But Mordaunt Reeves heard no more of the sermon. He was back in his car, on the road to the dormy-house, and as he drove he talked to himself once more: “ ‘To be or not to be’—well, I’m damned!”
Chapter XX.
Proof at Last
Reeves went to sit in Gordon’s room when he got back; his own was apt to be a port of call for stray comers, and he wanted this to be a tête-à-tête.
“I wish to God,” he started, “that I’d never been dragged into this beastly thing at all.”
“Getting a brain-storm over it? Much better take to golf again; there’s no sense in worrying over a problem that won’t be solved.”
“I have solved it.”
“What!”
“I have solved it, and I wish to God I hadn’t. Look here, Gordon, I know who it was who came into my rooms and took out my Shakespeare. It was Marryatt.”
“Yes, but you don’t mean——”
“It was Marryatt who took out my Shakespeare; he wanted to look up a quotation for his evening sermon. I know what you’ll say—it was somebody else who took the Momerie. But it wasn’t; I’ve been into Marryatt’s room, and I found it there.”