Dr. Ringwood nodded, as though contented by the information.
“Then you don't run much risk of taking it from her. That simplifies things. I'd rather not shift her to-night, just in case the van lost its way. But if you can look after her for a few hours, it will be all right.”
The maid did not seem altogether overjoyed at this suggestion. Dr. Ringwood sought for some way out of the difficulty.
“There's nobody at home to-night, is there?”
“No, sir. Mr. Silverdale hasn't been home since lunch-time, and Mrs. Silverdale went out immediately after dinner.”
“When will she be back?”
“Not till late, sir, I expect. Young Mr. Hassendean came to dinner, and they went off in his car. I expect they've gone to the Alhambra to dance, sir.”
Dr. Ringwood repressed his involuntary movement at the name Hassendean.
“When in doubt, play the medicine-man card,” he concluded swiftly in his mind, without betraying anything outwardly. It seemed possible that he might get some evidence out of the maid before she became confused by any police visit. He assumed an air of doubt as he turned again to the woman.
“Did Mrs. Silverdale come much in contact with the housemaid during the day?”