At last Campion rose to his feet and came across to where Meggie and Abbershaw were seated. Gravely he offered Abbershaw his cigarette-case in which there was a single cigarette neatly cut into two pieces.
‘I did it with a razor blade,’ he said. ‘Rather neat, don’t you think?’
Abbershaw took the half gratefully and they shared a match.
‘I suppose,’ said Campion suddenly, speaking in a quiet and confidential tone, ‘I suppose you did really burn that junk, Doc.’
Abbershaw glanced at him sharply.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘God forgive me. When I think what I’m responsible for I feel I shall go mad.’
Mr Campion shrugged his shoulders.
‘My dear old bird,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t put too much stress on what our friend von Faber says. He doesn’t seem to me to be a person to be relied upon.’
‘Why? Do you think he’s just trying to frighten us?’
Abbershaw spoke eagerly, and the other shook his head.