Antony tapped the wall at the back.
"This is where the passage ought to begin. It doesn't sound very
hollow, does it?"
"It needn't begin here at all, need it?" said Bill, walking round
with bent head, and tapping the other walls. He was just too
tall to stand upright in the shed.
"There's only one reason why it should, and that is that it would
save us the trouble of looking anywhere else for it. Surely Mark
didn't let you play croquet on his bowling-green?" He pointed to
the croquet things.
"He didn't encourage it at one time, but this year he got rather
keen about it. There's really nowhere else to play. Personally
I hate the game. He wasn't very keen on bowls, you know, but he
liked calling it the bowling-green, and surprising his visitors
with it."
Antony laughed.
"I love you on Mark," he said. "You're priceless."
He began to feel in his pockets for his pipe and tobacco, and
then suddenly stopped and stiffened to attention. For a moment
he stood listening, with his head on one side, holding up a
finger to bid Bill listen too.
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