“This isn’t going to be so easy, after all,” he concluded, with more hesitation in his manner. “I can’t go running round them, asking that particular question bluntly, or the thief will be put on his guard long before it comes to his turn. This affair will need careful handling—very careful. And I’ll need to try a blank experiment first with someone who is absolutely above suspicion. I know how I’d do the thing, but I’m prejudiced subconsciously, probably. I’ll need some subject who doesn’t know what I’m after.”
He ran over in his mind the list of the house-party.
“Douglas, of course! He’s the man. He offered to help if I needed him, and he’s able to keep his tongue quiet.”
Then a fresh thought occurred to him. A picture of Eileen Cressage’s strained face came up in his memory and changed his immediate purpose.
“I’ll see her first, and try it,” he decided. “After all, the main thing is to clear her and get her out of this affair if possible. Once that’s done, there will be time enough to think about Douglas.”
It took him longer than he expected to hit upon a line of procedure that satisfied him. More than once he was forced to discard an idea which proved faulty after consideration and think out something fresh. At last, however, his plans seemed to be sound so far as he could see. He closed the door of the Corinthian’s Room and made his way into the hall. Freddie Stickney was sitting beside the main entrance, evidently deep in thought.
“Wake up, Freddie!” Westenhanger brutally interrupted the reflections of the amateur detective. “Seen Douglas about anywhere?”
“I think he’s been playing tennis. Most likely he’s still down at the courts.”
“Oh! Seen Cynthia and Miss Cressage since breakfast?”
Westenhanger was careful to couple Eileen’s name with Cynthia’s in his demand. He had no desire to let Freddie know that he was in search of Eileen in particular.