“I had no idea of it, none at all,” he repeated. He did not tell them what the trouble was nor why he had wanted the money.
“I would have lent—” Thoyne was beginning, but Billy airily dismissed the suggestion.
“I’m all right for a bit and I’ll make the blasted baronet shell out somehow,” he said. “Don’t you worry. But I’m busy now—an engagement I must meet. I’ll see you later on. Meanwhile you cut clear of the swine.”
“Aren’t you coming to Cartordale?” Kitty asked him.
“Presently,” he told them, “but not to-night. Thoyne, you take her home.”
Thoyne did and left her at Hapforth House early in the evening.
The next day—the fatal 23rd—passed without any word from Billy. We know what happened on that day—Thoyne’s quarrel with the baronet and Kitty’s visit to White Towers in the evening. But the latter did not return directly to Hapforth House. She ran her little two-seater into Midlington only some twelve miles distant and called at the hotel at which she had met her brother on the previous day. But he was not there. He had paid his bill, packed his bag and departed.
She returned to Cartordale but her car broke down on the way and she pushed it to the side of the road and tried a short cut to Hapforth House, missing her way in the fog and landing in my study. The next day came the tragic story of Sir Philip’s death and though both she and Thoyne affected to believe that Billy could have had nothing to do with it, they were nevertheless terribly anxious and alarmed, the more as the days went on and nothing was heard of or from him.
“And now let me reduce it to definite dates,” I said. “You will check me if I am wrong. You left your brother at the ‘King’s Head’ in Midlington on the afternoon of February 22nd. He left the hotel on the morning of February 23rd. Sir Philip Clevedon died on the night of the 23rd.”
They nodded a joint affirmative.