Didcott laughed in a strained and unnatural manner. "Ha, ha! So stupid of me! I had forgotten. It does belong to me."
The eyebrows of the other two ascended to the altitudes.
"I'll get it," said Didcott, blithely.
"HE FLUNG THE PARCEL CONTAINING THE MS. OVER WESTMINSTER BRIDGE."
He sprang on to the step, and dragged forth the package. "So much obliged to you. Thank you very much." He tucked the parcel under his arm. "Good-bye."
He turned and hastened along the bridge southwards, leaving the policeman and the cabman regarding him with doubtful eyes. He crossed the bridge, and wandered about in the streets on the Surrey side for nearly an hour before he ventured to retrace his steps.
As he walked back over the bridge, he felt the parcel heavy in his hands. Could he not get rid of it for good and all? Why not drop it over the bridge? No one was in sight. He leant over and looked at the dark waters. Everything was quiet. In an instant, making up his mind, he flung the parcel into the silent river. He heard the splash that followed, and with the sound came an overwhelming sense of guilt.
He turned and hastened homewards, but he had gone only a few yards when, to his consternation, the same policeman confronted him.
"I've been watching you," said the constable.