Laura laughed. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask for one.”
Mr. Priestley laughed too. In the space of a few seconds the whole thing seemed to have taken on a completely different aspect. It was not a tragedy at all; it was—yes, utterly incredible but perfectly true—really quite funny!
Laura seemed to find it funny too. Her laugh degenerated into a giggle.
Mr. Priestley sat down on the bed. “Of course, you know I’m not that man Mullins,” he stated rather than asked. How very obtuse of him never to have realised that before! Of course she knew it. “When did you begin to find out?”
“I knew all the time,” giggled Laura. “Oh, dear, this is ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Quite absurd,” grinned Mr. Priestley. “I’m afraid, by the way, that I must have been rather a handicap to you this evening.”
“Not at all,” said Laura politely.
“You see, I’ve never associated with professional criminals before. My name is——” A glimmer of sense returned to Mr. Priestley, and he withheld that confidence.
Laura was giggling again. “You know, I’m not really a professional criminal,” she volunteered. “I’m quite honest. Is that a dreadful disappointment?”
Mr. Priestley beamed. “No, are you really? That is a great relief, a very great relief. That’s really a load off my mind. But in that case—well, would you mind telling me the real truth about this evening?”