Without another word he resumed his walk and plodded steadily on without so much as a backward glance.
But I knew now that my surmises were accurate—that Sir William Clevedon’s continued and unexplained absence was breeding deadly and sinister fears in the bosoms of his friends, of his sister especially. That she was at the bottom of Thoyne’s mysterious activities seemed clear enough. It was for her sake, probably at her instigation, that he had tried so hard to envelop me in fog. And it seemed evident that she was in possession of knowledge which, so far, neither Pepster nor myself had penetrated. It would be my business to discover what that was. I had not, however, very long to wait.
CHAPTER XVII
MORE ABOUT BILLY CLEVEDON
Thoyne must have started off immediately for Cartordale because it was no later than the next morning, while I was seriously considering whether I should return home or follow Pepster to Dublin that I received a wire from Thoyne reading: “Can you see K.C. and self at C. to-morrow?” K.C. was Kitty and C. was Cartordale and I was not long in making up my mind. I wired off a prompt reply suggesting Stone Hollow as the place of meeting. They were awaiting me when I arrived and they had evidently agreed that Thoyne should start the talking.
“We want to know,” he began slowly, “which side you would take if—”
He stopped there, perhaps expecting me to help him out. But I remained stubbornly silent.
“Suppose,” he went on, taking a sudden plunge, “you proved that—that Clevedon did—was involved in—in the death of Sir Philip—would you take your proof to the police?”
“I will make no promises either way,” I replied. “You sent for me and I am here. Why did you invite me to come and what have I to do with it, anyway? You need say nothing unless you wish. And in any case, I am not a detective but a writer of books—”
“Then why need you tell the police?” Kitty interposed softly.
“Tell them what?” I demanded, turning suddenly upon her.