“I know nothing against him,” declared Ross. “No whisper against him has ever reached me.”
“How did he take the lady’s change of feelings?”
“No idea. As I said just now, I’m only repeating local gossip.” With that the Inspector was forced to be content.
It was obvious that the local man’s knowledge was largely founded upon hearsay. Anthony realised this and turned once again to the miscellaneous heap upon the bed. He picked up a long silk scarf, with what definite object at the time he scarcely knew, when to his surprise a postcard fluttered from the folds and fell to the ground. He stooped to pick it up. It was undated and the sender had omitted to put his or her address. It ran as follows: “Dearest Sheila,—If only you were here instead of those miles away! Then I should love the Spring (and you) still more. The garden is looking splendid—nearly equal to that at ‘Rest Harrow.’ All the flowers have made a fine show but the irides are simply wonderful.” It was signed with one initial only—“X.” Anthony held it out to Bannister. “Came out of this scarf,” he said. “Do you think it’s of any importance?”
Bannister looked at it very attentively—read the message—then attempted to decipher the postmark. Anthony looked over his shoulder. “Looks to me like Dulwich,” he said.
“I think so too,” said Bannister.
“It’s a peculiar handwriting, Inspector,” added Anthony. “You very seldom see a hand slope quite like that.”
“Very peculiar indeed, Mr. Bathurst. I’ll hang on to this—you never know in cases of this kind. The least thing may turn the scale.”
Anthony walked to the window of the bedroom and looked out on to the front garden. He stood there for perhaps a minute. Then he turned quickly round and addressed Bannister again. “An idea has just come to me, Inspector. I should very much like to test it. What do you say?” Bannister stared. “I’m going to bring all these larger keys into the garden and find the garage. I want to have a peep inside. Come along with me.” He suited the action to the words and within a few minutes swung open the garage doors. A car stood inside—a ‘Standard.’ Anthony waved his hand towards it. “There, Inspector,” he exclaimed dramatically, “is the car that took Miss Delaney to Seabourne.”
Bannister regarded him incredulously. “Then how the devil did it get back here?” he demanded.