Peter saluted with mock gravity. “I’ll be the soul of tacit discretion,” he exclaimed. “Have you really stumbled across a clue already?”
Bathurst’s face relaxed into a smile. “Clues are tumbling over each other—I’ve really had the luck of the old gentleman himself up to the moment. The ball’s running altogether too kindly—doubtless I shall get a rude awakening soon. Come over on the grass there and I’ll tell you something!”
Peter accepted his bidding with alacrity. Anthony carefully chose another cigarette. “I’ll tell you this,” he said, speaking in low tones, “before we go across to find O’Connor. But first—a question! How did you sleep last night? Anything disturb you?”
Peter knitted his brows. “No! Nothing! But I was dog-tired and slept like a top—whichever way that may actually be.”
Anthony pointed across to the wall of the garden against which could be seen nestling a burden of magnificent nectarines. “Be interested—apparently——in something that I’m showing you—I don’t want anybody in the house to think I’m discussing the case with you—for all I know we are being watched.”
Peter grimaced, but began to play his part as per instructions. “The situation is becoming decidedly interesting,” he muttered. “Why do you ask me about how I slept?”
Anthony made a gesture with his arm towards another part of the garden before he answered. “At twenty-two minutes past one this morning I awoke very suddenly. I’m a very light sleeper and the slightest sound is sufficient to wake me. What I had heard was a step passing my bedroom door. Of course I couldn’t be sure which direction the steps had taken. But I slipped out of bed and opened my door. I stood listening for some time and then I heard the steps coming back. Whoever it was, was coming upstairs again. Naturally I had to bolt back into my bedroom, but I held the door handle so that I could open it quickly and noiselessly immediately the prowler had passed. I just had time to see the gentleman disappear into the room next to yours. You may guess that I went back to bed and did a little bit of quiet thinking.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Peter. “The plot thickens! Who the blazes was it—any idea?”
“I know who it was,” replied Anthony. “It was the gentleman who had ‘brekker’ with us this morning—Mr. Morgan Llewellyn! You may remember what he thought about the library being shut up.”
Peter whistled softly. “You mean that he was trying to get in there, in the night?”