“Well, this is actually what I found.” With a dramatic gesture he produced a small waterproof wallet, and turned out its contents. “You will find a thousand pounds there, all in Bank of England notes.”
“Well,” said Bredon, when the exclamations of surprise had died away, “are you still suspecting young Simmonds?”
“I’m not easy about him yet in my own mind. But of course I see Brinkman’s deeper in this business than I had suspected so far. A man who’s innocent doesn’t prepare to do a bolt with a thousand pounds and a motor-car that doesn’t belong to him.”
“Well,” said Bredon, “I suppose we ought to be keeping an eye on Mr. Brinkman.”
“My dear old thing,” said Leyland, “don’t you realize that I’ve had two of my men at the Swan all this week, and that Brinkman hasn’t been unaccounted for for one moment? The trouble is, he knows he’s being watched, so he won’t give himself away. At least I’m pretty sure of it. But the motor, of course, puts us in a very good position. We know how he means to escape, and we can afford to take the watch off him and put it on the motor instead. Then he’ll shew his hand, because he’s mad keen to be off. At present he’s in his room, smoking a cigarette and reading an old novel. He won’t move, I think, until he makes certain that we’re all out of the way. Probably not till after supper, because a night ride will suit his purpose best. And he’s got a night for it too; there’s a big storm coming on, unless I’m mistaken.”
“And what about Simmonds?” asked Bredon.
“And the barmaid?” added Angela.
“Well, of course I could question both or either of them. But I’d sooner not, if I can help it; it’s cruel work, I was wondering if you, Mrs. Bredon, could go and have a talk to that maid after we’ve had our tea, and see what satisfaction you can get out of her?”
“I don’t mind at all. In fact, I rather want to have it out with dear Emmeline. I owe her one, you see. Meanwhile, let’s have tea by all means. I wonder if Brinky will come down to it?”
Brinkman did come down, and tea was not a very enlivening meal. Everybody in the room looked upon him as a man who was probably a murderer and certainly a thief. Consequently everybody tried to be nice to him, and everybody’s style was cramped by the effort. Even Mr. Pulteney’s verbosity seemed to have been dried up by the embarrassment of the situation. On the whole, Eames carried it off best. His dry, melancholy manner was quite unaltered; he talked about patience to Bredon, he talked Pullford gossip to Brinkman; he tried to draw out Pulteney on educational questions. But most of the party were glad when it was over, when Brinkman had shut himself up again, and Angela had betaken herself to the back premises to have it out with the barmaid.