaped quite comfortably in his brown, without
+needing to change at all."
+
+"But that's just what he did do," cried Bill triumphantly.  "What
+fools we are!"
+
+Antony looked at him in surprise, and then shook his head.
+
+"Yes, yes!" insisted Bill.  "Of course!  Don't you see?  Mark did
+change after lunch, and, to give him more of a chance of getting
+away, Cayley lied and said that he was wearing the brown suit in
+which the servants had seen him.  Well, then he was afraid that
+the police might examine Mark's clothes and find the brown suit
+still there, so he hid it, and then dropped it in the pond
+afterwards."
+
+He turned eagerly to his friend, but Antony said nothing.  Bill
+began to speak again, and was promptly waved into silence.
+
+"Don't say anything more, old boy; you've given me quite enough
+to think about.  Don't let's bother about it to-night.  We'll
+just have a look at this cupboard and then get to bed."
+
+But the cupboard had not much to tell them that night.  It was
+empty save for a few old bottles.
+
+"Well, that's that," said Bill.
+
+But Antony, on his knees with the torch in his hand, continued to
+search for something.
+
+"What are you looking for?" asked Bill at last.
+
+"Something that isn't there," said Antony, getting up and dusting
+his trousers.  And he locked the door again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Guess-work
+
+
+The inquest was at three o'clock; thereafter Antony could have no
+claim on the hospitality of the Red House.  By ten o'clock his
+bag was packed, and waiting to be taken to 'the George.'  To
+Bill, coming upstairs after a more prolonged breakfast, this
+early morning bustle was a little surprising.
+
+"What's the hurry?" he asked.
+
+"None.  But we don't want to come back here after the inquest.
+Get your packing over now and then we can have the morning to
+ourselves."
+
+"Righto."  He turned to go to his room, and then came back again.
+"I say, are we going to tell Cayley that we're staying at 'the
+George'?"
+
+"You're not staying at 'the George,' Bill.  Not officially.
+You're going back to London."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Yes.  Ask Cayley to have your luggage sent in to Stanton, ready
+for you when you catch a train there after the inquest.  You can
+tell him that you've got to see the Bishop of London at once.
+The fact that you are hurrying back to London to be confirmed
+will make it seem more natural that I should resume my
+interrupted solitude at 'the George' as soon as you have gone."
+
+"Then where do I sleep to-night?"
+
+"Officially, I suppose, in Fulham Place; unofficially, I suspect,
+in my bed, unless they've got another spare room at 'the George.'
+I've put your confirmation robe--I mean your pyjamas and brushes
+and things--in my bag, ready for you.  Is there anything else
+you want to know?  No?  Then go and pack.  And meet me at
+ten-thirty beneath the blasted oak or in the hall or somewhere. I
+want to talk and talk and talk, and I must have my Watson."
+
+"Good," said Bill, and went off to his room.
+
+An hour later, having communicated their official plans to
+Cayley, they wandered out together into the park.
+
+"Well?" said Bill, as they sat down underneath a convenient tree.
+"Talk away."
+
+"I had many bright thoughts in my bath this morning," began
+Antony. "The brightest one of all was that we were being damn
+fools, and working at this thing from the wrong end altogether."
+
+"Well, that's helpful."
+
+"Of course it's very hampering being a detective, when you don't
+know anything about detecting, and when nobody knows that you're
+doing detection, and you can't have people up to cross-examine
+them, and you have neither the energy nor the means to make
+proper inquiries; and, in short, when you're doing the whole
+thing in a thoroughly amateur, haphazard way."
+
+"For amateurs I don't think we're doing at all badly," protested
+Bill.
+
+"No; not for amateurs.  But if we had been professionals, I
+believe we should have gone at it from the other end.  The Robert
+end. We've been wondering about Mark and Cayley all the time.
+Now let's wonder about Robert for a bit."
+
+"We know so little about him."
+
+"Well, let's see what we do know.  First of all, then, we know
+vaguely that he was a bad lot--the sort of brother who is hushed
+up in front of other people."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We know that he announced his approaching arrival to Mark in a
+rather unpleasant letter, which I have in my pocket."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then we know rather a curious thing.  We know that Mark told
+you all that this black sheep was coming.  Now, why did he tell
+you?"
+
+Bill was thoughtful for a moment.
+
+"I suppose," he said slowly, "that he knew we were bound to see
+him, and thought that the best way was to be quite frank about
+him."
+
+"But were you bound to see him?  You were all away playing golf."
+
+"We were bound to see him if he stayed in the house that night."
+
+"Very well, then.  That's one thing we've discovered.  Mark knew
+that Robert was staying in the house that night.  Or shall we put
+it this way--he knew that there was no chance of getting Robert
+out of the house at once."
+
+Bill looked at his friend eagerly.
+
+"Go on," he said.  "This is getting interesting."
+
+"He also knew something else," went on Antony.  "He knew that
+Robert was bound to betray his real character to you as soon as
+you met him.  He couldn't pass him off on you as just a travelled
+brother from the Dominions, with perhaps a bit of an accent; he
+had to tell you at once, because you were bound to find out, that
+Robert was a wastrel."
+
+"Yes.  That's sound enough."
+
+"Well, now, doesn't it strike you that Mark made up his mind
+about all that rather quickly?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"He got this letter at breakfast.  He read it; and directly he
+had read it he began to confide in you all.  That is to say, in
+about one second he thought out the whole business and came to a
+decision--to two decisions.  He considered the possibility of
+getting Robert out of the way before you came back, and decided
+that it was impossible.  He considered the possibility of
+Robert's behaving like an ordinary decent person in public, and
+decided that it was very unlikely.  He came to those two
+decisions instantaneously, as he was reading the letter.  Isn't
+that rather quick work?"
+
+"Well, what's the explanation?"
+
+Antony waited until he had refilled and lighted his pipe before
+answering.
+
+"What's the explanation?  Well, let's leave it for a moment and
+take another look at the two brothers.  In conjunction, this
+time, with Mrs. Norbury."
+
+"Mrs. Norbury?" said Bill, surprised.
+
+"Yes.  Mark hoped to marry Miss Norbury.  Now, if Robert really
+was a blot upon the family honour, Mark would want to do one of
+two things.  Either keep it from the Norburys altogether, or
+else, if it had to come out, tell them himself before the news
+came to them indirectly.  Well, he told them.  But the funny
+thing is that he told them the day before Robert's letter came.
+Robert came, and was killed, the day before yesterday--Tuesday.
+Mark told Mrs. Norbury about him on Monday.  What do you make of
+that?"
+
+"Coincidence," said Bill, after careful thought.  "He'd always
+meant to tell her; his suit was prospering, and just before it
+was finally settled, he told her.  That happened to be Monday.
+On Tuesday he got Robert's letter, and felt jolly glad that he'd
+told her in time."
+
+"Well, it might be that, but it's rather a curious coincidence.
+And here is something which makes it very curious indeed.  It
+only occurred to me in the bath this morning.  Inspiring place, a
+bathroom.  Well, it's this--he told her on Monday morning, on his
+way to Middleston in the car."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well."
+
+"Sorry, Tony; I'm dense this morning."
+
+"In the car, Bill.  And how near can the car get to Jallands?"
+
+"About six hundred yards."
+
+"Yes.  And on his way to Middleston, on some business or other,
+Mark stops the car, walks six hundred yards down the hill to
+Jallands, says, 'Oh, by the way, Mrs. Norbury, I don't think I
+ever told you that I have a shady brother called Robert,' walks
+six hundred yards up the hill again, gets into the car, and goes
+off to Middleston.  Is that likely?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily.
+
+"Yes, but I don't see what you're getting at.  Likely or not
+likely, we know he did do it."
+
+"Of course he did.  All I mean is that he must have had some
+strong reason for telling Mrs. Norbury at once.  And the reason I
+suggest is that he knew on that morning--Monday morning, not
+Tuesday--that Robert was coming to see him, and had to be in
+first with the news.
+
+"But--but--"
+
+"And that would explain the other point--his instantaneous
+decision at breakfast to tell you all about his brother.  It
+wasn't instantaneous.  He knew on Monday that Robert was coming,
+and decided then that you would all have to know."
+
+"Then how do you explain the letter?"
+
+"Well, let's have a look at it."
+
+Antony took the letter from his pocket and spread it out on the
+grass between them.
+
+"Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all
+the way from Australia.  I give you warning, so that you will be
+able to conceal your surprise but not I hope your pleasure.
+Expect him at three or thereabouts."
+
+"No date mentioned, you see," said Antony.  "Just to-morrow."
+
+"But he got this on Tuesday."
+
+"Did he?"
+
+"Well, he read it out to us on Tuesday."
+
+"Oh, yes! he read it out to you."
+
+Bill read the letter again, and then turned it over and looked at
+the back of it.  The back of it had nothing to say to him.
+
+"What about the postmark?" he asked.
+
+"We haven't got the envelope, unfortunately."
+
+"And you think that he got this letter on Monday."
+
+"I'm inclined to think so, Bill.  Anyhow, I think--I feel almost
+certain--that he knew on Monday that his brother was coming."
+
+"Is that going to help us much?"
+
+"No.  It makes it more difficult.  There's something rather
+uncanny about it all.  I don't understand it."  He was silent for
+a little, and then added, "I wonder if the inquest is going to
+help us.
