“Oh, well, if it’s merely a case of helping someone, I’ll be delighted to do anything.”
They had reached the headland, and he took a seat by her side before saying more.
“It’s just a thing that’s puzzling me,” he explained. “You remember Mr. Dangerfield showed us those relics of the old Corinthian that night? I’ve had another look at them, and I feel sure there’s something behind the business. I’d like to talk it over with you, just to see what you make of it. Of course, we say nothing to anyone else about it—that’s understood?”
Eileen nodded agreement.
“Go ahead then, Conway. But I shan’t be much help, I know.”
Westenhanger pulled out his copy of the Corinthian’s document.
“This is the thing. I feel sure that it’s the key to something or other. The Dangerfields evidently have made nothing of it, so I thought I’d try my hand—or our hands—at it.”
Eileen took the paper from him and scanned it for a moment.
“You’ve come to the wrong girl. I don’t know Latin and I don’t play chess. What help could I be?”
“Well, ask any questions you like. Perhaps they’ll suggest something. That’s the way you can help.”