“You and I are going to meet again in that mill-house. And we are going to talk about it openly beforehand, so that we can be jolly sure Brinkman will creep up behind and listen to us. And when we’ve got him comfortably fixed there listening to us, you and I are going to lead him up the garden. We are going to make him overhear something which is really meant for his ears, though he thinks it’s meant for anybody’s ears rather than his own.”
“Oh, I see—a fake conversation. I say, I’m not much of an actor. Angela would do it far better than I should.”
“There’s no acting wanted. All you’ve got to do is to sit there and argue pigheadedly about it’s being suicide, the same as you always do. Meanwhile, I’ll do the fake part—or rather, it won’t be much of a fake, either. I shall repeat what I told you yesterday, about suspecting Simmonds. That’s all true enough; I do suspect the man; though I wish he wasn’t so confoundedly innocent and self-possessed under examination. Then I shall say that I also suspect Brinkman—not letting on, of course, about the cigarette and all that, but putting up some ground or other for suspicion. Simmonds, I shall say, is clearly the murderer, but I’ve reason to think Brinkman knows more about it than he ought to do. I shall say that I’m going to have Brinkman shadowed, and that I’m going to get a warrant for his arrest. At the same time, I shall say I think he’s a fool not to own up, if his share in the business is not a guilty one. And so on. Then we just wait and see how Brinkman reacts.”
“I should think he’d skip.”
“That’s what I want him to do. Of course, I’ve got him shadowed already. If he makes a determined bolt for it that gives me reasonable ground for putting him under arrest.”
“What else can he do?”
“Well, if he’s relatively innocent, he might confide in you about it.”
“Oh, I see, that’s the game. Damn it, why did I ever consent to become a spy? Leyland, I don’t like this job. It’s too—too underhand.”
“Well, you were an intelligence officer, weren’t you? There was no trick you wouldn’t play, while the war was on, to beat the Germans. Why should you be more squeamish about it when you’ve the well-being of society to consider? Your job is to protect the interests of all the honest men who’ve insured with your company. My business is to see that harmless people don’t get gassed in their sleep. In any case, we’ve got to get at the truth. I might even point out that we’ve got a bet on it.”
“But look here, if Brinkman confides in me, am I to betray his confidence? That hardly seems cricket.”
“Well, if you’re not a fool, you’d better avoid making any promise of secrecy. You must act up to your own confounded conscience, I suppose. But remember, Brinkman can’t get away; I’ve got him watched all right. If his part in the show is quite an innocent one, you’d better point out to him that his best plan is to make a clean breast of it.”
“Well, I’ll help you bait the trap. If Brinkman comes to me about it, I can’t answer for what I’ll do—unless you subpoena me, of course. By the way, what happens if Brinkman doesn’t react at all? If he simply does nothing about it?”
“We shall be just where we were before. But I think if we give him a lead he’s almost certain to take it. After all, there’s no reason why he should stay on here, but he hasn’t shown any signs of moving yet. Once the funeral’s over, he’ll be anxious to put things straight, if only to get a fresh job.”
By now they were on their return journey, on the road leading down the valley; the twilight was gathering, but the few street-lamps which Chilthorpe afforded had not yet been lit. It was but natural that on a summer evening such a road as this should be a trysting-place of lovers. There is a sentimental streak in all our natures which warns us that a young man and a young woman sharing a railway carriage must be left to share it; and equally that a pair of lovers in a lane must be passed by as hastily as possible, with no inquisitive looks thrown in their direction. It is our instinct thus to propitiate the Paphian Queen. It was characteristic of Bredon that, as he passed one of these couples from behind, seeing their heads close together in earnest colloquy, he quickened his pace and never looked backward. It was equally characteristic of Leyland that, although he too quickened his pace, he did let his eye rest on the pair for a moment—lightly, it seemed, and uncomprehendingly. But when they were out of earshot he showed that his had been no casual glance. “You saw them, Bredon, eh? You saw them?”
“I saw there were some people there. I didn’t—”
“You wouldn’t. But it doesn’t do to miss these things. The young lady is the barmaid at our hotel, the lady who always says ‘Raight-ho!’ when you ask for anything. And the young man is our friend Mr. Simmonds. It looks as if a mésalliance were in contemplation, from the Simmonds point of view. And it means—well, it may mean almost anything.”
“Or almost nothing.”
“Well, if you ask me, it seems to be a matter of importance to know that Simmonds has got his foot inside the door, so to speak, at the Load of Mischief. He had somebody there to let him in and let him out late at night. He had somebody to cover his traces, if necessary, when the crime was over. I think our nets are beginning to close at last.”
“Like to hide behind the hedge and listen to what they’re saying?”
“Why, it might be done. But it
