Anthony flashed him a cordial smile. “Fond of motoring, Colonel?”
“I am that. It’s one of my hobbies—the roads are pretty good down this way, and I go for some fast spins.”
Anthony rubbed his hands. “You’re another like myself,” he chuckled. “What’s your car?”
“A Bentley—latest model,” said the Colonel—“real beauty—I can knock an easy seventy-five out of her.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen the latest model,” said Anthony reflectively, “I don’t fancy——”
The Colonel broke in on his musings enthusiastically. “Come out to the garage then and have a look at mine. It won’t take a moment.”
They followed the Colonel, who explained the car’s fine points with the eagerness of a schoolboy. Goodall looked at his watch.
“Good-bye, Colonel,” he said, “I must be going! Many thanks for your kindness. You know where I’m off to, Mr. Bathurst—don’t quite know when I shall be back—if you want me, ’phone ‘the Yard.’ ”
The Colonel’s eyes followed his retreating figure for some distance. “We must be going too, Colonel,” exclaimed Anthony, “but there’s one little point before I go. That last evening you spent with Mr. Stewart—did he refer to any book while you were there—was he reading any book at any time during the evening? Try to remember if you possibly can!”
The Colonel knitted his brows. “There was a book open on his desk, now you come to mention it—I remember seeing it there—what was it called now?” he searched his mind in the effort of remembrance—“I know—it was Renan’s Vie de Jésus.”