“ ‘No, not mad, said the monkey.’ ”
There fell a long silence, broken at last by the elder man.
“God!” he cried in a whisper. “Let’s get out of this room. Gethryn, it’s horrible! Horrible! Where poor old John was killed—and here we are cracking jokes and laughing!” He took Anthony by the arm and pulled him to the door.
They went into the garden through the verandah. By the windows of the study Anthony stopped and stood staring at the creeper-covered wall; staring as he had stared on the afternoon before. Sir Arthur stood at his elbow.
“Splendid sight, that creeper,” said Anthony. “Ampelopsis Veitchii, isn’t it?”
“So you’re a botanist? It may be what you say. I’m afraid it’s just creeper to me.”
Anthony, turning, saw Boyd walking towards them, and waved a hand.
“Damn!” Sir Arthur growled. “The Scotland Yard man. He arrested the boy. Officious fool!”
“Oh, Boyd’s a good chap. I like Boyd. He’s done his best. On the evidence he couldn’t do anything but take Deacon.”
“I know, I know,” said Sir Arthur impatiently. “But all the same, he——” He broke off, turning to go.