“Madame?”
Anthony heard a rapid colloquy, and then the front door opened and shut. Virginia came back into the room.
“She’s gone. I sent her for some special scent—told her the shop in question was open until eight. It won’t be, of course. She’s to follow after me by the next train without coming back here.”
“Good,” said Anthony approvingly. “We can now proceed to the disposal of the body. It’s a time-worn method, but I’m afraid I shall have to ask you if there’s such a thing in the house as a trunk?”
“Of course there is. Come down to the basement and take your choice.”
There was a variety of trunks in the basement. Anthony selected a solid affair of suitable size.
“I’ll attend to this part of it,” he said tactfully. “You go upstairs and get ready to start.”
Virginia obeyed. She slipped out of her tennis kit, put on a soft brown travelling dress and a delightful little orange hat, and came down to find Anthony waiting in the hall with a neatly strapped trunk beside him.
“I should like to tell you the story of my life,” he remarked, “but it’s going to be rather a busy evening. Now this is what you’ve got to do. Call a taxi, have your luggage put on it, including the trunk. Drive to Paddington. There have the trunk put in the Left Luggage Office. I shall be on the platform. As you pass me, drop the Cloak Room ticket. I will pick it up and pretend to return it to you, but in reality I shall keep it. Go on to Chimneys, and leave the rest to me.”
“It’s awfully good of you,” said Virginia. “It’s really dreadful of me saddling a perfect stranger with a dead body like this.”