Red House. The car was
at the door. He got in with Bill, the landlord put his bag on the front
seat next to the chauffeur, and they drove back.
CHAPTER VIII. "Do You Follow Me, Watson?"
Anthony's bedroom looked over the park at the back of the house. The
blinds were not yet drawn while he was changing his clothes for dinner,
and at various stages of undress he would pause and gaze out of the
window, sometimes smiling to himself, sometimes frowning, as he turned
over in his mind all the strange things that he had seen that day. He
was sitting on his bed, in shirt and trousers, absently smoothing down
his thick black hair with his brushes, when Bill shouted an "Hallo!"
through the door, and came in.
"I say, buck up, old boy, I'm hungry," he said.
Antony stopped smoothing himself and looked up at him thoughtfully.
"Where's Mark?" he said.
"Mark? You mean Cayley."
Antony corrected himself with a little laugh. "Yes, I mean Cayley. Is
he down? I say, I shan't be a moment, Bill." He got up from the bed and
went on briskly with his dressing. "Oh, by the way," said Bill, taking
his place on the bed, "your idea about the keys is a wash-out."
"Why, how do you mean?"
"I went down just now and had a look at them. We were asses not to have
thought of it when we came in. The library key is outside, but all the
others are inside."
"Yes, I know."
"You devil, I suppose you did think of it, then?"
"I did, Bill," said Antony apologetically.
"Bother! I hoped you'd forgotten. Well, that knocks your theory on the
head, doesn't it?"
"I never had a theory. I only said that if they were outside, it would
probably mean that the office key was outside, and that in that case
Cayley's theory was knocked on the head."
"Well, now, it isn't, and we don't know anything. Some were outside and
some inside, and there you are. It makes it much less exciting. When you
were talking about it on the lawn, I really got quite keen on the idea
of the key being outside and Mark taking it in with him."
"It's going to be exciting enough," said Antony mildly, as he
transferred his pipe and tobacco into the pocket of his black coat.
"Well, let's come down; I'm ready now."
Cayley was waiting for them in the hall. He made some polite inquiry
as to the guest's comfort, and the three of them fell into a casual
conversation about houses in general and The Red House in particular.
"You were quite right about the keys," said Bi
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