Closed Circle by Robert Goddard

we set off for Dorking. So it was no surprise to find some of his clothes missing, along with half the roll of bank-notes we kept in a tea-caddy in the kitchen and referred to as our contingency fund without ever envisaging such a dire contingency as this.
    My lack of surprise made it easier to assure Hornby nothing had been disturbed. It was a small enough favour to do Max, meaning the police would not know whether he was wearing herring-bone or chalk-stripe, nor how much money he might have in his pocket. But I was glad to do it, relieved indeed to find one lie I could tell for his sake.
    Hornby prowled and poked about, asked a few desultory questions and generally expressed disappointment at the paucity of clues.
    "Are these really all Mr. Wingate's possessions, sir?"
    "He's always tended to travel light, Chief Inspector. So have I."
    "And where do you think he's travelled now?"
    "I couldn't say."
    "We'll have the ports watched, you know. And this flat for some time to come."
    "I'm sure you will."
    "What I'm saying, sir, is that we're bound to catch him in the end. If you've any idea where he may be, or if he contacts you, by letter or telephone '
    "I'll let you know immediately. Is that what you want me to say?"
    "Yes, sir, it is. But it's also what I want you to mean."
    Hornby left soon afterwards, as the London sky was lightening. I had undertaken to report to Dorking Police Station that afternoon to make a formal statement. In the interim, while Hornby and his crew scoured the woods for evidence, there was nothing for me to do but brood upon the intractability of Max's plight. Whether or not I aided the police in their search, I did not doubt how it would end: in Max's arrest. And what then? His trial. His conviction. His execution. It was as hard to imagine any other sequence of events as it was to believe that my friend was truly set on such a course.
    Mrs. Dodd arrived at ten o'clock, flustered by being interrogated on the doorstep by a plain clothes policeman. Fluster turned to dismay when I told her what had happened. She insisted on cooking me some breakfast and speculating on how Max's parents would take the news, which I had no difficulty in guessing without her assistance. I had met Mr. and Mrs. Wingate on several occasions and knew them to be kindly but correct. This turn of events was certain to distress and scandalize them. Sooner or later, I was going to have to account to them for my part in it and it was not a prospect I was relishing.
    It was nearly noon when Mrs. Dodd left. I should perhaps have telephoned the Wingates then, but the person I most wanted to talk to at that moment, aside from Max, was Diana. Surrendering to the impulse, I put a call through to Amber Court. But Diana, the maid informed me, was unavailable. With some misgivings, I agreed to speak to Vita instead.
    "My niece is resting, Mr. Horton, and cannot possibly be disturbed. The poor girl is beside herself. The police are still searching the grounds and we're besieged by pressmen. The situation is quite frightful and deeply distressing."
    "I can imagine how you feel."
    "Can you? Diana's father has been brutally murdered by a man with whom she thought herself to be in love. Can you really imagine how she feels? How I feel?"
    "Well.. . Of course, I realize what a terrible shock this has been.. . Perhaps it would help if I could talk to Diana."
    "I doubt it."
    "I have to be in Dorking this afternoon to make a statement at the police station. Could I call at Amber Court afterwards?" There was a pause, during which Vita seemed to be weighing my suggestion in the balance. "Miss Charnwood?"
    "I think not, Mr. Horton." My suggestion, then, had been found wanting. "You are closely associated in Diana's mind with Mr. Wingate. Any communication with you is therefore bound to upset her. In the circumstances, I think it would be best if you left her alone. In fact, I rather think I must insist on you doing so. Now -and for the foreseeable