+
+"What about last night?  I'm longing to hear what you make of
+that.  Have you been thinking it out at all?"
+
+"Last night," said Antony thoughtfully to himself.  "Yes, last
+night wants some explaining."
+
+Bill waited hopefully for him to explain.  What, for instance,
+had Antony been looking for in the cupboard?
+
+"I think," began Antony slowly, "that after last night we must
+give up the idea that Mark has been killed; killed, I mean, by
+Cayley.  I don't believe anybody would go to so much trouble to
+hide a suit of clothes when he had a body on his hands.  The body
+would seem so much more important.  I think we may take it now
+that the clothes are all that Cayley had to hide."
+
+"But why not have kept them in the passage?"
+
+"He was frightened of the passage.  Miss Norris knew about it."
+
+"Well, then, in his own bedroom, or even, in Mark's.  For all you
+or I or anybody knew, Mark might have had two brown suits.  He
+probably had, I should think."
+
+"Probably.  But I doubt if that would reassure Cayley.  The brown
+suit hid a secret, and therefore the brown suit had to be hidden.
+We all know that in theory the safest hiding-place is the most
+obvious, but in practice very few people have the nerve to risk
+it."
+
+Bill looked rather disappointed.
+
+"Then we just come back to where we were," he complained.  "Mark
+killed his brother, and Cayley helped him to escape through the
+passage; either in order to compromise him, or because there was
+no other way out of it.  And he helped him by telling a lie about
+his brown suit."
+
+Antony smiled at him in genuine amusement.
+
+"Bad luck, Bill," he said sympathetically.  "There's only one
+murder, after all.  I'm awfully sorry about it.  It was my fault
+for--"
+
+"Shut up, you ass.  You know I didn't mean that."
+
+"Well, you seemed awfully disappointed."
+
+Bill said nothing for a little, and then with a sudden laugh
+confessed.
+
+"It was so exciting yesterday," he said apologetically, "and we
+seemed to be just getting there, and discovering the most
+wonderful things, and now--"
+
+"And now?"
+
+"Well, it's so much more ordinary."
+
+Antony gave a shout of laughter.
+
+"Ordinary!" he cried.  "Ordinary!  Well, I'm dashed!  Ordinary!
+If only one thing would happen in an ordinary way, we might do
+something, but everything is ridiculous."  Bill brightened up
+again.
+
+"Ridiculous?  How?"
+
+"Every way.  Take those ridiculous clothes we found last night.
+You can explain the brown suit, but why the under clothes.  You
+can explain the underclothes in some absurd way, if you like--you
+can say that Mark always changed his underclothes whenever he
+interviewed anybody from Australia--but why, in that case, my
+dear Watson, why didn't he change his collar?"
+
+"His collar?" said Bill in amazement.
+
+"His collar, Watson."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"And it's all so ordinary," scoffed Antony.
+
+"Sorry, Tony, I didn't mean that.  Tell me about the collar."
+
+"Well, that's all.  There was no collar in the bag last night.
+Shirt, socks, tie--everything except a collar.  Why?"
+
+"Was that what you were looking for in the cupboard?"  said Bill
+eagerly.
+
+"Of course.  'Why no collar?' I, said.  For some reason Cayley
+considered it necessary to hide all Mark's clothes; not just the
+suit, but everything which he was wearing, or supposed to be
+wearing, at the time of the murder.  But he hadn't hidden the
+collar.  Why?  Had he left it out by mistake?  So I looked in the
+cupboard.  It wasn't there.  Had he left it out on purpose?  If
+so, why?--and where was it?  Naturally I began to say to myself,
+'Where have I seen a collar lately?  A collar all by itself?'
+And I remembered--what, Bill?"
+
+Bill frowned heavily to himself, and shook his head.
+
+"Don't ask me, Tony.  I can't--By Jove!"  He threw up his head,
+"In the basket in the office bedroom!"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"But is that the one?"
+
+"The one that goes with the rest of the clothes?  I don't know.
+Where else can it be?  But if so, why send the collar quite
+casually to the wash in the ordinary way, and take immense
+trouble to hide everything else?  Why, why, why?"
+
+Bill bit hard at his pipe, but could think of nothing to say.
+
+"Anyhow," said Antony, getting up restlessly, "I'm certain of one
+thing.  Mark knew on the Monday that Robert was coming here."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+The Inquest
+
+
+The Coroner, having made a few commonplace remarks as to the
+terrible nature of the tragedy which they had come to investigate
+that afternoon, proceeded to outline the case to the jury.
+Witnesses would be called to identify the deceased as Robert
+Ablett, the brother of the owner of the Red House, Mark Ablett.
+It would be shown that he was something of a ne'er-do-well, who
+had spent most of his life in Australia, and that he had
+announced, in what might almost be called a threatening letter,
+his intention of visiting his brother that afternoon.  There
+would be evidence of his arrival, of his being shown into the
+scene of the tragedy--a room in the Red House, commonly called
+"the office"--and of his brother's entrance into that room.  The
+jury would have to form their own opinion as to what happened
+there.  But whatever happened, happened almost instantaneously.
+Within two minutes of Mark Ablett's entrance, as would be shown in
+the evidence, a shot was heard, and when--perhaps five minutes
+later--the room was forced open, the dead body of Robert Ablett
+was found stretched upon the floor.  As regards Mark Ablett,
+nobody had seen him from the moment of his going into the room,
+but evidence would be called to show that he had enough money on
+him at the time to take him to any other part of the country, and
+that a man answering to his description had been observed on the
+platform of Stanton station, apparently waiting to catch the 3.55
+up train to London.  As the jury would realize, such evidence of
+identity was not always reliable.  Missing men had a way of being
+seen in a dozen different places at once.  In any case, there was
+no doubt that for the moment Mark Ablett had disappeared.
+
+"Seems a sound man," whispered Antony to Bill.  "Doesn't talk too
+much."
+
+Antony did not expect to learn much from the evidence--he knew
+the facts of the case so well by now--but he wondered if
+Inspector Birch had developed any new theories.  If so, they
+would appear in the Coroner's examination, for the Coroner would
+certainly have been coached by the police as to the important
+facts to be extracted from each witness.  Bill was the first to
+be put through it.
+
+"Now, about this letter, Mr. Beverley?" he was asked when his
+chief evidence was over.  "Did you see it at all?"
+
+"I didn't see the actual writing.  I saw the back of it. Mark was
+holding it up when he told us about his brother."
+
+"You don't know what was in it, then?"
+
+Bill had a sudden shock.  He had read the letter only that
+morning.  He knew quite well what was in it.  But it wouldn't do
+to admit this.  And then, just as he was about to perjure
+himself, he remembered: Antony had heard Cayley telling the
+Inspector.
+
+"I knew afterwards.  I was told.  But Mark didn't read it out at
+breakfast."
+
+"You gathered, however, that it was an unwelcome letter?"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"Would you say that Mark was frightened by it?"
+
+"Not frightened.  Sort of bitter--and resigned.  Sort of 'Oh,
+Lord, here we are again!'"
+
+There was a titter here and there.  The Coroner smiled, and tried
+to pretend that he hadn't.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Beverley."
+
+The next witness was summoned by the name of Andrew Amos, and
+Antony looked up with interest, wondering who he was.
+
+"He lives at the inner lodge," whispered Bill to him.
+
+All that Amos had to say was that a stranger had passed by his
+lodge at a little before three that afternoon, and had spoken to
+him.  He had seen the body and recognized it as the man.
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"'Is this right for the Red House?' or something like that, sir."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I said, 'This is the Red House.  Who do you want to see?'  He
+was a bit rough-looking, you know, sir, and I didn't know what he
+was doing there."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, sir, he said, 'Is Mister Mark Ablett at home?'  It doesn't
+sound much put like that, sir, but I didn't care about the way he
+said it.  So I got in front of him like, and said, 'What do you
+want, eh?' and he gave a sort of chuckle and said, 'I want to see
+my dear brother Mark.'  Well, then I took a closer look at him,
+and I see that p'raps he might be his brother, so I said, 'If
+you'll follow the drive, sir, you'll come to the house.  Of
+course I can't say if Mr. Ablett's at home.'  And he gave a sort
+of nasty laugh again, and said, 'Fine place Mister Mark Ablett's
+got here.  Plenty of money to spend, eh?'  Well, then I had
+another look at him, sir, because gentlemen don't talk like that,
+and if he was Mr. Ablett's brother--but before I could make up my
+mind, he laughed and went on.  That's all I can tell you, sir."
+
+Andrew Amos stepped down and moved away to the back of the room,
+nor did Antony take his eyes off him until he was assured that
+Amos intended to remain there until the inquest was over.
+
+"Who's Amos talking to now?" he whispered to Bill.
+
+"Parsons.  One of the gardeners.  He's at the outside lodge on
+the Stanton road.  They're all here to-day.  Sort of holiday for
+'em.
+
+"I wonder if he's giving evidence too," thought Antony.  He was.
+He followed Amos.  He had been at work on the lawn in front of
+the house, and had seen Robert Ablett arrive.  He didn't hear the
+shot--not to notice.  He was a little hard of hearing.  He had
+seen a gentleman arrive about five minutes after Mr. Robert.
+
+"Can you see him in court now?" asked the Coroner.  Parsons
+looked round slowly.  Antony caught his eye and smiled.
