“It hasn’t worked!” she exclaimed. “That’s hard lines, Conway.”
“No, it hasn’t worked,” he answered, in a tone of perplexity. “And yet I feel absolutely sure that we’re on the right track. It all fits together too neatly to be wrong. Those four moves ought to have released some catch or other. I expected one of the Chess-board squares to spring up, or something like that. But nothing’s happened.”
He lifted the iron pieces one by one and restored each to its proper place in the cupboard.
“There’s some step we’ve missed, evidently. I wonder what it can be.”
Just as he closed the cupboard door, Cynthia came into the room.
“Oh, you’re here, Eileen? I’ve been hunting for you all over the place. We want you, if Mr. Westenhanger can spare you just now.”
She asked Westenhanger’s permission with a glance; and he made a gesture of release.
“I’ll think over it,” he said to Eileen. “Perhaps I may hit on something.”
After the two girls had left the room he stood for a time staring at the Chess-board; but it seemed to suggest nothing fresh to him. He returned to the library, pulled out his copy of the Corinthian’s document and fell to studying it once more. As he opened out the paper, his eye was caught by the part of the inscription which hitherto he had neglected:
Matt. VI. 21; Luke XII. 34.