“Seems to be quite an epidemic of that sort of thing,” said Battle. “But, well, I dare say there’s nothing in it.”
He turned away, beckoning to a porter as the London train came thundering in. Anthony drew a faint sigh of relief.
He strolled across the park in an unusually thoughtful mood. He purposely chose to approach the house from the same direction as that from which he had come on the fateful Thursday night, and as he drew near to it he looked up at the windows cudgelling his brains to make sure of the one where he had seen the light. Was he quite sure that it was the second from the end?
And, doing so, he made a discovery. There was an angle at the corner of the house in which was a window set farther back. Standing on one spot, you counted this window as the first, and the first one built out over the Council Chamber as the second, but move a few yards to the right and the part built out over the Council Chamber appeared to be the end of the house. The first window was invisible, and the two windows of the rooms over the Council Chamber would have appeared the first and second from the end. Where exactly had he been standing when he had seen the light flash up?
Anthony found the question very hard to determine. A matter of a yard or so made all the difference. But one point was made abundantly clear. It was quite possible that he had been mistaken in describing the light as occurring in the second room from the end. It might equally well have been the third.
Now who occupied the third room? Anthony was determined to find that out as soon as possible. Fortune favoured him. In the hall Tredwell had just set the massive silver urn in its place on the tea tray. Nobody else was there.
“Hullo, Tredwell,” said Anthony. “I wanted to ask you something. Who has the third room from the end on the West side? Over the Council Chamber, I mean.”
Tredwell reflected for a minute or two.
“That would be the American gentleman’s room, sir. Mr. Fish.”
“Oh, is it? Thank you.”