+
+"That's him," said Parsons, pointing.
+
+Everybody looked at Antony.
+
+"That was about five minutes afterwards?"
+
+"About that, sir."
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house before this gentleman's
+arrival?"
+
+"No, sir.  That is to say I didn't see 'em."
+
+Stevens followed.  She gave her evidence much as she had given it
+to the Inspector.  Nothing new was brought out by her
+examination.  Then came Elsie.  As the reporters scribbled down
+what she had overheard, they added in brackets "Sensation" for
+the first time that afternoon.
+
+"How soon after you had heard this did the shot come?" asked the
+Coroner.
+
+"Almost at once, sir."
+
+"A minute?"
+
+"I couldn't really say, sir.  It was so quick."
+
+"Were you still in the hall?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir.  I was just outside Mrs. Stevens' room.  The
+housekeeper, sir."
+
+"You didn't think of going back to the hall to see what had
+happened?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir.  I just went in to Mrs. Stevens, and she said, 'Oh,
+what was that?' frightened-like.  And I said, 'That was in the
+house, Mrs. Stevens, that was.'  Just like something going off,
+it was."
+
+"Thank you," said the Coroner.
+
+There was another emotional disturbance in the room as Cayley
+went into the witness-box; not "Sensation" this time, but an
+eager and, as it seemed to Antony, sympathetic interest.  Now
+they were getting to grips with the drama.
+
+He gave his evidence carefully, unemotionally--the lies with the
+same slow deliberation as the truth.  Antony watched him
+intently, wondering what it was about him which had this odd sort
+of attractiveness.  For Antony, who knew that he was lying, and
+lying (as he believed) not for Mark's sake but his own, yet could
+not help sharing some of that general sympathy with him.
+
+"Was Mark ever in possession of a revolver?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"Not to my knowledge.  I think I should have known if he had
+been."
+
+"You were alone with him all that morning.  Did he talk about
+this visit of Robert's at all?"
+
+"I didn't see very much of him in the morning.  I was at work in
+my room, and outside, and so on.  We lunched together and he
+talked of it then a little."
+
+"In what terms?"
+
+"Well--" he hesitated, and then went on.  "I can't think of a
+better word than 'peevishly.'  Occasionally he said, 'What do you
+think he wants?' or 'Why couldn't he have stayed where he was?'
+or 'I don't like the tone of his letter.  Do you think he means
+trouble?'  He talked rather in that kind of way."
+
+"Did he express his surprise that his brother should be in
+England?"
+
+"I think he was always afraid that he would turn up one day."
+
+"Yes ....  You didn't hear any conversation between the brothers
+when they were in the office together?"
+
+"No.  I happened to go into the library just after Mark had gone
+in, and I was there all the time."
+
+"Was the library door open?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Did you see or hear the last witness at all?"
+
+"No."
+
+"If anybody had come out of the office while you were in the
+library, would you have heard it?"
+
+"I think so.  Unless they had come out very quietly on purpose."
+
+"Would you call Mark a hasty-tempered man?"
+
+Cayley considered this carefully before answering.
+
+"Hasty-tempered, yes," he said.  "But not violent-tempered."
+
+"Was he fairly athletic?  Active and quick?"
+
+"Active and quick, yes.  Not particularly strong."
+
+"Yes ....  One question more.  Was Mark in the habit of carrying
+any considerable sum of money about with him?"
+
+"Yes.  He always had one 100 pound note on him, and perhaps ten
+or twenty pounds as well."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Cayley."
+
+Cayley went back heavily to his seat.  "Damn it," said Antony to
+himself, "why do I like the fellow?"
+
+"Antony Gillingham!"
+
+Again the eager interest of the room could be felt.  Who was this
+stranger who had got mixed up in the business so mysteriously?
+
+Antony smiled at Bill and stepped up to give his evidence.
+
+He explained how he came to be staying at 'the George' at
+Waldheim, how he had heard that the Red House was in the
+neighbourhood, how he had walked over to see his friend Beverley,
+and had arrived just after the tragedy.  Thinking it over
+afterwards he was fairly certain that he had heard the shot, but
+it had not made any impression on him at the time.  He had come
+to the house from the Waldheim end and consequently had seen
+nothing of Robert Ablett, who had been a few minutes in front of
+him.  From this point his evidence coincided with Cayley's.
+
+"You and the last witness reached the French windows together and
+found them shut?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You pushed them in and came to the body.  Of course you had no
+idea whose body it was?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did Mr. Cayley say anything?"
+
+"He turned the body over, just so as to see the face, and when he
+saw it, he said, 'Thank God.'"
+
+Again the reporters wrote "Sensation."
+
+"Did you understand what he meant by that?"
+
+"I asked him who it was, and he said that it was Robert Ablett.
+Then he explained that he was afraid at first it was the cousin
+with whom he lived--Mark."
+
+"Yes.  Did he seem upset?"
+
+"Very much so at first.  Less when he found that it wasn't Mark."
+
+There was a sudden snigger from a nervous gentleman in the crowd
+at the back of the room, and the Coroner put on his glasses and
+stared sternly in the direction from which it came.  The nervous
+gentleman hastily decided that the time had come to do up his
+bootlace.  The Coroner put down his glasses and continued.
+
+"Did anybody come out of the house while you were coming up the
+drive?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Gillingham."
+
+He was followed by Inspector Birch.  The Inspector, realizing
+that this was his afternoon, and that the eyes of the world were
+upon him, produced a plan of the house and explained the
+situation of the different rooms.  The plan was then handed to
+the jury.
+
+Inspector Birch, so he told the world, had arrived at the Red
+House at 4.42 p.m. on the afternoon in question.  He had been
+received by Mr. Matthew Cayley, who had made a short statement to
+him, and he had then proceeded to examine the scene of the crime.
+The French windows had been forced from outside.  The door
+leading into the hall was locked; he had searched the room
+thoroughly and had found no trace of a key.  In the bedroom
+leading out of the office he had found an open window.  There
+were no marks on the window, but it was a low one, and, as he
+found from experiment, quite easy to step out of without touching
+it with the boots.  A few yards outside the window a shrubbery
+began.  There were no recent footmarks outside the window, but
+the ground was in a very hard condition owing to the absence of
+rain.  In the shrubbery, however, he found several twigs on the
+ground, recently broken off, together with other evidence that
+some body had been forcing its way through.  He had questioned
+everybody connected with the estate, and none of them had been
+into the shrubbery recently.  By forcing a way through the
+shrubbery it was possible for a person to make a detour of the
+house and get to the Stanton end of the park without ever being
+in sight of the house itself.
+
+He had made inquiries about the deceased.  Deceased had left for
+Australia some fifteen years ago, owing to some financial trouble
+at home.  Deceased was not well spoken of in the village from
+which he and his brother had come.  Deceased and his brother had
+never been on good terms, and the fact that Mark Ablett had come
+into money had been a cause of great bitterness between them.  It
+was shortly after this that Robert had left for Australia.
+
+He had made inquiries at Stanton station.  It had been market-day
+at Stanton and the station had been more full of arrivals than
+usual.  Nobody had particularly noticed the arrival of Robert
+Ablett; there had been a good many passengers by the 2.10 train
+that afternoon, the train by which Robert had undoubtedly come
+from London.  A witness, however, would state that he noticed a
+man resembling Mark Ablett at the station at 3.53 p.m. that
+afternoon, and this man caught the 3.55 up train to town.
+
+There was a pond in the grounds of the Red House.  He had dragged
+this, but without result ....
+
+Antony listened to him carelessly, thinking his own thoughts all
+the time.  Medical evidence followed, but there was nothing to be
+got from that.  He felt so close to the truth; at any moment
+something might give his brain the one little hint which it
+wanted.  Inspector Birch was just pursuing the ordinary.
+Whatever else this case was, it was not ordinary.  There was
+something uncanny about it.
+
+John Borden was giving evidence.  He was on the up platform
+seeing a friend off by the 3.55 on Tuesday afternoon.  He had
+noticed a man on the platform with coat collar turned up and a
+scarf round his chin.  He had wondered why the man should do this
+on such a hot day.  The man seemed to be trying to escape
+observation.  Directly the train came in, he hurried into a
+carriage.  And so on.
+
+"There's always a John Borden at every murder case," said Antony
+to himself.
+
+"Have you ever seen Mark Ablett?"
+
+"Once or twice, sir."
+
+"Was it he?"
+
+"I never really got a good look at him, sir, what with his collar
+turned up and the scarf and all.  But directly I heard of the sad
+affair, and that Mr. Ablett was missing, I said to Mrs. Borden,
+'Now I wonder if that was Mr. Ablett I saw at the station?'  So
+then we talked it over and decided that I ought to come and tell
+Inspector Birch.  It was just Mr. Ablett's height, sir."
+
+Antony went on with his thoughts ....
