“Well, your guess is right, as it happens, but my penmanship is rather free and easy, and I don’t think you’ll find much value—” I was speaking slowly but thinking fast. Had I put down anything positively libellous, anything I’d hesitate to sign my name to?
“Let me try, all the same. You and I are both detached onlookers in this thing, Mr. Bannerlee, and I shouldn’t be surprised if we supplement each other pretty fully. I’m quite frankly selfish, you see,” he admitted easily. “I want to know all you know without telling you what I know.”
“Oh, I’ll trust you to repay me, not later than noon to-morrow,” I said. “Come along upstairs with me while I get the sheets for you—unless you’ll wait until after dinner.”
“There’s no after dinner for me; I’m not taking dinner,” he answered, and we went up the stairs together. “I had a snack in New Aidenn with something like this in prospect. Time’s what counts. It will be dark too soon to suit me.”
Same day. 7 P.M.
Please God, the experiment is over. It was not long.
About five this afternoon Heatheringham came into the library where I was writing about the events of the day. He had wrestled with my script since I had left him to go down to dinner, and he seemed even better-humoured than before.
“I want some tea,” he said. “I want some tea, and yet, while there’s light, I want a little assistance from the people here.”
“Are you commandeering the servants, too?”
“No, I can do without the servants, except that one who brought the hot water.”