do now? There are two courses open to us. A: Ring up the police, tell the whole story, and trust to your unassailable position in the world and your hitherto blameless life. B: An attempt on my part to dispose successfully of the body. Naturally my private inclinations urge me to B. I’ve always wanted to see if I couldn’t conceal a crime with the necessary cunning, but have had a squeamish objection to shedding blood. On the whole, I expect A’s the soundest. Then there’s a sort of bowdlerized A. Ring up the police, etc., but suppress the pistol and the blackmailing letters—that is, if they are on him still.”
Anthony ran rapidly through the dead man’s pockets.
“He’s been stripped clean,” he announced. “There’s not a thing on him. There’ll be dirty work at the crossroads over those letters yet. Hullo, what’s this? Hole in the lining—something got caught there, torn roughly out, and a scrap of paper left behind.”
He drew out the scrap of paper as he spoke, and brought it over to the light. Virginia joined him.
“Pity we haven’t got the rest of it,” he muttered. “Chimneys 11.45 Thursday Sounds like an appointment.”
“Chimneys?” cried Virginia. “How extraordinary!”
“Why extraordinary? Rather high toned for such a low fellow?”
“I’m going to Chimneys this evening. At least I was.”
Anthony wheeled round on her.
“What’s that? Say that again.”
“I was going to Chimneys this evening,” repeated Virginia.
Anthony stared at her.
“I begin to see. At least, I may be wrong—but it’s an idea. Suppose some one wanted badly to prevent your going to Chimneys?”
“My cousin George Lomax does,” said Virginia with a smile. “But I can’t seriously suspect George of murder.”
Anthony did not smile. He was lost in thought.
“If you ring up the police, it’s good-bye to any idea of getting to Chimneys to-day—or even to-morrow. And I should like you to go to Chimneys. I fancy it will disconcert our unknown friends. Mrs. Revel, will you put yourself in my hands?”
“It’s to be Plan B, then?”
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