He rejoined us, placid and unconcerned.
“I can’t wake her, but I am sure that I can hear her breathing,” he told us. “If she has been drinking though, it might take more than mere noise to rouse her. She has locked her door and left the key in it turned so that I can’t push it out.” He was the only one of us, I noticed, to speak above a whisper and in his usual voice.
“But what on earth is it all about?” Kenneth asked. “You were pretty sarcastic, I remember, this afternoon, when I suggested waking Ethel.” He overpitched his voice in an attempt to copy the doctor’s equanimity. Poor Kenneth!
“Yes, yes, but then you see I knew that she was safe, and this little Satan’s love note had not been found.”
“I don’t understand it. What were you both doing about the house at this time of night?” Kenneth asked, turning to me. “If you found it, why did you wake up the doctor, of all people, before the rest of us?”
I looked at The Tundish. Not a word had I said as to where I had found him, and I wondered what he would tell them, but he never hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Oh, I imagined that Jeffcock would have told you all there is to tell while I have been up-stairs,” he replied. And then he proceeded to tell them everything. How I had sat up late, and going into the garden for a stroll, had seen a light shine from the landing window. How I had found the notice behind the switch and him, with his flash-light, searching the floor of Stella’s room. The only thing he omitted to mention was the door we both heard shut with a click on the landing below. When he had finished he turned to me to corroborate his statement.
I could not understand him. Why should he confess so readily to being abroad at night, in circumstances so suspicious, and then ignore the one salient point that stood out so clearly in his favor? I nodded my assent. It was his business after all, and I would not interfere.
His explanation was received in silence—a silence tense with incredulity and disbelief.
Ralph asked him what he was doing in Stella’s room and he gave the same explanation that he had given to me a little time before. His voice held not a trace of emotion or concern. We were all of us looking at him, Ethel with friendly trust and approval, the two boys and Margaret with suspicions they either could not, or did not bother to conceal. For myself, I hardly knew what to think. He faced us all unmoved. He smiled reassuringly at Ethel.
“Either of you two then, could have put this up behind the switch?” Kenneth asked.