She slipped her hand confidingly into one of his. “I know, and I'm awfully sorry, but it's just One of Those Things. We needn't say I've burned the letter. We can chuck the ashes out of the window and pretend it's lost.”
“Go on and tell me the rest of the story,” Giles said.
“When did you receive the letter?”
“Yesterday, at tea-time. And I rang up Eaton Place, but Arnold wasn't there, so I naturally supposed he was coming down to Ashleigh Green, with one of his fancy ladies, and I got the car out, and came after him.”
“For the Lord's sake, Tony, leave out the bit about the fancy-lady! No sane policeman will ever believe you would motor down to argue with Arnold when you thought he had a woman with him.”
She opened her eyes at him. “But I did!”
“Yes, I know you did. You would. But don't say it. You don't know he had a woman with him, do you?”
“No, but it seemed likely.”
“Then leave that out. What happened when you got to the cottage?”
“Nothing. Arnold wasn't there. So I squeezed in through the pantry window, and waited for him. You know how it is when one does that. You keep on saying, "Well, I'll give him another half-hour," and time sort of slips by. And anyway I knew he was coming, because the place was prepared. Well, he didn't turn up, and didn't turn up, and I didn't much fancy motoring back again at that hour, so I went to bed.”