+
+The Coroner was summing up.  The jury, he said, had now heard all
+the evidence and would have to decide what had happened in that
+room between the two brothers.  How had the deceased met his
+death?  The medical evidence would probably satisfy them that
+Robert Ablett had died from the effects of a bullet-wound in the
+head.  Who had fired that bullet?  If Robert Ablett had fired it
+himself, no doubt they would bring in a verdict of suicide, but
+if this had been so, where was the revolver which had fired it,
+and what had become of Mark Ablett?  If they disbelieved in this
+possibility of suicide, what remained?  Accidental death,
+justifiable homicide, and murder.  Could the deceased have been
+killed accidentally?  It was possible, but then would Mark Ablett
+have run away?  The evidence that he had run away from the scene
+of the crime was strong.  His cousin had seen him go into the
+room, the servant Elsie Wood had heard him quarrelling with his
+brother in the room, the door had been locked from the inside,
+and there were signs that outside the open window some one had
+pushed his way very recently through the shrubbery.  Who, if not
+Mark?  They would have then to consider whether he would have run
+away if he had been guiltless of his brother's death.  No doubt
+innocent people lost their heads sometimes.  It was possible that
+if it were proved afterwards that Mark Ablett had shot his
+brother, it might also be proved that he was justified in so
+doing, and that when he ran away from his brother's corpse he had
+really nothing to fear at the hands of the Law.  In this
+connection he need hardly remind the jury that they were not the
+final tribunal, and that if they found Mark Ablett guilty of
+murder it would not prejudice his trial in any way if and when he
+was apprehended ....  The jury could consider their verdict.
+
+They considered it.  They announced that the deceased had died as
+the result of a bullet-wound, and that the bullet had been fired
+by his brother Mark Ablett.
+
+Bill turned round to Antony at his side.  But Antony was gone.
+Across the room he saw Andrew Amos and Parsons going out of the
+door together, and Antony was between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+Mr. Beverley is Tactful
+
+
+The inquest had been held at the "Lamb" at Stanton; at Stanton
+Robert Ablett was to be buried next day.  Bill waited about
+outside for his friend, wondering where he had gone.  Then,
+realizing that Cayley would be coming out to his car directly,
+and that a farewell talk with Cayley would be a little
+embarrassing, he wandered round to the yard at the back of the
+inn, lit a cigarette, and stood surveying a torn and
+weather-beaten poster on the stable wall.  "GRAND THEATRICAL
+ENTER" it announced, to take place on "Wednesday, Decem."  Bill
+smiled to himself as he looked at it, for the part of Joe, a
+loquacious postman, had been played by "William B. Beverl," as
+the remnants of the poster still maintained, and he had been much
+less loquacious than the author had intended, having forgotten
+his words completely, but it had all been great fun.  And then he
+stopped smiling, for there would be no more fun now at the Red
+House.
+
+"Sorry to keep you waiting," said the voice of Antony behind him.
+"My old friends Amos and Parsons insisted on giving me a drink."
+
+He slipped his hand into the crook of Bill's arm, and smiled
+happily at him.
+
+"Why were you so keen about them?" asked Bill a little
+resentfully.  "I couldn't think where on earth you had got to."
+
+Antony didn't say anything.  He was staring at the poster.
+
+"When did this happen?" he asked.
+
+"What?"
+
+Antony waved to the poster.
+
+"Oh, that?  Last Christmas.  It was rather fun."
+
+Antony began to laugh to himself.
+
+"Were you good?"
+
+"Rotten.  I don't profess to be an actor."
+
+"Mark good?"
+
+"Oh, rather.  He loves it."
+
+"Rev. Henry Stutters--Mr. Matthew Cay," read Antony.
+
+"Was that our friend Cayley?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Any good?"
+
+"Well, much better than I expected.  He wasn't keen, but Mark
+made him."
+
+"Miss Norris wasn't playing, I see."
+
+"My dear Tony, she's a professional.  Of course she wasn't."
+
+Antony laughed again.
+
+"A great success, was it?"
+
+"Oh, rather!"
+
+"I'm a fool, and a damned fool," Antony announced solemnly.  "And
+a damned fool," he said again under his breath, as he led Bill
+away from the poster, and out of the yard into the road.  "And a
+damned fool.  Even now--"  He broke off and then asked suddenly,
+"Did Mark ever have much trouble with his teeth?"
+
+"He went to his dentist a good deal.  But what on earth--"
+
+Antony laughed a third time.
+
+"What luck!" he chuckled.  "But how do you know?"
+
+"We go to the same man; Mark recommended him to me.  Cartwright,
+in Wimpole Street."
+
+"Cartwright in Wimpole Street," repeated Antony thoughtfully.
+"Yes, I can remember that.  Cartwright in Wimpole Street.  Did
+Cayley go to him too, by any chance?"
+
+"I expect so.  Oh, yes, I know he did.  But what on earth--"
+
+"What was Mark's general health like?  Did he see a doctor much?"
+
+"Hardly at all, I should think.  He did a lot of early morning
+exercises which were supposed to make him bright and cheerful at
+breakfast.  They didn't do that, but they seemed to keep him
+pretty fit.  Tony, I wish you'd--"
+
+Antony held up a hand and hushed him into silence.
+
+"One last question," he said.  "Was Mark fond of swimming?"
+
+"No, he hated it.  I don't believe he could swim.  Tony, are you
+mad, or am I?  Or is this a new game?"
+
+Antony squeezed his arm.
+
+"Dear old Bill," he said.  "It's a game.  What a game!  And the
+answer is Cartwright in Wimpole Street."
+
+They walked in silence for half a mile or so along the road to
+Waldheim.  Bill tried two or three times to get his friend to
+talk, but Antony had only grunted in reply.  He was just going to
+make another attempt, when Antony came to a sudden stop and
+turned to him anxiously.
+
+"I wonder if you'd do something for me," he said, looking at him
+with some doubt.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Well, it's really dashed important.  It's just the one thing I
+want now."
+
+Bill was suddenly enthusiastic again.
+
+"I say, have you really found it all out?"
+
+Antony nodded.
+
+"At least, I'm very nearly there, Bill.  There's just this one
+thing I want now.  It means your going back to Stanton.  Well, we
+haven't come far; it won't take you long.  Do you mind?"
+
+"My dear Holmes, I am at your service."
+
+Antony gave him a smile and was silent for a little, thinking.
+
+"Is there another inn at Stanton--fairly close to the station?"
+
+"The 'Plough and Horses'--just at the corner where the road goes
+up to the station--is that the one you mean?"
+
+"That would be the one.  I suppose you could do with a drink,
+couldn't you?"
+
+"Rather!" said Bill, with a grin.
+
+"Good.  Then have one at the 'Plough and Horses.'  Have two, if
+you like, and talk to the landlord, or landlady, or whoever
+serves you.  I want you to find out if anybody stayed there on
+Monday night."
+
+"Robert?" said Bill eagerly.
+
+"I didn't say Robert," said Antony, smiling.  "I just want you to
+find out if they had a visitor who slept there on Monday night.
+A stranger.  If so, then any particulars you can get of him,
+without letting the landlord know that you are interested--"
+
+"Leave it to me," broke in Bill.  "I know just what you want."
+
+"Don't assume that it was Robert--or anybody else.  Let them
+describe the man to you.  Don't influence them unconsciously by
+suggesting that he was short or tall, or anything of that sort.
+Just get them talking.  If it's the landlord, you'd better stand
+him a drink or two."
+
+"Right you are," said Bill confidently.  "Where do I meet you
+again?"
+
+"Probably at 'the George.'  If you get there before me, you can
+order dinner for eight o'clock.  Anyhow we'll meet at eight, if
+not before."
+
+"Good."  He nodded to Antony and strode off back to Stanton
+again.
+
+Antony stood watching him with a little smile at his enthusiasm.
+Then he looked round slowly, as if in search of something.
+Suddenly he saw what he wanted.  Twenty yards farther on a lane
+wandered off to the left, and there was a gate a little way up on
+the right-hand side of it.  Antony walked to the gate, filling
+his pipe as he went.  Then he lit his pipe, sat on the gate, and
+took his head in his hands.
+
+"Now then," he said to himself, "let's begin at the beginning."
+
+It was nearly eight o'clock when William Beverley, the famous
+sleuth-hound, arrived, tired and dusty, at 'the George,' to find
+Antony, cool and clean, standing bare-headed at the door, waiting
+for him.
+
+"Is dinner ready?" were Bill's first words.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I'll just have a wash.  Lord, I'm tired."
+
+"I never ought to have asked you," said Antony penitently.
+
+"That's all right.  I shan't be a moment."  Half-way up the
+stairs he turned round and asked, "Am I in your room?"
+
+"Yes.  Do you know the way?"
+
+"Yes.  Start carving, will you?  And order lots of beer."  He
+disappeared round the top of the staircase.  Antony went slowly
+in.
+
+When the first edge of his appetite had worn off, and he was able
+to spare a little time between the mouthfuls, Bill gave an
+account of his adventures.  The landlord of the "Plough and
+Horses" had been sticky, decidedly sticky--Bill had been unable
+at first to get anything out of him.  But Bill had been tactful;
+lorblessyou, how tactful he had been.
+
+"He kept on about the inquest, and what a queer affair it had
+been, and so on, and how there'd been an inquest in his wife's
+family once, which he seemed rather proud about, and I kept
+saying, 'Pretty busy, I suppose, just now, what?' and then he'd
+say, 'Middlin',' and go on again about Susan--that was the one
+that had the inquest--he talked about it as if it were a disease
+--and then I'd try again, and say, 'Slack times, I expect, just
+now, eh?' and he'd say 'Middlin' again, and then it was time to
+offer him another drink, and I didn't seem to be getting much
+nearer.  But I got him at last.  I asked him if he knew John
+Borden--he was the man who said he'd seen Mark at the station.
