Parker was trying not to look at Norah. He began gathering up the tea-things as if to justify his presence and explain it.
"When did he go?" I said as casually as I could.
"Well, sir—the cab was ordered to catch the four thirty-five from
Midhurst."
Now the four thirty-five from Midhurst is the four forty-five from Selham, the train that Viola had gone by. We knew this; and Parker knew that we knew it. That was why, instead of stating outright that Captain Thesiger had gone by that train, he tried to soften the blow to us by saying that the cab had been ordered to catch it, and leaving it open to us to suppose that perhaps, after all, it might have missed it.
"Did he say when he was coming back?" I asked, again casually.
"He isn't coming back, sir," said Parker. "He's took his luggage with him and all."
"Of course," said Norah. "He's gone to see what they're doing at the War
Office. He said he would."
But I knew and she knew and Parker knew he hadn't—or, if he had, it was only one of the things he had gone for. Because, if the War Office had been all that he had in his mind he would have told us, and Viola would have told us, and they would have gone openly together, instead of dodging about like two clumsy criminals, one at Midhurst and the other at Selham.
When Parker had left (he did it very quickly) Norah got on her feet.
She said, "Go and find Kendal and tell him to bring the car around at once."