“Yes, do,” Roger said approvingly. “But hurry up, and for goodness’ sake, don’t let anybody see you. That would be worse still.”
“And now, Sherlock Sheringham,” said Alec, when they had gained the security of the lawn, “what do you propose? Isn’t it time you disguised yourself, or something? I’m sure the best detectives always do that at about this stage of the proceedings.”
“Don’t be ribald, friend Alec,” Roger said reprovingly. “This is a very serious business, and we’re getting along with it very nicely. I think our next move is fairly clear, isn’t it? We embark on the quest of the Mysterious Stranger.”
“What mysterious stranger?”
“I mean, we make some inquiries round about as to whether any stranger was seen near the place last night. The lodge, the station, the village, and the rest of it.”
“That seems a sound scheme.”
“Yes, but before we start there’s just one other thing I want to do. You saw how productive the contents of the waste-paper basket were. I should like to have a look at yesterday’s as well.”
“Haven’t they been destroyed?”
“No, I don’t think so. I made some inquiries while you were otherwise engaged just now, saying that I had thrown away a letter I meant to keep, and as far as I can make out the contents of all the waste-paper baskets are emptied on to an ash pit at the back of the house, where they lie till William sees fit to use them up in a bonfire. I want to have a peep at that ash pit before we start. Not that I really expect to find anything, but you never know.”
“How do we get there?”