+Well, he knew all about Borden, and after he'd told me all about
+Borden's wife's family, and how one of them had been burnt to
+death--after you with the beer; thanks--well, then I said
+carelessly that it must be very hard to remember anybody whom you
+had just seen once, so as to identify him afterwards, and he
+agreed that it would be 'middlin' hard,' and then--"
+
+"Give me three guesses," interrupted Antony.  "You asked him if
+he remembered everybody who came to his inn?"
+
+"That's it.  Bright, wasn't it?"
+
+"Brilliant.  And what was the result?"
+
+"The result was a woman."
+
+"A woman?" said Antony eagerly.
+
+"A woman," said Bill impressively.  "Of course I thought it was
+going to be Robert--so did you, didn't you?--but it wasn't.  It
+was a woman.  Came quite late on Monday night in a car--driving
+herself--went off early next morning."
+
+"Did he describe her?"
+
+"Yes.  She was middlin'.  Middlin' tall, middlin' age, middlin'
+colour, and so on.  Doesn't help much, does it?  But still--a
+woman.  Does that upset your theory?"
+
+Antony shook his head.
+
+"No, Bill, not at all," he said.
+
+"You knew all the time?  At least, you guessed?"
+
+"Wait till to-morrow.  I'll tell you everything to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow!" said Bill in great disappointment.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you one thing to-night, if you'll promise not to
+ask any more questions.  But you probably know it already."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Only that Mark Ablett did not kill his brother."
+
+"And Cayley did?"
+
+"That's another question, Bill.  However, the answer is that
+Cayley didn't, either."
+
+"Then who on earth--"
+
+"Have some more beer," said Antony with a smile.  And Bill had to
+be content with that.
+
+They were early to bed that evening, for both of them were tired.
+Bill slept loudly and defiantly, but Antony lay awake, wondering.
+What was happening at the Red House now?  Perhaps he would hear
+in the morning; perhaps he would get a letter.  He went over the
+whole story again from the beginning--was there any possibility
+of a mistake?  What would the police do?  Would they ever find
+out?  Ought he to have told them?  Well, let them find out; it
+was their job.  Surely he couldn't have made a mistake this time.
+No good wondering now; he would know definitely in the morning.
+
+In the morning there was a letter for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+Cayley's Apology
+
+"My Dear Mr. Gillingham,
+
+"I gather from your letter that you have made certain discoveries
+which you may feel it your duty to communicate to the police, and
+that in this case my arrest on a charge of murder would
+inevitably follow.  Why, in these circumstances, you should give
+me such ample warning of your intentions I do not understand,
+unless it is that you are not wholly out of sympathy with me.
+But whether or not you sympathize, at any rate you will want to
+know--and I want you to know--the exact manner in which Ablett
+met his death and the reasons which made that death necessary.
+If the police have to be told anything, I would rather that they
+too knew the whole story.  They, and even you, may call it
+murder, but by that time I shall be out of the way.  Let them
+call it what they like.
+
+"I must begin by taking you back to a summer day fifteen years
+ago, when I was a boy of thirteen and Mark a young man of
+twenty-five.  His whole life was make-believe, and just now he
+was pretending to be a philanthropist.  He sat in our little
+drawing-room, flicking his gloves against the back of his left
+hand, and my mother, good soul, thought what a noble young
+gentleman he was, and Philip and I, hastily washed and crammed
+into collars, stood in front of him, nudging each other and
+kicking the backs of our heels and cursing him in our hearts for
+having interrupted our game.  He had decided to adopt one of us,
+kind Cousin Mark.  Heaven knows why he chose me.  Philip was
+eleven; two years longer to wait.  Perhaps that was why.
+
+"Well, Mark educated me.  I went to a public school and to
+Cambridge, and I became his secretary.  Well, much more than his
+secretary as your friend Beverley perhaps has told you: his land
+agent, his financial adviser, his courier, his--but this most of
+all--his audience.  Mark could never live alone.  There must
+always be somebody to listen to him.  I think in his heart he
+hoped I should be his Boswell.  He told me one day that he had
+made me his literary executor--poor devil.  And he used to write
+me the absurdest long letters when I was away from him, letters
+which I read once and then tore up.  The futility of the man!
+
+"It was three years ago that Philip got into trouble.  He had
+been hurried through a cheap grammar school and into a London
+office, and discovered there that there was not much fun to be
+got in this world on two pounds a week.  I had a frantic letter
+from him one day, saying that he must have a hundred at once, or
+he would be ruined, and I went to Mark for the money.  Only to
+borrow it, you understand; he gave me a good salary and I could
+have paid it back in three months.  But no.  He saw nothing for
+himself in it, I suppose; no applause, no admiration.  Philip's
+gratitude would be to me, not to him.  I begged, I threatened, we
+argued; and while we were arguing, Philip was arrested.  It
+killed my mother--he was always her favourite--but Mark, as
+usual, got his satisfaction out of it.  He preened himself on his
+judgment of character in having chosen me and not Philip twelve
+years before!
+
+"Later on I apologized to Mark for the reckless things I had said
+to him, and he played the part of a magnanimous gentleman with
+his accustomed skill, but, though outwardly we were as before to
+each other, from that day forward, though his vanity would never
+let him see it, I was his bitterest enemy.  If that had been all,
+I wonder if I should have killed him?  To live on terms of
+intimate friendship with a man whom you hate is dangerous work
+for your friend.  Because of his belief in me as his admiring and
+grateful protege and his belief in himself as my benefactor, he
+was now utterly in my power. I could take my time and choose my
+opportunity.  Perhaps I should not have killed him, but I had
+sworn to have my revenge--and there he was, poor vain fool, at my
+mercy.  I was in no hurry.
+
+"Two years later I had to reconsider my position, for my revenge
+was being taken out of my hands.  Mark began to drink.  Could I
+have stopped him?  I don't think so, but to my immense surprise I
+found myself trying to.  Instinct, perhaps, getting the better of
+reason; or did I reason it out and tell myself that, if he drank
+himself to death, I should lose my revenge?  Upon my word, I
+cannot tell you; but, for whatever motive, I did genuinely want
+to stop it.  Drinking is such a beastly thing, anyhow.
+
+"I could not stop him, but I kept him within certain bounds, so
+that nobody but myself knew his secret.  Yes, I kept him
+outwardly decent; and perhaps now I was becoming like the
+cannibal who keeps his victim in good condition for his own ends.
+I used to gloat over Mark, thinking how utterly he was mine to
+ruin as I pleased, financially, morally, whatever way would give
+me most satisfaction.  I had but to take my hand away from him
+and he sank.  But again I was in no hurry.
+
+"Then he killed himself.  That futile little drunkard, eaten up
+with his own selfishness and vanity, offered his beastliness to
+the truest and purest woman on this earth.  You have seen her,
+Mr. Gillingham, but you never knew Mark Ablett.  Even if he had
+not been a drunkard, there was no chance for her of happiness
+with him.  I had known him for many years, but never once had I
+seen him moved by any generous emotion.  To have lived with that
+shrivelled little soul would have been hell for her; and a
+thousand times worse hell when he began to drink.
+
+"So he had to be killed.  I was the only one left to protect her,
+for her mother was in league with Mark to bring about her ruin.
+I would have shot him openly for her sake, and with what
+gladness, but I had no mind to sacrifice myself needlessly.  He
+was in my power; I could persuade him to almost anything by
+flattery; surely it would not be difficult to give his death the
+appearance of an accident.
+
+"I need not take up your time by telling you of the many plans I
+made and rejected.  For some days I inclined towards an
+unfortunate boating accident in the pond--Mark, a very
+indifferent swimmer, myself almost exhausted in a gallant attempt
+to hold him up.  And then he himself gave me the idea, he and
+Miss Norris between them, and so put himself in my hands; without
+risk of discovery, I should have said, had you not discovered me.
+
+"We were talking about ghosts.  Mark had been even more vain,
+pompous and absurd than usual, and I could see that Miss Norris
+was irritated by it.  After dinner she suggested dressing up as a
+ghost and frightening him.  I thought it my duty to warn her that
+Mark took any joke against himself badly, but she was determined
+to do it.  I gave way reluctantly.  Reluctantly, also, I told her
+the secret of the passage.  (There is an underground passage from
+the library to the bowling-green.  You should exercise your
+ingenuity, Mr. Gillingham, in trying to discover it.  Mark came
+upon it by accident a year ago.  It was a godsend to him; he
+could drink there in greater secrecy.  But he had to tell me
+about it.  He wanted an audience, even for his vices.)
+
+"I told Miss Norris, then, because it was necessary for my plan
+that Mark should be thoroughly frightened.  Without the passage
+she could never have got close enough to the bowling-green to
+alarm him properly, but as I arranged it with her she made the
+most effective appearance, and Mark was in just the state of rage
+and vindictiveness which I required.  Miss Norris, you
+understand, is a professional actress.  I need not say that to
+her I appeared to be animated by no other feeling than a boyish
+desire to bring off a good joke--a joke directed as much against
+the others as against Mark.
+
+"He came to me that night, as I expected, still quivering with
+indignation.  Miss Norris must never be asked to the house again;
+I was to make a special note of it; never again.  It was
+outrageous.  Had he not a reputation as a host to keep up, he
+would pack her off next morning.  As it was, she could stay;
+hospitality demanded it; but never again would she come to the
+Red House--he was absolutely determined about that.  I was to
+make a special note of it.
