After breakfast, they asked me to direct them to the pool in the wood, and they went off there, and didn’t come back till dinner-time.
When they came in I asked them if they had seen the pool.
“Yes,” said the tall gentleman; “it is a lovely place for a murder.”
“A lovely place for a murder,” I thought to myself. “That’s a nice way to talk certainly;” but I was wanted in the bar, and we didn’t have any more conversation.
That evening Harry had gone upstairs into one of the rooms that was being repapered, and when he came down he looked very serious.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“Well,” he said, “I was passing No. 16, and, hearing them talking rather loud, I stopped for a minute, not exactly to listen; but I couldn’t help hearing what they said, and I heard something that’s rather worried me.”
“What is it?” I said. “You’d better tell me, or I shall think all manner of things.”
I had to press him; but he told me at last.
“I heard one say to the other,” he said, “that he thought they couldn’t do better than get the girl to that pool, and then have her pushed in.”