Stewart hesitated for just the fraction of a second before his answer came. “Certainly not, Mr. Bathurst—when Ferguson told me the provisions of the will this morning nobody was more surprised than I. My father was angry at my not falling in with this supreme desire of his—furiously angry I may say! He so far forgot himself to say things about Miss Armitage which were as absurd as they were untrue, to anybody that knew her—he even threatened me in a way—a vague sort of way. But——” “How do you mean?” interrupted Anthony abruptly. “How did he threaten you?” Stewart gnawed at his lower lip. “As I said—vaguely! That it would be the worse for me if I persisted in acting in opposition to his wishes—just that—nothing more. Why do you ask?” “The point occurred to me—that’s all—go on!” “Well—that’s all,” concluded Stewart. “The word ‘will’ was never mentioned—I left my father hoping that he would cool down and see things eventually from my point of view—and Marjorie’s.” “When Miss Lennox came to tell you your father wanted you, did she seem upset or distressed at all?” Stewart reflected for a second or two. “No,” he declared. “But I’ll tell you what I did notice about her—her cheeks were very flushed—as though she were laboring under great excitement—I certainly did notice that.” Anthony rose and walked across to one of the tables. He picked up a dainty piece of glass—almost gossamer-like in its texture and quality. “You understand, don’t you? I want that announcement about closing the house up to be made _to-night_. Inform all the servants—arrange with Llewellyn and Miss Lennox on the lines that I suggested—see Butterworth about taking charge during the time you will be away—’phone Colonel Leach-Fletcher—in short make all the necessary arrangements as soon as possible. If it could be managed—don’t come back to the house after the funeral. What a lovely piece of glass this is!” He rang his finger nail against its edge. “Very well,” said Stewart. “I will do exactly as you wish.” “I’m obliged,” returned Anthony. He walked to the door—then stopped and looked back at Stewart. “By the way,” he exclaimed, “would you kindly arrange for me to have a word with young O’Connor before he goes for his unexpected month’s holiday?” CHAPTER XXIII When the Cat’s Away “Goodall,” murmured Anthony, “I shall never be able to forget entirely the look on your face this afternoon when I asked you to fall in with my arrangements. It was an education on its own—really in some ways I regard it as sufficient reward in itself for the trouble I have taken over the matter. Have another slice of this cold lamb. You too, Daventry!” The two people addressed pushed their plates towards him, the Inspector grinning somewhat feebly. “It might even have been a better education for you had you felt disposed to tell me a bit more—even now you haven’t put me wise to all that’s going on—thanks, Mr. Bathurst.”