"
"Murdered him?"
"Well, manslaughtered him, anyway. I may be wrong. Anyway, it's
not my business."
"But why do you think so? Because of the keys?"
"Oh, the keys are a wash-out. Still, it was a brilliant idea of
mine, Wasn't it? And it would have been rather a score for me if
they had all been outside."
He had finished his writing, and now passed the paper over to
Bill. In the clear moonlight the carefully printed letters could
easily be read:
"GO ON TALKING AS IF I WERE HERE. AFTER A MINUTE OR TWO, TURN
ROUND AS IF I WERE SITTING ON THE GRASS BEHIND YOU, BUT GO ON
TALKING."
"I know you don't agree with me," Antony went on as Bill read,
"but you'll see that I'm right."
Bill looked up and nodded eagerly. He had forgotten golf and
Betty and all the other things which had made up his world
lately. This was the real thing. This was life. "Well," he
began deliberately, "the whole point is that I know Mark. Now,
Mark--"
But Antony was off the seat and letting himself gently down into
the ditch. His intention was to crawl round it until the shed
came in sight.
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