“I’m sorry if I was inquisitive.” The small voice was smaller and very meek.
Anthony started. “Good God! No! I didn’t mean that. Look here, I’ll tell you. I went to Abbotshall because I wanted to play burglars on the first floor. And the best time to do it was when everybody was downstairs at the inquest. See?”
“Of course. But how thrilling! Do go on. I won’t tell a soul!”
“If I hadn’t known that,” said Anthony, “I wouldn’t have said anything at all.”
“Thank you. Did you find anything—that you expected to find?”
“I found. Some of what I found I had expected to find; some not.” His tone was final and silence fell again. The big car’s speed increased. Soon they were among London’s outskirts.
“Where are you going to stay?” Anthony asked.
“Brown’s Hotel. May I go there first, please?”
To Brown’s he took her, and waited with the car till she reappeared. During the journey to Hastings’s flat in Kensington there was little opportunity for conversation. Once, threading skillfully through a press of traffic, he began to whistle, under his breath, the dirge of Cock Robin.
Then Hastings’s flat was reached. Introductions over, they were left alone in Hastings’s study while Hastings went to prepare the invalid.