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Page 60
So he had run. But Antony had kept up with him. They had broken
in the window together, and gone into the office. But Cayley was
not done yet. There was the dressing-room window! But quietly,
quietly. Antony mustn't hear.
And Antony didn't hear. Indeed, he had played up to Cayley
splendidly. Not only had he called attention to the open window,
but he had carefully explained to Cayley why Mark had chosen this
particular window in preference to the office window. And Cayley
had agreed that probably that was the reason. How he must have
chuckled to himself! But he was still a little afraid. Afraid
that Antony would examine the shrubbery. Why? Obviously because
there was no trace of anyone having broken through the shrubbery.
No doubt Cayley had provided the necessary traces since, and had
helped the Inspector to find them. Had he even gone as far as
footmarks in Mark's shoes? But the ground was very hard.
Perhaps footmarks were not necessary. Antony smiled as he
thought of the big Cayley trying to squeeze into the dapper
little Mark's shoes. Cayley must have been glad that footmarks
were not necessary.
No, the open window was enough; the open window and a broken twig
or two. But quietly, quietly. Antony mustn't hear. And Antony
had not heard .... But he had seen a shadow on the wall.
They were outside on the lawn again now, Bill and Antony, and
Bill was listening open-mouthed to his friend's theory of
yesterday's happenings. It fitted in, it explained things, but
it did not get them any further. It only gave them another
mystery to solve.
"What's that?" said Antony.
"Mark. Where's Mark? If he never went into the office at all,
then where is he now?"
"I don't say that he never went into the office. In fact, he
must have gone. Elsie heard him." He stopped and repeated
slowly, "She heard him, at least she says she did. But if he was
there, he came out again by the door."
"Well, but where does that lead you?"
"Where it led Mark. The passage."
"Do you mean that he's been hiding there all the time?" Antony
was silent until Bill had repeated his question, and then with an
effort he came out of his thoughts and answered him.
"I don't know. But look here. Here is a possible explanation.
I don't know if it is the right one I don't know, Bill; I'm
rather frightened. Frightened of what may have happened, of what
may be going to happen. However, here is an explanation. See if
you can find any fault with it."
With his legs stretched out and his hands deep in his pockets, he
lay back on the garden-seat, looking up to the blue summer sky
above him, and just as if he saw up there the events of yesterday
being enacted over again, he described them slowly to Bill as
they happened.
"We'll begin at the moment when Mark shoots Robert. Call it an
accident; probably it was. Mark would say it was, anyhow. He is
in a panic, naturally. But he doesn't lock the door and run
away. For one thing, the key is on the outside of the door; for
another, he is not, quite such a fool as that. But he is in a
horrible position. He is known to be on bad terms with his
brother; he has just uttered some foolish threat to him, which
may possibly have been overheard. What is he to do? He does the
natural thing, the thing which Mark would always do in such
circumstances. He consults Cayley, the invaluable, inevitable
Cayley.
"Cayley is just outside, Cayley must have heard the shot, Cayley
will tell him what to do. He opens the door just as Cayley is
coming to see what is the matter. He explains rapidly. 'What's
to be done, Cay? what's to be done? It was an accident. I
swear it was an accident. He threatened me. He would have shot
me if I hadn't. Think of something, quick!'
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