Chapter Eleven
Anthony Corkran's account of his share in the night's happenings was carefully expurgated next morning when he told it over the breakfast table. He had been coached by Amberley during the drive back to the manor, and he quite realised that to disclose the other two men's presence in the cottage would be a very false step.
His own idea was to keep the whole adventure dark, but he admitted that he might be wrong when Amberley pointed out that complete silence on his part must inevitably warn the unknown housebreaker that he was suspected. The man had come from the manor; further, he must know who had followed him, since Anthony had sworn aloud at hitting his head against the window frame. If Anthony preserved a rigid silence it would only put the man on his guard.
Accordingly, Anthony told Fountain next morning when Joan had left the table that he had been up all night chasing masked men. Fountain looked at him as though he were a mild lunatic and went on with his breakfast. He was never in his best mood at this hour, and the only response he gave was a grunt.
Anthony buttered another slice of toast. "To be strictly accurate," he said, "not men, but man. One. Complete with sack."
Fountain looked up from the paper and said, with a hint of exasperation in his voice: "What the devil are you about?"
"If you don't believe me, take a look at the bicycle," said Anthony. "It wasn't good when I first mounted it. It's definitely on the sick-list now."
Fountain put the paper down. "What bicycle?" he said. "I do wish you wouldn't talk such rubbish!"
Joan's. I rode it seven miles. And back."
Fountain gave a short laugh. "Yes, I can see you riding a bicycle seven miles. Do you mind explaining the joke?"