Mike did not much think so, though he would much have liked to. But he received the suggestion kindly. "We might as well have a look; we can come back afterwards if—if we like. Perhaps that big brute'll have gone."
"The thing as I want to do most is to wring that Sergeant's neck!"
Their whispers were checked by a new development. The cottage door opened for a moment and then closed again; they could tell that, both by the sound and by the momentary ray of light. Yet a light persisted after the door was shut. It came from a candle, which burnt steadily in the stillness of the night. It was carried by a woman, who came down the path towards where Beaumaroy and the Captain stood in conversation. Both turned towards her with eager attention.
"Now's our time, then! They aren't looking our way now. We can get across the heath to where the car is."
They moved on very softly, keeping the Tower between them and the group on the path. They gained the back of the house, and so the open heath, and made off to their destination. They moved so softly that they escaped unheard—unless Beaumaroy were right in the notion that his ear caught a little rustle of the bracken. He took no heed of it, unless a passing smile might be reckoned as such.
Doctor Mary joined him and the Captain on the path. Beaumaroy's smile gave way to a look of expectant interest. He wondered what she was going to say to Captain Alec. There was so much that she might say, or—just conceivably—leave unsaid.
She spoke calmly and quietly. "It's you, Captain Alec! I thought so! Cynthia got anxious? I'm all right. I suppose Mr. Beaumaroy has told you? Poor Mr. Saffron is dead."
"I've told him," said Beaumaroy.
"Of heart disease," Mary added. "Quite painlessly, I think—and quite a normal case, though, of course, it's distressing."
"I—I'm sorry," stammered Captain Alec.