"What a surprise!" Charles said. "I ought to have had warning of this." He grasped Michael's hand. "Congratulations! And do you mind coming in to lunch?"
Over lunch they discussed their plans, and it was decided that Peter and Margaret should descend into their prison again not later than eight o'clock, to be on the safe side. Michael, Tomlinson, Charles, and three of the Flying Squad from Norchester would take up their positions in the house. It would be Charles' duty, aided by the ubiquitous Flinders, to stand by the panel in the library, in case the Monk managed to reach it. Sergeant Matthews had already blocked up the entrance into Mrs. Bosanquet's room, since they were too short of men to spare a couple to stand guard there. The sergeant and one other man were to lie in wait in the chapel, concealed amongst the ruins, and when they saw the Monk go down through the tomb they were to signal with a torch to the house, where a man would be on the look-out from one of the upper windows. Their task was then to stand by the tomb, and hold the stone slab down in case the Monk doubled back to make an escape that way. There was no hiding place in the crypt, and Michael had judged that it would be safer not to attempt to post any men inside the secret entrance. At the Inn, Fripp was to keep a lookout, and as soon as he had seen Wilkes and the two other men descend into the cellars he was to signal from his window to the police lying in wait outside. One of them would speed off at once to the Priory on his motorbicycle to tell Michael that all was well; the other three would enter the Inn, arrest Spindle before he could give the alarm, and bottle up the second entrance.
"Do you still suspect anyone in particular?" Margaret asked Michael when he returned to the Priory shortly after six.
"I'm sure of it," he answered. "I found out one thing that settles it - or so I think."
"I do think you're a tantalising person!" complained Celia.
"I don't like him," Charles announced. "Don't marry him, Margaret. We can't have a policeman in the family. What about our wireless licence? He's bound to find out that it's expired."
They dined early, and as soon as the meal was over Margaret went up to change into the frock she had worn on the previous evening. With a praiseworthy attention to detail she made her hair look tousled, and wiped all the powder off her face. As Charles remarked, in a newly engaged girl this deed almost amounted to heroism.
At eight o'clock they opened the panel and went down those cold, damp stairs, Michael leading the way. It was nervous work, for the Monk might already have entered, unlikely though this was. However, Margaret felt the butt of the Colt she carried in the pocket of Peter's coat, which she had put on, and took heart. If there was going to be any shooting, she thought, someone would get a surprise.
They climbed through the moving stone, and made their way cautiously through the two vaults to the passage. The place was eerily silent, and it was evident that no one had yet come down into it. The light was still on in their cell, and they entered. Then Michael shut them in, and bolted the door, and returned to the library.
"Ugh!" said Margaret cheerfully. "Well, who says the age of adventure is dead? I hope we don't have to wait long."