After Anthony had departed Roger did not follow him immediately. For quite a long time he sat on his rock, oblivious of the fact that other and even tempting ones were being uncovered by the receding tide straight in front of him. This talk with Anthony certainly had clarified his ideas very considerably—had, indeed, presented him with some highly interesting brand-new ones. The case had suddenly taken on an entirely different aspect. From being merely complex it had become downright complicated. He wondered what Inspector Moresby, with his very much more conventional methods, would have to say about his deductions from that copy of London Opinion, a piece of constructive reasoning which Roger had not the slightest hesitation in characterising in his own mind as brilliant.
There are some people who are said to know instinctively whether they are in the right or wrong, without the aid of any extraneous evidence. Roger had not the least doubt that he possessed this sixth sense, and as he rose at last to his feet and began his scramble back to the foot of the cliffs every instinct was busy telling him that he had got his finger poised above the very heart of the problem. In some new actor, not yet appeared on the stage, would the ultimate solution be found. To lay his hands on him should only prove a matter of time and patience.
Humming blithely, he clambered up the uneven ascent and hoisted himself on the ledge. Well, first of all he would have to⸺
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Sheringham! Do you know, I had quite an idea I should find you here. I’ve been so anxious to see you again, after our very brief conversation yesterday morning. I want to ask you what you think of this terrible crime in our midst, and whether you have formed a theory yet. I hope—I do so hope it will not prove to have been committed by—ah, dear me, a terrible affair!”
Roger wheeled about. From above a boulder at the back of the ledge a face like that of a benign and beardless goat was regarding him benevolently through an enormous pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Oh, hell!” confided Roger Sheringham to his immortal soul.
Chapter XV.
Interesting Discovery of a Shoe
It was past noon when Roger made his appearance at the little grassy ledge. To his surprise he found it occupied by only one tenant, who was lying on his back and staring up into the blue sky, puffing contentedly at his pipe. Roger scrambled down the little slope and dropped on to the turf beside his cousin.
“How now, fair coz? What have you done with the lady? I wanted a word with her.”
Anthony turned his head. “You can hardly expect her to be at your beck and call all the time,” he observed with some severity. “You know she’s keeping house for the doctor.”