"I thought it was." Francis strolled over to the desk, and stubbed out the end of his cigarette in the brass ash-tray there. "I don't think you need bother to circulate the numbers, Inspector. I rather imagine I have the missing notes."
Chapter Fifteen
An astonished silence greeted this casual announcement. Only the Inspector continued to steadily to watch Francis, without betraying either surprise or suspicion.
"Or, rather," added Francis, still in a conversational voice of unconcern, "I had them yesterday. Since then they have, to my regret, changed hands."
"This is very extraordinary," pronounced Mr. Tremlowe.
"Yes, that was what I thought," agreed Francis.
"I must ask you to explain a little more fully, pleas. Captain Billington-Smith," said Harding.
"Certainly," said Francis. "One hundred and thirty pounds was the precise sum I asked my uncle for on Monday morning." His glance flickered to Dinah's face. "No, my sweet, he did not give it to me. He was not in the mood. Geoffrey had been so tactless, hadn't he?"
"Was your need of that exact sum urgent, Captain Billington-Smith?" interposed Harding.
"Decidedly. A debt of honour. Isn't that delightfully old-world? But my cousin Geoffrey had been inconsiderate enough to enrage his father. It was stupid of me to approach him at that moment, of course. I quite thought that between us my cousin and I had queered the financial pitch for some little time to come. However, my uncle apparently relented sooner than I had expected. I received notes to the value of one hundred and thirty pounds yesterday morning."