This was an odd game. He supposed it to be some kind of test of his accuracy. He said,
“You were sitting at your table writing, and I came up to it and said, ‘It’s happened again, sir’.”
“And what did you mean by that?”
“Do you want me to go back over what had happened before?”
“Certainly.”
“About a month ago I found an odd piece of paper in one of my pockets. It looked as if it had been there some time, but I don’t see how it could have been. It was crumpled and rubbed. It had been written on in pencil, but the writing was very faint, and neither the words nor the lettering were English.”
The Important Person with the extraordinarily unimportant air now spoke for the first time.
“What did you take them to be?”
“I thought they might be Russian, or one of the other Eastern European languages.”
“What made you think so?”
“The letters were different.”
“Do you know any Russian?”
“No, sir.”
“What languages do you know?”
“French-a little German-the usual amount of school Latin-”
“You couldn’t read the paper?”
“No, sir.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I thought I had better show it to Mr. Burlington.”
“What made you think that?”
“I thought it might be Russian. I didn’t like it being in my pocket. I thought he had better see it.”
With the slightest of gestures he was handed back. Mr. Burlington told him to go on.
“When it happened again, I liked it a whole lot less. I came down to breakfast this morning, and my aunt came in with another of those crumpled papers in her hand. She had been mending my jacket pocket the evening before. She said the paper must have worked down through the hole. She said it was caught between the lining and the stuff. She thought I might want it.”
The quiet voice took up its questioning again.
“Had she read it?”
“She wouldn’t read anything she thought was private.”
“She might not have thought it was private. Did she read it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
Some colour came up into Nicholas’s face.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want her to think it was important.”
“That might be quite a good reason if it wasn’t a personal one. Was it?”
The last few words were not loud, but they gave him the feeling that he had been flicked in the face. Quite unexpectedly. He said, “No, sir.” He hoped he hadn’t waited too long before saying it.
“Perhaps you will expand that a little.”
“I didn’t know what was on the paper. I remembered about the other one. I thought it was another of the same kind. Mr. Burlington wouldn’t want it to be talked about.”
“You didn’t read it immediately?”
“Not until I was alone. I just pushed it into my pocket and hoped my aunt would think it was of no importance.”
“You had already made up your mind it was important?”
“I thought Mr. Burlington ought to see it.”
“When did you make up your mind to show it to him?”
“As soon as I read it.”
Without any change the quiet voice said,
“I am going to read it now.”
The paper came out of the pocket-book. The glasses focussed themselves upon it. The voice read:
“-you must see this for yourself. If you cannot get us any better material you are useless, and when anything is of no more use, it is better to scrap it.”
“When you read these words, what was your reaction?”
“I thought someone was trying to frame me.”
“And you decided to go to Mr. Burlington. A very proper course, but one you might quite easily have taken if you had wished to safeguard yourself against some outside employer who had become dissatisfied, and who was prepared to scrap you.”
Nicholas pushed back his chair and came to his feet with a jerk.
“Sir-I protest!”
The eyes behind the pale glasses rested upon him steadily.
“Yes. But then you would-wouldn’t you? And all the more if it was true.”
Nicholas Cunningham took hold of himself. Easy enough to go off the deep end. And satisfying while it lasted. But there were always the bits to be picked up afterwards, and he didn’t fancy the job. He looked across the table and said,
“I can’t prove anything. I can only tell you what’s happened. I took both those papers to Mr. Burlington as soon as I found them. I think someone is trying to frame me. If I knew who it was I shouldn’t be here. I should be dealing with him.”
Burlington looked at the other man, and back at Nicholas. He said,
“Sit down, Cunningham.”
CHAPTER 29
It was getting on for ten o’clock that night when Craig Lester came out of the Holly Tree and strolled across the road. As he came to the White Cottage he could see that the lights were on in both front rooms. With only the two ladies in the house, it occurred to him to wonder why two sitting-rooms should be in use. But before he could reflect that he hadn’t lost much time in acquiring the true Village spirit the front door opened and Frank Abbott came out. During the moment in which he stood outlined against the glow from the dining-room door Craig made up his mind. He was aware of the figure of Miss Maud Silver in the background, and as Frank turned to bid her good-night, he stepped between the over-arching yews and walked quickly up the flagged path. Miss Silver, drawing back in order to shut the door, checked, looking into the darkness. Frank Abbott turned at the sound of his footsteps and almost bumped into him. Then, as recognition followed, he said,
“Hullo, it’s you! Which of us do you want? I was just off.”
“I wonder if I could have a few words with Miss Silver? If it isn’t too late.”
“Well, if you don’t want me I’ll be going.”
He went down the path. Craig said in an apologetic voice,
“Is it too late, Miss Silver?”
The light was behind her, but he thought she smiled.
“By no means, Mr. Lester. Pray come in.”
She took him into the dinning-room and indicated the chair which Frank Abbott had occupied. When they were seated and she had resumed her knitting, he received an encouraging look.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Lester?”
“A very great favour, if you will.”
“Will you tell me what it is?”
“Well, before I do that, perhaps you ought to know that I have a pretty good idea of why you are here.”
She said with a shade of rebuke,
“I am paying a visit to my old school friend, Mrs. Merridew.”
“And Frank Abbott is paying a visit to one of his innumerable cousins! I suppose he has told you that we have known each other on and off for quite a time?”
“Yes, Mr. Lester.”
“Well, what I’m trying to get across is that I know a good deal about your particular activities. Frank gave me a hint not to do any broadcasting-I suppose he told you that too.”
She smiled.
“These things make so much talk in a village.”
He nodded.
“As far as I am concerned, you are Mrs. Merridew’s friend and nothing more.”
Her needles clicked above the bright wool.
“It matters less than it would have done at first. Pray, what is it that you wish me to do for you?”
His face lit up with a smile that transformed it.
“You wouldn’t feel inclined to come to my wedding, would you? Because that’s what I came here to ask. And before you say no, will you be very kind indeed and let me tell you a little more about it all?”
“Certainly, Mr. Lester.”
He said in a quick boyish way which took ten years from his age,
“You are kind! And that is what Rosamond wants. She has never had it, and just now she needs it badly.”
Miss Silver looked at him in a most sympathetic manner.