"It--the only thing that ought to be done."
"What do you mean?"
"When the others went upstairs to bed Miss Hilda retired into an inner drawing-room and sat down at a writing-table. There is no post out of here until lunch-time to-morrow. Therefore she was probably writing to some one in the house."
Dicky nodded comprehendingly.
"Proceed, Sherlock," he said.
"To whom was she writing?" I enquired.
Dicky thought.
"To me," he announced at length. "Economical hobby. No stamps required. Well?"
"Supposing," I continued, "that Miss Beverley has been writing to you to-night--what then?"
"I shall receive a letter from her in the morning," concluded Dicky. "Eh? Wrong answer? Sorry! What will happen, then?"