"No, not local ones. He always used to say it was wasting twopence to do that. I can't understand it."
Geoffrey said, stammering slightly: "D-do you mean someone's robbed the safe, Inspector?"
"I have no idea," replied Harding. "But a visit to your lather's bank will tell us what was the exact sum he drew on Monday morning."
"If anyone robbed the safe, why not have taken the lot?" said Dinah practically. "He must have paid bills in Ralton before he came home."
"That we can easily find out," said Harding, and glanced at his wrist-watch. "I'll go along to the bank now, if you will tell me which one it is, Lady Billington-Smith, and if you, Mr. Tremlowe, will let me have the numbers of those notes."
Five minutes later his car swept past the window. Fay, who had been staring unseeingly at the safe, raised her eyes and said breathlessly: "If someone did steal the money it means — don't you see, Dinah — it means I was right, and it must have been someone from outside who killed Arthur!"
"Well, we shall see," said Dinah. "Meanwhile, let's go and sit somewhere else."
Mr. Tremlowe rose from his chair. "With permission, Lady Billington-Smith, I will take charge of these notes. And' — he looked over the top of his spectacles at the Sergeant —- "if you care to remain with me, Sergeant, I will go through the papers in the safe while we are waiting for the Inspector to return."
The other three went out into the hall again, and after a moment's indecision Fay said that she supposed they had better join the rest of the party.
Miss de Silva had not, of course, come downstairs , yet, but Guest and the Hallidays were on the terrace. Camilla, who was one of those people who never seened to get any time for reading, had now ample leisure to indulge her declared passion for literature and, in proof of her sincerity, was flicking over the pages of a novel selected at random from Fay's book-shelves. Stephen Guest, whom she had attempted, quite unavailingly, to engage in conversation, was hidden behind The Times and Halliday was sitting in a deep chair with a pipe clenched between his teeth, and his moody gaze fixed on nothing in particular.