"I see that you've guessed it," Corkran said. "What I said about the sailor - no, sorry! seafaring man was untrue. It was really brought by a man who gave two resounding knocks upon the door and delivered it up in absolute silence. He did not wait, but went off as silently as he had come…'
"You get a very late first post," remarked Amberley. "I hate to interrupt this enthralling recital, but do you happen to know what the news was?"
"Oh, listen to this, everybody!" said Corkran. "The great detective scents a clue! Do not miss tomorrow's fine instalment. No, Mr. Holmes, I do not. But upon my return to the ancestral home I will lure Brother Basil away by a cunning ruse and burst open the safe. If he's got one. If not I'll just go through all the correspondence in his desk and trust to luck. Among the most soughtafter guests for this season's house parties is Mr. Anthony Corkran, whose ready tact and savoir-faire make him so universally popular."
"You are an ass," said Felicity. "I'm sorry it's upset Joan, though. Perhaps Basil's lost a lot of money on the stock exchange."
"No. Wrong. That I do know."
Amberley was looking at him. "What else do you know, Corks? Mind divulging it?"
Anthony looked doubtful. "Well — not strictly the clean potato, is it? What I mean is - guest in the man's house, you know. The Public-School Spirit, and Playing for the Side, and all that wash. That's how Brother Basil talks, by the way. He does really."
"How do you know it was bad news at all?" asked Felicity.
"Well, when a chap opens a letter, reads it and turns a sort of pea-green, and sits staring at the fatal document like one struck with the palsy, the astute spectator at once divines the cause. Besides, I asked him."
"Did he say it was?"