+
+"I comforted him, I smoothed down his ruffled feathers.  She had
+behaved very badly, but he was quite right; he must try not to
+show how much he disapproved of her.  And of course she would
+never come again--that was obvious.  And then suddenly I began to
+laugh.  He looked up at me indignantly.
+
+"'Is there a joke?" he said coldly.
+
+"I laughed gently again.
+
+"'I was just thinking,' I said, 'that it would be rather amusing
+if you--well, had your revenge."
+
+"'My revenge?  How do you mean?'
+
+"'Well, paid her back in her own coin.'
+
+"'Do you mean try and frighten her?'
+
+"'No, no; but dressed up and pulled her leg a bit.  Made her look
+a fool in front of the others.'  I laughed to myself again.
+'Serve her jolly well right.'
+
+"He jumped up excitedly.
+
+"'By Jove, Cay!' he cried.  'If I could!  How?  You must think of
+a way.
+
+"I don't know if Beverley has told you about Mark's acting.  He
+was an amateur of all the arts, and vain of his little talents,
+but as an actor he seemed to himself most wonderful.  Certainly
+he had some ability for the stage, so long as he had the stage to
+himself and was playing to an admiring audience.  As a
+professional actor in a small part he would have been hopeless;
+as an amateur playing the leading part, he deserved all that the
+local papers had ever said about him.  And so the idea of giving
+us a private performance, directed against a professional actress
+who had made fun of him, appealed equally to his vanity and his
+desire for retaliation.  If he, Mark Ablett, by his wonderful
+acting could make Ruth Norris look a fool in front of the others,
+could take her in, and then join in the laugh at her afterwards,
+he would indeed have had a worthy revenge!
+
+"It strikes you as childish, Mr. Gillingham?   Ah, you never knew
+Mark Ablett.
+
+"'How, Cay, how?' he said eagerly.
+
+"'Well, I haven't really thought it out,' I protested.  'It was
+just an idea.'
+
+"He began to think it out for himself.
+
+"'I might pretend to be a manager, come down to see her--but I
+suppose she knows them all.  What about an interviewer?'
+
+"'It's going to be difficult,' I said thoughtfully.  'You've got
+rather a characteristic face, you know.  And your beard--'
+
+"'I'd shave it off,' he snapped.
+
+"'My dear Mark!'
+
+"He looked away, and mumbled, 'I've been thinking of taking it
+off, anyhow.  And besides, if I'm going to do the thing, I'm
+going to do it properly.'
+
+ "'Yes, you always were an artist,' I said, looking at him
+admiringly.
+
+"He purred.  To be called an artist was what he longed for most.
+Now I knew that I had him.
+
+"'All the same,' I went on, 'even without your beard and
+moustache you might be recognizable.  Unless, of course--'  I
+broke off.
+
+"'Unless what?'
+
+"'You pretend to be Robert.'  I began to laugh to myself again.
+'By Jove!' I said, 'that's not a bad idea.  Pretend to be Robert,
+the wastrel brother, and make yourself objectionable to Miss
+Norris. Borrow money from her, and that sort of thing.'
+
+"He looked at me, with his bright little eyes, nodding eagerly.
+
+"'Robert,' he said.  'Yes.  How shall we work it?'
+
+"There was really a Robert, Mr. Gillingham, as I have no doubt
+you and the Inspector both discovered.  And he was a wastrel and
+he went to Australia.  But he never came to the Red House on
+Tuesday afternoon.  He couldn't have, because he died
+(unlamented) three years ago.  But there was nobody who knew
+this, save Mark and myself, for Mark was the only one of the
+family left, his sister having died last year.  Though I doubt,
+anyhow, if she knew whether Robert was alive or dead.  He was not
+talked about.
+
+"For the next two days Mark and I worked out our plans.  You
+understand by now that our aims were not identical.  Mark's
+endeavour was that his deception should last for, say, a couple
+of hours; mine that it should go to the grave with him.  He had
+only to deceive Miss Norris and the other guests; I had to
+deceive the world.  When he was dressed up as Robert, I was going
+to kill him.  Robert would then be dead, Mark (of course)
+missing.  What could anybody think but that Mark had killed
+Robert?  But you see how important it was for Mark to enter fully
+into his latest (and last) impersonation.  Half-measures would be
+fatal.
+
+"You will say that it was impossible so do the thing thoroughly
+enough.  I answer again that you never knew Mark.  He was being
+what he wished most to be--an artist.  No Othello ever blacked
+himself all over with such enthusiasm as did Mark.  His beard was
+going anyhow--possible a chance remark of Miss Norbury's helped
+here. She did not like beards.  But it was important for me that
+the dead man's hands should not be the hands of a manicured
+gentleman.  Five minutes playing upon the vanity of the artist
+settled his hands.  He let the nails grow and then cut them
+raggedly.  'Miss Norris would notice your hands at once,' I had
+said.  'Besides, as an artist--'
+
+"So with his underclothes.  It was hardly necessary to warn him
+that his pants might show above the edge of his socks; as an
+artist he had already decided upon Robertian pants.  I bought
+them, and other things, in London for him.  Even if I had not cut
+out all trace of the maker's name, he would instinctively have
+done it.  As an Australian and an artist, he could not have an
+East London address on his underclothes.  Yes, we were doing the
+thing thoroughly, both of us; he as an artist, I as a--well, you
+may say murderer, if you like.  I shall not mind now.
+
+"Our plans were settled.  I went to London on the Monday and
+wrote him a letter from Robert.  (The artistic touch again.)  I
+also bought a revolver.  On the Tuesday morning he announced
+the arrival of Robert at the breakfast-table.  Robert was now alive
+--we had six witnesses to prove it; six witnesses who knew that he
+was coming that afternoon.  Our private plan was that Robert
+should present himself at three o'clock, in readiness for the
+return of the golfing-party shortly afterwards.  The maid would
+go to look for Mark, and having failed to find him, come back to
+the office to find me entertaining Robert in Mark's absence.  I
+would explain that Mark must have gone out somewhere, and would
+myself introduce the wastrel brother to the tea-table.  Mark's
+absence would not excite any comment, for it would be generally
+felt--indeed Robert would suggest it--that he had been afraid of
+meeting his brother.  Then Robert would make himself amusingly
+offensive to the guests, particularly, of course, Miss Norris,
+until he thought that the joke had gone far enough.
+
+"That was our private plan.  Perhaps I should say that it was
+Mark's private plan.  My own was different.
+
+"The announcement at breakfast went well.  After the
+golfing-party had gone off, we had the morning in which to
+complete our arrangements.  What I was chiefly concerned about
+was to establish as completely as possible the identity of
+Robert.  For this reason I suggested to Mark that, when dressed,
+he should go out by the secret passage to the bowling-green, and
+come back by the drive, taking care to enter into conversation
+with the lodge-keeper.  In this way I would have two more
+witnesses of Robert's arrival--first the lodge-keeper, and
+secondly one of the gardeners whom I would have working on the
+front lawn.  Mark, of course, was willing enough. He could
+practise his Australian accent on the lodge-keeper.  It was
+really amusing to see how readily he fell into every suggestion
+which I made.  Never was a killing more carefully planned by its
+victim.
+
+"He changed into Robert's clothes in the office bedroom.  This
+was the safest way--for both of us.  When he was ready, he called
+me in, and I inspected him.  It was extraordinary how well he
+looked the part.  I suppose that the signs of his dissipation had
+already marked themselves on, his face, but had been concealed
+hitherto by his moustache and beard; for now that he was
+clean-shaven they lay open to the world from which we had so
+carefully hidden them, and he was indeed the wastrel which he was
+pretending to be.
+
+"'By Jove, you're wonderful,' I said.
+
+"He smirked, and called my attention to the various artistic
+touches which I might have missed.
+
+"'Wonderful,' I said to myself again.  'Nobody could possibly
+guess.'
+
+"I peered into the hall.  It was empty.  We hurried across to the
+library; he got into the passage and made off.  I went back to
+the bedroom, collected all his discarded clothes, did them up in
+a bundle and returned with them to the passage.  Then I sat down
+in the hall and waited.
+
+"You heard the evidence of Stevens, the maid.  As soon as she was
+on her way to the Temple in search of Mark, I stepped into the
+office.  My hand was in my side-pocket, and in my hand was the
+revolver.
+
+"He began at once in his character of Robert--some rigmarole
+about working his passage over from Australia; a little private
+performance for my edification.  Then in his natural voice,
+gloating over his well-planned retaliation on Miss Norris, he
+burst out, 'It's my turn now.  You wait.'  It was this which
+Elsie heard.  She had no business to be there and she might have
+ruined everything, but as it turned out it was the luckiest thing
+which could have happened.  For it was the one piece of evidence
+which I wanted; evidence, other than my own, that Mark and Robert
+were in the room together.
+
+"I said nothing.  I was not going to take the risk of being heard
+to speak in that room.  I just smiled at the poor little fool,
+and took out my revolver, and shot him.  Then I went back into
+the library and waited--just as I said in my evidence.
