“Then Thorold—and you, also, I take it—have had to do with uttering base coin.”
“You are wrong—in a sense. It may appear so to you. It would seem so to most people, most likely. In point of fact we are both innocent. We have been made a catspaw—how I cannot explain. You see, I am wholly frank with you. That is because I trust you, Ashton—and I don’t trust many men, I can assure you.”
This was getting interesting.
Whichelo, finding how much I knew, had unreservedly thrown off all pretence. I suppose he thought it his safest plan, as indeed it was. I had given him my word I would hold my peace if he dealt with me openly, and evidently he believed me.
From the morning-room we had strolled towards the back premises, and this conversation had taken place in the butler’s pantry, quite a big room. The only door was immediately behind us. All the time we had been conversing—and we must now have talked for over an hour—the door had stood half-open. Now, happening, for some reason, to turn round, I noticed that it was shut.
“Hullo!” I exclaimed, starting up surprised. “Why, I thought that door was open!”
At once we dashed over to it. I turned the handle to the right and tugged at it; then to the left and again tugged. It had been locked from the outside—shut and locked so carefully, that we had not heard a sound.
I bent down to examine the lock.
The key was still in it—on the outside!
I drew back, and held my breath. What did it mean?