“Well, Baddeley isn’t the only one to have that,” I ventured blazingly indiscreet.
Anthony shook a warning finger at me. “Bill—Bill——” The breakfast company immediately became all attention.
“What’s this, Bill?” demanded Sir Charles. “Who among us has any special knowledge? Bathurst hasn’t made any other discoveries, has he?”
Anthony flung another warning glance in my direction then replied to Sir Charles. “You flatter me, Sir Charles,” he said laughingly, “and you make altogether too much of my Webb escapade—Bill is getting as bad as the rest of you—that’s all there is to it.”
I thought that Sir Charles looked somewhat relieved. Lady Considine evidently had a similar impression for she leaned across and patted him on the sleeve. “Don’t you worry too much about it, Charles,” she said quietly; “let’s get this unpleasant business over to-day—then perhaps we may be allowed to forget. If Inspector Baddeley arrests the murderer—well and good—if he fails to——” she shrugged her shoulders. The breakfast party broke up.
“Both the cars are going down to the village—there will be room in them for all,” announced our host.
We murmured our thanks. “What do you say to a stroll down, Bill?” said Anthony. “Plenty of time, and it will stretch our legs.”
“I’m with you,” I responded. I was secretly pleased at the opportunity—I imagined that he wanted to tell me something or desired to discuss some aspect of the case with me. I was disappointed. He was quiet. We swung along some distance before I broke the ice.
“What did you make of that letter business?” I asked, watching his expression intently.
“In what relation?”