+
+"Can you imagine, Mr. Gillingham, the shock which your sudden
+appearance gave me?  Can you imagine the feelings of a 'murderer'
+who has (as he thinks) planned for every possibility, and is then
+confronted suddenly with an utterly new problem?  What difference
+would your coming make?  I didn't know.  Perhaps none; perhaps
+all.  And I had forgotten to open the window!
+
+"I don't know whether you will think my plan for killing Mark a
+clever one.  Perhaps not.  But if I do deserve any praise in the
+matter, I think I deserve it for the way I pulled myself together
+in the face of the unexpected catastrophe of your arrival.  Yes,
+I got a window open, Mr. Gillingham, under your very nose; the
+right window too, you were kind enough to say.  And the keys
+--yes, that was clever of you, but I think I was cleverer.  I
+deceived you over the keys, Mr. Gillingham, as I learnt when I
+took the liberty of listening to a conversation on the
+bowling-green between you and your friend Beverley.  Where was I?
+Ah, you must have a look for that secret passage, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"But what am I saying?  Did I deceive you at all?  You have found
+out the secret--that Robert was Mark--and that is all that
+matters.  How have you found out?  I shall never know now.  Where
+did I go wrong?  Perhaps you have been deceiving me all the time.
+Perhaps you knew about the keys, about the window, even about the
+secret passage.  You are a clever man, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+"I had Mark's clothes on my hands.  I might have left them in the
+passage, but the secret of the passage was now out.  Miss Norris
+knew it.  That was the weak point of my plan, perhaps, that Miss
+Norris had to know it.  So I hid them in the pond, the Inspector
+having obligingly dragged it for me first.  A couple of keys
+joined them, but I kept the revolver.  Fortunate, wasn't it, Mr.
+Gillingham?
+
+"I don't think that there is any more to tell you.  This is a
+long letter, but then it is the last which I shall write.  There
+was a time when I hoped that there might be a happy future for
+me, not at the Red House, not alone.  Perhaps it was never more
+than an idle day-dream, for I am no more worthy of her than Mark
+was.  But I could have made her happy, Mr. Gillingham.  God, how
+I would have worked to make her happy!  But now that is
+impossible.  To offer her the hand of a murderer would be as bad
+as to offer her the hand of a drunkard.  And Mark died for that.
+I saw her this morning.  She was very sweet.  It is a difficult
+world to understand.
+
+"Well, well, we are all gone now--the Abletts and the Cayleys.  I
+wonder what old Grandfather Cayley thinks of it all.  Perhaps it
+is as well that we have died out.  Not that there was anything
+wrong with Sarah--except her temper.  And she had the Ablett
+nose--you can't do much with that.  I'm glad she left no
+children.
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.  I'm sorry that your stay with us was
+not of a pleasanter nature, but you understand the difficulties
+in which I was placed.  Don't let Bill think too badly of me.  He
+is a good fellow; look after him.  He will he surprised.  The
+young are always surprised.  And thank you for letting me end my
+own way.  I expect you did sympathize a little, you know.  We
+might have been friends in another world--you and I, and I and
+she.  Tell her what you like.  Everything or nothing.  You will
+know what is best. Good-bye, Mr. Gillingham.
+
+                                                 "MATTHEW CAYLEY.
+
+"I am lonely to-night without Mark.  That's funny, isn't it?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+Mr. Beverley Moves On
+
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill, as he put down the letter.
+
+"I thought you'd say that," murmured Antony.
+
+"Tony, do you mean to say that you knew all this?"
+
+"I guessed some of it.  I didn't quite know all of it, of
+course."
+
+"Good Lord!" said Bill again, and returned to the letter.  In a
+moment he was looking up again.  "What did you write to him?  Was
+that last night?  After I'd gone into Stanton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did you say?  That you'd discovered that Mark was Robert?"
+
+"Yes.  At least I said that this morning I should probably
+telegraph to Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street, and ask him to--"
+
+Bill burst in eagerly on the top of the sentence.  "Yes, now what
+was all that about?  You were so damn Sherlocky yesterday all of
+a sudden.  We'd been doing the thing together all the time, and
+you'd been telling me everything, and then suddenly you become
+very mysterious and private and talk enigmatically--is that the
+word?--about dentists and swimming and the 'Plough and Horses,'
+and--well, what was it all about?  You simply vanished out of
+sight; I didn't know what on earth we were talking about."
+
+Antony laughed and apologized.
+
+"Sorry, Bill.  I felt like that suddenly.  Just for the last
+half-hour; just to end up with.  I'll tell you everything now.
+Not that there's anything to tell, really.  It seems so easy when
+you know it--so obvious.  About Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street.
+Of course he was just to identify the body."
+
+"But whatever made you think of a dentist for that?"
+
+"Who could do it better?  Could you have done it?  How could you?
+You'd never gone bathing with Mark; you'd never seen him
+stripped.  He didn't swim.  Could his doctor do it?  Not unless
+he'd had some particular operation, and perhaps not then.  But
+his dentists could--at any time, always--if he had been to his
+dentist fairly often.  Hence Mr. Cartwright of Wimpole Street."
+
+Bill nodded thoughtfully and went back again to the letter.
+
+"I see.  And you told Cayley that you were telegraphing to
+Cartwright to identify the body?"
+
+"Yes.  And then of course it was all up for him.  Once we knew
+that Robert was Mark we knew everything."
+
+"How did you know?"
+
+Antony got up from the breakfast table and began to fill his
+pipe.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can say, Bill.  You know those problems in
+Algebra where you say, 'Let x be the answer,' and then you work
+it out and find what x is.  Well, that's one way; and another
+way, which they never give you any marks for at school, is to
+guess the answer.  Pretend the answer is 4--well, will that
+satisfy the conditions of the problem?  No.  Then try 6; and if 6
+doesn't either, then what about 5?--and so on.  Well, the
+Inspector and the Coroner and all that lot had guessed their
+answer, and it seemed to fit, but you and I knew it didn't really
+fit; there were several conditions in the problem which it didn't
+fit at all.  So we knew that their answer was wrong, and we had
+to think of another--an answer which explained all the things
+which were puzzling us.  Well, I happened to guess the right one.
+Got a match?"
+
+Bill handed him a box, and he lit his pipe.
+
+"Yes, but that doesn't quite do, old boy.  Something must have
+put you on to it suddenly.  By the way, I'll have my matches
+back, if you don't mind."
+
+Antony laughed and took them out of his pocket.
+
+"Sorry ....  Well then, let's see if I can go through my own mind
+again, and tell you how I guessed it.  First of all, the
+clothes."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"To Cayley the clothes seemed an enormously important clue.  I
+didn't quite see why, but I did realize that to a man in Cayley's
+position the smallest clue would have an entirely
+disproportionate value.  For some reason, then, Cayley attached
+this exaggerated importance to the clothes which Mark was wearing
+on that Tuesday morning; all the clothes, the inside ones as well
+as the outside ones.  I didn't know why, but I did feel certain
+that, in that case, the absence of the collar was unintentional.
+In collecting the clothes he had overlooked the collar.  Why?"
+
+"It was the one in the linen-basket?"
+
+"Yes.  It seemed probable.  Why had Cayley put it there?  The
+obvious answer was that he hadn't.  Mark had put it there.  I
+remembered what you told me about Mark being finicky, and having
+lots of clothes and so on, and I felt that he was just the sort
+of man who would never wear the same collar twice."  He paused,
+and then asked, "Is that right, do you think?"
+
+"Absolutely," said Bill with conviction.
+
+"Well, I guessed it was.  So then I began to see an x which would
+fit just this part of the problem--the clothes part.  I saw Mark
+changing his clothes; I saw him instinctively dropping the collar
+in the linen-basket, just as he had always dropped every collar
+he had ever taken off, but leaving the rest of the clothes on a
+chair in the ordinary way; and I saw Cayley collecting all the
+clothes afterwards--all the visible clothes--and not realizing
+that the collar wasn't there."
+
+"Go on," said Bill eagerly.
+
+"Well, I felt pretty sure about that, and I wanted an explanation
+of it.  Why had Mark changed down there instead of in his
+bedroom?  The only answer was that the fact of his changing had
+to be kept secret.  When did he change?  The only possible time
+was between lunch (when he would be seen by the servants) and the
+moment of Robert's arrival.  And when did Cayley collect the
+clothes in a bundle?  Again, the only answer was 'Before Robert's
+arrival.'  So another x was wanted--to fit those three
+conditions."
+
+"And the answer was that a murder was intended, even before
+Robert arrived?"
+
+"Yes.  Well now, it couldn't be intended on the strength of that
+letter, unless there was very much more behind the letter than we
+knew.  Nor was it possible a murder could be intended without any
+more preparation than the changing into a different suit in which
+to escape.  The thing was too childish.  Also, if Robert was to
+be murdered, why go out of the way to announce his existence to
+you all--even, at the cost of some trouble, to Mrs. Norbury?
+What did it all mean?  I didn't know.  But I began to feel now
+that Robert was an incident only; that the plot was a plot of
+Cayley's against Mark--either to get him to kill his brother, or
+to get his brother to kill him--and that for some inexplicable
+reason Mark seemed to be lending himself to the plot."  He was
+silent for a little, and then said, almost to himself, "I had
+seen the empty brandy bottles in that cupboard."
+
+"You never said anything about them" complained Bill.
+
+"I only saw them afterwards.  I was looking for the collar, you
+remember.  They came back to me afterwards; I knew how Cayley
+would feel about it ....  Poor devil!"
