Goodall raised his hands. “You travel a darned sight too fast, Mr. Bathurst. Hold hard a minute—there’s a pretty wide gulf of difference between outlining your suggestions and putting them into solid practice. For instance, you assert quite confidently that the time was 11:20. How——”
“Tut-tut, man,” broke in Anthony—“that shouldn’t surprise you. Your mysterious woman arrived at the Hanover Galleries at twelve o’clock or thereabouts—I’ve endeavored to fill in the time with what happened here between ten o’clock and then—I put the murder at eleven o’clock approximately, and I’ve allowed twenty minutes for the cycle ride.”
Goodall nodded slowly as Anthony made his points. “Granted all that—Mr. Bathurst—I don’t say I accept it all—how about that list of hotels you talk about drawing up and handing to me—there isn’t exactly a famine in hotels in London—it seems to me it will be ‘some list.’ ” He smiled at Anthony with just a tinge of sarcasm.
“Just a little matter of geometry, Inspector,” came the somewhat baffling answer.
“Geometry?” queried Goodall.
“Yes,” said Anthony, “with a given center and a radius say of one mile—describe a circle—the hotel will be found within that circle—the lady was at work on the real business by midnight—remember.” The Inspector’s face cleared.
“Of course! I see now what you mean. Your center will be the Hanover Galleries?”
“Exactly,” replied Mr. Bathurst.
CHAPTER XII.
The Second Screen of Mary Stuart
Goodall turned to Clegg and fired off a rapid fusillade of instructions to which that worthy gave the most respectful attention. “At once, Inspector?” he questioned.