Max looked across the garden. “There’s the money,” he said. “He should never have brought it here. Seven hundred pounds!”
“Stop worrying about the money,” Emily said sharply. “Is that what you’re crying about?”
“The gun worries me,” Max said, not listening to her. “A razor, yes, but a gun!… It’s someone we don’t know.”
“Well, we can find out, can’t we?” Emily persisted.
“Does the whip mean anything?”
“It must do. It’s new. Crispin wouldn’t buy a thing like that.”
There was a long pause. A bee droned across the hot garden and lighted on a hollyhock.
“Who was that girl? The one Crispin thrashed?” Emily said, plucking another blade of grass and chewing it.
“I was thinking about her, too,” Max said. “The whip might tie up with her. Do you mean that?”
“It could do. And the big man. Who was he?”