Mr. Hurley coughed. “I haven’t got a search-warrant yet,” he remarked. “I didn’t expect——”
“You’d better go and get one, then,” said Audrey, calculating how long it would take three women to transport themselves from the house to the yacht, and perpending upon the probable behaviour of Mr. Gilman under a given set of circumstances.
“I will,” said Mr. Hurley. “And I shan’t be long. Keeble, where is the nearest justice of the peace?... You’d better stay here or hereabouts.”
“I got to go to the station to sign on my three constables,” Inspector Keeble protested awkwardly, looking at his watch, which also resembled himself.
“You’d better stay here or hereabouts,” repeated Mr. Hurley, and he moved towards the door. Inspector Keeble, too, moved towards the door.
Audrey let them get into the passage, and then she was vouchsafed a new access of inspiration.
“Mr. Hurley,” she called, in a bright, unoffended tone. “After all, I see no reason why you shouldn’t search the house. I don’t really want to put you to any unnecessary trouble. It is annoying, but I’m not going to be annoyed.” The ingenuous young creature expected Mr. Hurley to be at once disarmed and ashamed by this kind offer. She was wrong. He was evidently surprised, but he gave no evidence of shame or of the sudden death in his brain of all suspicions.
“That’s better,” he said calmly. “And I’m much obliged.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Audrey. “Madame Piriac,” she addressed Hortense with averted eyes. “Will you excuse me for a minute or two while I show these gentlemen the house?” The fact was that she did not care just then to be left alone with Madame Piriac.
“Oh! I beg you, darling! “Madame Piriac granted the permission with overpowering sweetness.