Charles told her what Duval had said that morning when Strange had entered the taproom with the landlord. She nodded. "I see." She watched Peter swing his legs out of bed, and sat down, folding her dressing-gown more tightly round her.
Peter collected his clothes, and disappeared into her room. Through the open doorway his voice reached them: "What about Celia?"
"She doesn't like it, but she says if Margaret will go and keep her company and I promise to run no risks I may go just this once."
Margaret raised her eyes. "What are you going to do, Charles?"
"It all depends," he answered. "I don't propose to run any unnecessary risks, and from Duval's account the Monk is a dangerous customer. But if by following Duval we can get a sight of the Monk it's worth doing."
"You mean, you'd follow the Monk, and see where he went to?"
"That's the general idea."
Margaret looked straight ahead of her for a moment, as though she were considering. "Yes," she said at last. "I think perhaps you ought to. But don't shoot, Charles. Either of you. You don't want to land yourselves in a mess, and you mustn't forget that you don't know what the Monk is after. He may not be doing anything criminal."
"The only shooting I'm likely to do will be in selfdefence," Charles replied.
Peter came back into the room in his shirt-sleeves. "Don't you worry, Sis. We shan't get into trouble."