“Yes, indeed he is. And it may be most useful to us, as you can understand. But about this astonishing story; it appears to me to play directly into our hands. The police and public and every one else are looking for a gang; they imagine us, indeed, to be members of the gang. We are, however, not members of any gang. Surely this is in our favour?” “You mean, we shan’t be so easy to trace?” “Precisely!” Mr. Priestley shone with pleasure both in Laura’s perspicacity and their combined untraceability. They went on to discuss the affair with zest. Mr. Priestley was at first a little confused between the identity of Guy Nesbitt. Esq., and that of the dead man, till Laura pointed out that the latter was merely a paying guest for the summer in the former’s house; perfectly reasonable. Why had he been dressed up in that extraordinary way? Obviously to take part in some formal ceremony connected with the gang. Was the scoundrel a foreigner himself, like his associates? Laura believed he was, though he spoke excellent English; he had what you might call a foreign look about him. Mr. Priestley agreed that he had. Was it Laura who had sent the message which drew the Nesbitts away from the house? No, that was the extraordinary thing, she hadn’t; she had thought they were going away for the week-end, as their maids had been given leave of absence. Evidently the message must have been sent by some member of the gang, probably the dead one, in order to leave the house clear for their own activities. In short, it was, as they both agreed, a Very Extraordinary Business. Mr. Priestley then announced that it was time for them to be leaving the inn and getting rid of the car, and Laura meekly went upstairs to put on her hat. Mr. Priestley very unwillingly sought out the landlady and obtained both his bill, which he wanted, and a great quantity of useful advice to young husbands, which he didn’t. They got into the incriminating two-seater and drove off, the landlady continuing to press them to return each year on this important anniversary in their lives and she’d turn the place upside-down to give them a welcome. Mr. Priestley, smiling and nodding uneasily, did not point out that he much preferred the houses where he was made welcome to be right way up; the result might be less striking, but it was much more convenient. They drove towards Manstead. Mr. Priestley was of the opinion that the car should be abandoned by the side of the road. Laura was determined to do nothing of the sort and said so, emphasising her decision by the argument that this would inevitably put the police on their trail, whereas the car might lie in a garage for months without being found. Mr. Priestley was impressed by this reasoning and acquiesced.