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,
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,
Similar Books
