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’?”