"I can say the same thing about this letter. I don't know why you want it written."
"Tell me who told you of Lancaster's whereabouts, and I'll explain."
"No, thanks," she rejoined, with a shrug. "Writing such a letter won't hurt me in any way, and telling you too much, might."
"As you please. Let me see you to the carriage."
She accepted his offer, and together they walked across the fields to where a fly from Mardon was waiting. Mrs. Anchor hopped into this as lightly as a bird, and again held out her hand. "Goodbye," she smiled. "You won't forget to deliver my message?"
"I will if I can, on condition--"
"Yes, I know the condition. The letter shall be sent to Miss Starth."
When the fly drove away, Eustace stood in a brown study for a few minutes. He wondered why Mrs. Anchor had so readily accepted his assurance that Frank was not in the house. Certainly he was not, but Jarman fancied that so suspicious a woman would have made sure. Yet she did not even avail herself of his offer to let her inspect the house. "I wonder what stake those two are playing for?" mused Jarman, walking down the road. "It's that million, I suppose."
But he could not be sure until he gained more explicit information. Jarman had conceived a plot, with which the letter to Mildred was concerned. By it he hoped to learn the secrets of Berry, who certainly appeared to be the head of the whole business. As to the Scarlet Bat, the opening of the sealed letter might reveal what that meant. But the letter could only be opened by Frank, and Frank was nowhere to be found. Jarman decided to tell Mildred the whole story, and then to consult her about opening the letter in Frank's absence. It seemed foolish to wait, and to leave the man in such peril. And he was in the greatest peril, now that Fan knew he had been hiding at Wargrove. Eustace felt thankful that for obvious reasons she could not take the police into her councils, else he might have got into trouble for compounding a felony.
While thus thinking a man had approached him softly, and Jarman was startled by a touch on his shoulder. He wheeled round sharply to behold Darrel. The man looked sulky as usual, and purred like a cat when he addressed Jarman.