Peter was not quite satisfied with this. "Yes, I know, but what do you propose to do? We're getting a little tired of this mystery, and we'd like a stop put to it."
"Well, sir, I'm sure I can understand that, and you may depend upon it we shall do our best. And if I might suggest something, I wouldn't advise either of you gentlemen to mention to anyone that you've been to see me about this. Whoever it is that has been annoying you, we don't want to put him on his guard, and once you tell one person a bit of news it has a way of spreading."
"Quite so," Peter said. "We have been rather careful all through not to talk of what has happened. But you still haven't told us what you mean to do. Are you going to but a man on to watch the Priory?"
"Yes," Charles said, flicking a speck of cigarette ash off his sleeve, "and if you do, need he smash the cucumber frames? It isn't that they contain any cucumbers, but…'
The inspector's lips twitched. "I quite understand, sir. But…'
"And he's not to frighten the housemaid," Charles continued. "Also, I may be unreasonable, but I have a constitutional dislike for being arrested in my own grounds. If I can't come and go unchallenged I shall become unnerved, and the consequences may be hideous."
"My brother-in-law," said Peter, thinking it time to intervene, "is referring to the well-meaning efforts of Constable Flinders."
"Yes, sir. Very annoying, I'm sure. But you won't be worried in that way again. If you will leave the matter in our hands, I think I can promise we shall be able to clear it all up in a very short while."
"Well, I must say I hope so," Peter remarked, gathering up his hat and stick. "We came down to Framley for a quiet holiday, and so far we've had no peace at all."
Just a moment," Charles said. "What about Duval?"
The inspector fingered the tips of his moustache. "I've made a note of all you told me about him, sir."
"Yes, I know: I saw you. But doesn't it strike you that he might, if interrogated skilfully, throw a good deal more light on the matter?"
"He might, sir, and of course we shall have to consider that. But on the other hand you never know with these dope-maniacs. Still, I shall go into it. You can safely leave it to me."
Peter looked at Charles. "I think that's all, isn't it? There's nothing else we wanted to ask the inspector?"
Charles' expression of rather sleepy boredom had been growing steadily more marked. "I can't remember anything else," he replied. "Unless you think we might invite him to come and take part in our seance to-night? Or do you think the presence of a stranger might make the Monk shy?"
"Yes, I do," said Peter hastily, and edged him towards the door.
The inspector held it open for them, and they went through into the charge room. A man in a felt hat and a light raincoat was standing by the counter that ran across the end of the room, and as the door opened he glanced over his shoulder. For a fleeting instant his eyes encountered Charles', then he turned his back again, and bent over some form he appeared to be filling in. But quickly though he moved Charles had had time to recognise him. It was Michael Strange.
"Oh, half a minute!" Charles said. "I think I've left my gloves on your table, inspector."
"Gloves? You didn't have any, did you?" Peter asked.
"Yes, I did," Charles said, and went past him, back into the room. He motioned to the inspector to close the door, and as soon as this had been done, he said softly: "No gloves at all, but I've just seen the very man we've been discussing. Strange."
"Have you, sir? Here?" the inspector asked.
"Outside, filling up some form. He didn't want me to recognise him, for he turned his back at once. I should like very much to know what he's doing. It looks to me as though he followed us here, to find out what we were up to.
The inspector nodded. "Good job you saw him, sir. Now you go out, will you, quite naturally, and I'll have a word with this Mr. Strange, just casually, you understand. I shall soon find out what he came for." He pulled the door open again. "That's right, sir. And you'd be surprised the number of pairs of gentlemen's gloves that get lost. Not but what you could hardly leave them in a better place than the station-house, could you? Good morning to you, sir."
Outside Charles looked round for Strange's car, but it was not visible. Since it seemed improbable that he had walked to Manfield it was clear that he had parked it somewhere where it would not be seen. Charles got into his own car, and waited for Peter to take his place beside him. As he let in the clutch Peter said: "Well, where are the gloves?"
"In the top right-hand drawer of my dressing-table so far as I know," Charles answered. "That, my boy, was a blind."
"Was it indeed? Why?"
"Did you see that fellow who was waiting in the charge room?"
"No - that is, yes, I believe I did notice someone, now you come to mention it. I can't say I paid much attention to him, though. What about him?"
"Michael Strange."
"No!" Peter said. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. He turned his head as I came out of the inspector's room. That inspector-fellow is going to ask what his business is. With all due deference to Inspector Tomlinson I could have told him the answer. He'll dish up some cock-and-bull story of having lost something, but if he didn't follow us to try and find out just what we were going to tell the police, I'm a Dutchman." He hooted violently at an Austin Seven which was wavering undecidedly in the middle of the road. "And I wouldn't mind betting that he overheard every word we said in that room."
"It does look like it, but wasn't there a bobby in the charge room?"
"There was when we came out, but do you suppose a clever fellow couldn't have got rid of him for quite as long as he wanted?"
"Might, of course. But how the devil did Strange know we were coming here to-day?"
"Well, we've talked about it pretty freely, haven't we?"
"In our own house, Chas!"
"Also while we were getting the car out of the ditch. You said: "If they don't buck up with that horse we shan't have time to get to Manfield and back before lunch."'
"I didn't say anything about the police-station, did I?"
"I don't remember. But whatever you said it looks as though you were overheard, and Mr. Michael Strange thought it worth his while to follow us."
Peter sat pondering it for a while. "Of course he might have been concealed in the wood, but, dash it! he must be pretty acute if he connected a visit to Manfield with the police! Why, half the countryside goes to shop there! No, it looks to me as though someone told him."
"Who?"
"The housemaid! She could have heard us talking at breakfast."
"My dear Peter, she's no crook's accomplice!"
"She's a dam' silly girl though, and if Strange wanted to pump her he could."
They had emerged from the outskirts of the town into the open country, and Charles put his foot on the accelerator. "Yes, that's possible, of course. One thing that seems to me quite obvious is that Strange is going to be more than a match for Inspector Tomlinson."
Peter waited until the car had swung round a bend in the road before he spoke. Charles' driving, skilful though it might be, kept his passengers in a constant state of breathlessness. "Do you think Tomlinson means to do anything, or does he discount all we say in favour of the ghost theory?"
"The impression I got was that he gave us the benefit of the doubt, but privately considered us a fanciful pair who'd got the wind up. He'll send a man over to lurk about the place for a couple of days, and that'll be the end of it."
"Give him a trial," Peter said. "I must say he didn't seem to be overburdened with ideas, but he may have kept them to himself."
They reached the Priory to find the others just getting up from lunch. "Oh, Charles!" Celia exclaimed, "the tennis-net has arrived, and Bowers and Coggin have been putting up the stop-netting all the morning. And if you'll come and do the measuring I'll mark the court out, and we can play after tea."