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Page 68
Antony, who had just looked round again, turned back with a
smile.
"What's the joke?" said Bill, glad of the more social atmosphere.
"Cayley. Didn't you see?"
"See what?"
"The car. Going past on the road there."
"So that's what you were looking for. You've got jolly good
eyes, my boy, if you recognize the car at this distance after
only seeing it twice."
"Well, I have got jolly good eyes."
"I thought he was going to Stanton."
"He hoped you'd think so obviously."
"Then where is he going?"
"The library, probably. To consult our friend Ussher. After
making quite sure that his friends Beverley and Gillingham really
were going to Jallands, as they said."
Bill stopped suddenly in the middle of the path.
"I say, do you think so?"
Antony shrugged his shoulders.
"I shouldn't be surprised. We must be devilishly inconvenient
for him, hanging about the house. Any moment he can get, when
we're definitely somewhere else, must be very useful to him."
"Useful for what?"
"Well, useful for his nerves, if for nothing else. We know he's
mixed up in this business; we know he's hiding a secret or two.
Even if he doesn't suspect that we're on his tracks, he must feel
that at any moment we might stumble on something."
Bill gave a grunt of assent, and they went slowly on again.
"What about to-night?" he said, after a lengthy blow at his pipe.
"Try a piece of grass," said Antony, offering it to him. Bill
pushed it through the mouthpiece, blew again, said, "That's
better," and returned the pipe to his pocket.
"How are we going to get out without Cayley knowing?"
"Well, that wants thinking over. It's going to be difficult. I
wish we were sleeping at the inn .... Is this Miss Norbury, by
any chance?"
Bill looked up quickly. They were close to Jallands now, an old
thatched farmhouse which, after centuries of sleep, had woken up
to a new world, and had forthwith sprouted wings; wings, however,
of so discreet a growth that they had not brought with them any
obvious change of character, and Jallands even with a bathroom
was still Jallands. To the outward view, at any rate. Inside,
it was more clearly Mrs. Norbury's.
"Yes Angela Norbury," murmured Bill. "Not bad-looking, is she?"
The girl who stood by the little white gate of Jallands was
something more than "not bad-looking," but in this matter Bill
was keeping his superlatives for another. In Bill's eyes she
must be judged, and condemned, by all that distinguished her from
Betty Calladine. To Antony, unhampered by these standards of
comparison, she seemed, quite simply, beautiful.
"Cayley asked us to bring a letter along," explained Bill, when
the necessary handshakings and introductions were over. "Here
you are."
"You will tell him, won't you, how dreadfully sorry I am about
what has happened? It seems so hopeless to say anything; so
hopeless even to believe it. If it is true what we've heard."
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