“Now we’ll go back to the house,” he proposed, when he rejoined the others at the car. “That thread led me to the boat-house.”
“So the attack was made from the river?” Wendover asked.
“It’s strange that he didn’t pitch his gun into the water, isn’t it?” Sir Clinton said. “One might have expected him to get rid of it in the easiest way.”
“I expect he got a bit of a shock,” Arthur suggested. “He must have known that he hit me squarely and yet nothing happened. That would be a bit of a surprise to him, wouldn’t it. Perhaps he got rattled.”
“Lucky for you there wasn’t a second shot,” was Sir Clinton’s comment. “You could hardly expect your cigar-case to save you twice running.”
When they reached Whistlefield again, they found Ardsley talking to Torrance, who had returned from his walk. He had been out alone, it appeared. Vera had gone to her own room when Ardsley had given his news about Sylvia and had not reappeared again.
Sir Clinton took Ardsley aside for a moment.
“You’ve got a nurse upstairs in that room?”
Ardsley assented.
“One of them’s going to watch all night. There’s a superstition some people have that one shouldn’t leave a dead person alone. I don’t mind being superstitious for once, if it’s in a good cause.”