“We shall be just where we were before. But I think if we give him a lead he’s almost certain to take it. After all, there’s no reason why he should stay on here, but he hasn’t shown any signs of moving yet. Once the funeral’s over, he’ll be anxious to put things straight, if only to get a fresh job.”
By now they were on their return journey, on the road leading down the valley; the twilight was gathering, but the few street-lamps which Chilthorpe afforded had not yet been lit. It was but natural that on a summer evening such a road as this should be a trysting-place of lovers. There is a sentimental streak in all our natures which warns us that a young man and a young woman sharing a railway carriage must be left to share it; and equally that a pair of lovers in a lane must be passed by as hastily as possible, with no inquisitive looks thrown in their direction. It is our instinct thus to propitiate the Paphian Queen. It was characteristic of Bredon that, as he passed one of these couples from behind, seeing their heads close together in earnest colloquy, he quickened his pace and never looked backward. It was equally characteristic of Leyland that, although he too quickened his pace, he did let his eye rest on the pair for a moment—lightly, it seemed, and uncomprehendingly. But when they were out of earshot he shewed that his had been no casual glance. “You saw them, Bredon, eh? You saw them?”
“I saw there were some people there. I didn’t”——
“You wouldn’t. But it doesn’t do to miss these things. The young lady is the barmaid at our hotel, the lady who always says ‘Raight-ho!’ when you ask for anything. And the young man is our friend Mr. Simmonds. It looks as if a mésalliance were in contemplation, from the Simmonds point of view. And it means—well, it may mean almost anything.”
“Or almost nothing.”
“Well, if you ask me, it seems to be a matter of importance to know that Simmonds has got his foot inside the door, so to speak, at the Load of Mischief. He had somebody there to let him in and let him out late at night. He had somebody to cover his traces, if necessary, when the crime was over. I think our nets are beginning to close at last.”
“Like to hide behind the hedge and listen to what they’re saying?”
“Why, it might be done. But it seemed to me they had their voices lowered all the time, not merely while we were passing. No, I think it’s the bar parlour for me.”
Angela was far more enthusiastic than her husband over the proposed ambush. “You see, Brinky can’t really be a very nice man, or he wouldn’t have been listening at our keyhole. Just think, I might have been ticking you off about your table manners or something. No, if he will go and hide in the arras he must take what he gets, like Polonius. And, after all, if he does come to you afterward, and wants to sob on your bosom, you can always refuse to promise secrecy. The world would be such a much happier place if people wouldn’t make promises.”
“None at all?”