“Going to tell him?” I queried.
“Afraid we ought to! Still I don’t see why we should ... yet. On second thoughts, I think we’ll put it back in its little nest ... in this selfsame pocket. For the time being, William, we will remember, we twain, that ‘Silence is Golden’ and that Inspector Baddeley didn’t call us a lot of ‘tight-lips’ unreasonably.”
I looked at the I.O.U. There it was as Barker had described it. Just a mere scrawl. But possibly it had cost a man his life. And might cost another his. “I.O.U. £208. Malcolm V. Barker.” Anthony held his hand out for it. “Let’s put it back, Bill. It will suit my book if it lie there for a time.” He tucked it away into the pocket. “Going on with the game?”
I shook my head. “I’ve lost interest—this new turn has done it. I don’t feel anything like so keen.”
“Neither do I. What about having another look at Prescott’s bedroom? You remember what I told you just now!”
But I was reluctant to turn my thoughts from our latest discovery. I was anxious to hear more of what Anthony thought with regard to it. Had he formed one of his brilliantly definite notions or was he still groping for an elusive factor and groping unsuccessfully? I determined to draw a bow at a venture. I might, by so doing, discover something of what lay in his mind.
“I’m afraid,” I ventured with an air of wisdom, “that this latest business brings the searchlight of suspicion on to Lieutenant Barker again—don’t you agree?” I looked at him intently, trying to read his thoughts.
“Why—particularly?”
“Doesn’t it make it appear,” I asked, “that Prescott was murdered for possession of that I.O.U.? £200 odd is a pretty substantial sum, you know, for a young officer to lose at a sitting. At least, I’d think so.”
“It’s a possibility,” came the reply, “but you can’t assert that the I.O.U. was a primary factor in the murder. I know that the I.O.U. has been discovered near the body, but after all, the explanation may be perfectly simple. Prescott, we will argue, taking the simple line that I have indicated, took the I.O.U. from Barker at the card-table, as we have been told, placed it in the breast-pocket of his dress-coat, and in the struggle that took place when he was done to death, the thing dropped from its place into the pocket of the billiard-table. I told you so just now.”