“You don’t know she did ’phone her husband,” I ventured, with criticism in my voice. “Why call him Emma? It may have been the most harmless of conversations.”
“No, Bill—all your wonted eloquence will not convince me of that. She ’phoned the ‘Spider,’ informing him of her luck. ‘I’ve got the necklace,’ she said, ‘when are you coming for it?’ Shall I go on with the conversation, Bill?”
“Please do,” I said mockingly and a little incredulously.
“Well ‘Spider’ probably said, ‘Where shall I come?’ The reply was ‘outside the billiard room’ ... directions how to find it followed ... then arose the question of time. Listening, Bill?”
I grinned. “Carry on ... I don’t say I believe it all though.”
“I repeat it, Bill ... then came the question of timing the assignation. It had to be after dark ... she couldn’t get away during dinner, for instance, her absence would have been detected instantly, and she couldn’t risk the garden after dinner, there was always the chance of guests going there ... Jack Considine and I were there, for example, so she had to wait till all was quiet. Now when would that be, William?”
“Oh,” I replied, “somewhere about one o’clock in the morning, I suppose, at the earliest.”
“Exactly,” responded Anthony nonchalantly. “Sometime, we will say about one, or possibly two—‘ack Emma!’[1] S’that—Umpire? Is it a hit?”
I gasped! And I had completely missed that meaning—plain as a pike staff now I had secured the explanation.
“Not so bad, Bill, eh?” muttered Anthony quizzically. “Don’t overwhelm me with your admiration.”