+
+"Go on," said Bill.
+
+"Well, then, we had the inquest, and of course I noticed, and I
+suppose you did too, the curious fact that Robert had asked his
+way at the second lodge and not at the first.  So I talked to
+Amos and Parsons.  That made it more curious.  Amos told me that
+Robert had gone out of his way to speak to him; had called to
+him, in fact. Parsons told me that his wife was out in their
+little garden at the first lodge all the afternoon, and was
+certain that Robert had never come past it.  He also told me that
+Cayley had put him on to a job on the front lawn that afternoon.
+So I had another guess.  Robert had used the secret passage--the
+passage which comes out into the park between the first and
+second lodges.  Robert, then, had been in the house; it was a
+put-up job between Robert and Cayley.  But how could Robert be
+there without Mark knowing?  Obviously, Mark knew too.  What
+did it all mean?"
+
+"When was this?" interrupted Bill.  "Just after the inquest--after
+you'd seen Amos and Parsons, of course?"
+
+"Yes.  I got up and left them, and came to look for you.  I'd got
+back to the clothes then.  Why did Mark change his clothes so
+secretly?  Disguise?  But then what about his face?  That was
+much more important than clothes.  His face, his beard--he'd have
+to shave off his beard--and then--oh, idiot!  I saw you looking
+at that poster.  Mark acting, Mark made-up, Mark disguised.  Oh,
+priceless idiot!  Mark was Robert ....  Matches, please."
+
+Bill passed over the matches again, waited till Antony had relit
+his pipe, and then held out his hand for them, just as they were
+going into the other's pocket.
+
+"Yes," said Bill thoughtfully.  "Yes ....  But wait a moment.
+What about the 'Plough and Horses'?"  Antony looked comically at
+him.
+
+"You'll never forgive me, Bill," he said.  "You'll never come
+clue-hunting with me again."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+Antony sighed.
+
+"It was a fake, Watson.  I wanted you out of the way.  I wanted
+to be alone.  I'd guessed at my x, and I wanted to test it--to
+test it every way, by everything we'd discovered.  I simply had
+to be alone just then.  So--" he smiled and added, "Well, I knew
+you wanted a drink."
+
+"You are a devil," said Bill, staring at him.  "And your interest
+when I told you that a woman had been staying there--"
+
+"Well, it was only polite to be interested when you'd taken so
+much trouble."
+
+"You brute!  You--you Sherlock!  And then you keep trying to
+steal my matches.  Well, go on."
+
+"That's all.  My x fitted."
+
+"Did you guess Miss Norris and all that?"
+
+"Well, not quite.  I didn't realize that Cayley had worked for it
+from the beginning--had put Miss Norris up to frightening Mark.
+I thought he'd just seized the opportunity."
+
+Bill was silent for a long time.  Then, puffing at his pipe, he
+said slowly, "Has Cayley shot himself?"
+
+Antony shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Poor devil," said Bill.  "It was decent of you to give him a
+chance.  I'm glad you did."
+
+"I couldn't help liking Cayley in a kind of way, you know."
+
+"He's a clever devil.  If you hadn't turned up just when you did,
+he would never have been found out."
+
+"I wonder.  It was ingenious, but it's often the ingenious thing
+which gets found out.  The awkward thing from Cayley's point of
+view was that, though Mark was missing, neither he nor his body
+could ever be found.  Well, that doesn't often happen with a
+missing man.  He generally gets discovered in the end; a
+professional criminal; perhaps not--but an amateur like Mark!  He
+might have kept the secret of how he killed Mark, but I think it
+would have become obvious sooner or later that he had killed
+him."
+
+"Yes, there's something in that ....  Oh, just tell me one thing.
+Why did Mark tell Miss Norbury about his imaginary brother?"
+
+"That's puzzled me rather, too, Bill.  It may be that he was just
+doing the Othello business--painting himself black all over.  I
+mean he may have been so full of his appearance as Robert that he
+had almost got to believe in Robert, and had to tell everybody.
+More likely, though, he felt that, having told all of you at the
+house, he had better tell Miss Norbury, in case she met one of
+you; in which case, if you mentioned the approaching arrival of
+Robert, she might say, 'Oh, I'm certain he has no brother; he
+would have told me if he had,' and so spoil his joke.  Possibly,
+too, Cayley put him on to it; Cayley obviously wanted as many
+people as possible to know about Robert."
+
+"Are you going to tell the police?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose they'll have to know.  Cayley may have left
+another confession.  I hope he won't give me away; you see, I've
+been a sort of accessory since yesterday evening.  And I must go
+and see Miss Norbury."
+
+"I asked," explained Bill, "because I was wondering what I should
+say to--to Betty.  Miss Calladine.  You see, she's bound to ask."
+
+"Perhaps you won't see her again for a long, long time," said
+Antony sadly.
+
+"As a matter of fact, I happen to know that she will be at the
+Barringtons.  And I go up there to-morrow."
+
+"Well, you had better tell her.  You're obviously longing to.
+Only don't let her say anything for a day or two.  I'll write to
+you."
+
+"Righto!"
+
+Antony knocked the ashes out of his pipe and got up.
+
+"The Barringtons," he said.  "Large party?"
+
+"Fairly, I think."
+
+Antony smiled at his friend.
+
+"Yes.  Well, if any of 'em should happen to be murdered, you
+might send for me.  I'm just getting into the swing of it."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red House Mystery, by A. A. Milne
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED HOUSE MYSTERY ***
+
+This file should be named rdhsm11.txt or rdhsm11.zip
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, rdhsm11.txt
+VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rdhsm10a.txt
+
+This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
+
+Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
+of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
+Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
+even years after the official publication date.
+
+Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
+midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
+The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
+Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
+preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
+and editing by those who wish to do so.
+
+Most people start at our Web sites at:
+http://gutenberg.net or
+http://promo.net/pg
+
+These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
+Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
+eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).
+
+
+Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
+can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
+also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
+indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
+announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.
+
+http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or
+ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03
+
+Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90
+
+Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
+as it appears in our Newsletters.
+
+
+Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
+
+We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
+time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
+to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
+searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
+projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
+per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
+million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
+files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
+We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
+If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
+will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.
+
+The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
+This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
+which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.
+
+Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):
+
+eBooks Year Month
+
+    1  1971 July
+   10  1991 January
+  100  1994 January
+ 1000  1997 August
+ 1500  1998 October
+ 2000  1999 December
+ 2500  2000 December
+ 3000  2001 November
+ 4000  2001 October/November
+ 6000  2002 December*
+ 9000  2003 November*
+10000  2004 January*
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
+to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
+and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
+Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
+Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
+Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
+Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
+Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
+Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
+Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
+
+We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
+that have responded.
+
+As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
+will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
+Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.
+
+In answer to various questions we have received on this:
+
+We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
+request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
+you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
+just ask.
+
+While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
+not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
+donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
+donate.
+
+International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
+how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
+deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
+ways.
+
+Donations by check or money order may be sent to:
+
+Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+PMB 113
+1739 University Ave.
+Oxford, MS 38655-4109
+
+Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
+method other than by check or money order.
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
+the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
+[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
+tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
+requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
+made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.
+
+We need your donations more than ever!
+
+You can get up to date donation information online at:
+
+http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html
+
+
+***
+
+If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
+you can always email directly to:
+
+Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
+
+Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.
+
+We would prefer to send you information by email.
+
+
+**The Legal Small Print**
+
+
+(Three Pages)
+
+***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
+Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
+They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
+your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
+someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
+fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
+disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
+you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.
+
+*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
+By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
+eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
+this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
+a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
+sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
+you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
+medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
+
+ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
+This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
+is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
+through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
+Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
+on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
+distribute it in the United States without permission and
+without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
+below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
+under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
+
+Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
+any commercial products without permission.
+
+To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
+efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
+works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
+medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
+things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
+disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
+codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
+But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
+[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
+receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
+all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
+legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
+UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
+INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
+OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
+POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
+
+If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
+receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
+you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
+time to the person you received it from. If you received it
+on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
+such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
+copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
+choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
+receive it electronically.
+
+THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
+TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
+PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
+
+Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
+the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
+above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
+may have other legal rights.
+
+INDEMNITY
+You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
+and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
+with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
+texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
+legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
+following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
+[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
+or [3] any Defect.
+
+DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
+You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
+disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
+"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
+or:
+
+[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
+     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
+     eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
+     if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
+     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
+     including any form resulting from conversion by word
+     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
+     *EITHER*:
+
+     [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
+          does *not* contain characters other than those
+          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
+          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
+          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
+          author, and additional characters may be used to
+          indicate hypertext links; OR
+
+     [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
+          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
+          form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
+          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
+          OR
+
+     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
+          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
+          eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
+          or other equivalent proprietary form).
+
+[2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
+     "Small Print!" statement.
+
+[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
+     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
+     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
+     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
+     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
+     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
+     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
+     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
+     let us know your plans and to work out the details.
+
+WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
+Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
+public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
+in machine readable form.
+
+The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
+public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
+Money should be paid to the:
+"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
+software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
+hart@pobox.com
+
+[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
+when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
+Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
+used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
+they hardware or software or any other related product without
+express permission.]
+
+*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
+
diff --git a/old/rdhsm11.zip b/old/rdhsm11.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c2e51aa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/old/rdhsm11.zip