“Yes,” answered my friend, “you acted boldly—more boldly than I dare act. I only hope that the person who saw us will not gossip. If he does—well, then it will be decidedly awkward.”
“If he does, then we must put the best face upon matters. He probably didn’t see us take anything from the body.”
“He may have followed and watched. Most likely.”
“We’ve more to fear from somebody having seen Sybil go to the spot this afternoon. At that hour people would be at work in the fields, and anybody crossing those turnips must have been seen half a mile off.”
“Unless they made a détour and came through the wood from the opposite side, as I expect she did. She would never risk discovery by going there openly.”
“But what shall we do with all this?” I asked.
“Burn the lot; that’s my advice.”
“And if we’ve been discovered. What then? It would be awkward if the police came to us for these letters and we had burnt them. No,” I declared. “Let us keep them under lock and key—at least for the present.”
“Very well, as you like. All I hope is that nobody will identify the fellow,” my friend said. “If they do, then his connection with Sybil may be known. Recollect what the letters say about the maid Mason. She suspects.”
“That’s so,” I said, seriously. “Mason must be sent to London on some pretence the first thing in the morning. She must not be allowed to see the body.”