"For the police to know anything about it, you mean? Well, as a matter of fact that's the purest bad luck. There happens to be a fellow called Westbury, confound him, and that beastly bullet seems to have fetched up somewhere in his house; he lives just across the way there. That's all the police have to go on now that the other things are safely in the river mud."
Slowly it was sinking into her mind. Her eyes closed for a moment as she felt the first faint strain of the weight of it. This came with the thought of Joan.
"But—but——" she said faintly, "—that poor child——?"
"Joan? I suppose she is wondering what's happened?"
"Wondering what's happened.... You may as well know, Philip—it's a mere trifle at this stage—that they're most awfully thick—far more than you've been told. You know what boys and girls are nowadays. And now comes this horrible silence, except for that one little note from him——"
"Has she had a note from him?" Philip asked quickly. "From the hospital?"
"There was no address on it. I suppose it was from the hospital?" she in her turn asked in quick alarm.
"Yes, it wasn't from a prison. When did she get this note?"
"Yesterday morning."
"Did she show it to you?"