Anthony thrust his hands into his pockets with a gesture of impatience. “Of course I can, Inspector. Surely you don’t think I make statements of this kind irresponsibly? ’Pon my soul, I feel rather like picking up your challenge and being much more explicit than I had intended to be.” He paced to the bookcase and then came back again. “That bicycle was almost certainly ridden into Assynton after the murder had been committed. For the reason, in my opinion, that immediate communication had to be established between this end of the tangle and the other—or if you prefer it—between Assynton Lodge and the _people that murdered Mason at the Hanover Galleries the same night_.” He paused, and Peter Daventry noticed that Inspector Goodall was listening keenly and critically—punctuating Anthony’s remarks with sharp, quick movements of the head. “I deduce an urgent telephone message,” continued Anthony, “something had happened here that made instantaneous action _imperative_—the ’phone was the only way. Obviously the ’phone in the house itself must not be used—the nearest is in Assynton village—the nearest that would also be safest. If you like, I will embroider my theory somewhat.” He smiled as he sensed the improvement in his “atmosphere.” He was beginning to “get over!” “I deduce also, Inspector, that this urgent telephone message was very probably to an hotel. I think that we are dealing with a dangerous set of criminals who mean to stick at nothing to gain their ends and who in all likelihood had prepared their plans very thoroughly to meet all emergencies. If quick telephone communication formed a link in their connection system those of them who are conducting the operations from the other end were probably stopping at a quiet hotel. They don’t appeal to me as likely to be permanent residents in the West End of London, so I incline to the probability of an hotel.” He turned to Inspector Goodall decisively. “Let me make a suggestion, Inspector! Try to trace a telephone message from Assynton about 11:20 on the night before last.” Goodall broke in with an exclamation of incredulity. But Bathurst held up his hand and went straight on. “A message to an hotel—I’ll give you a list that I fancy will contain the identical one.” Goodall raised his hands. “You travel a darned sight too fast, Mr. Bathurst. Hold hard a minute—there’s a pretty wide gulf of difference between outlining your suggestions and putting them into solid practice. For instance, you assert quite confidently that the time was 11:20. How——” “Tut-tut, man,” broke in Anthony—“that shouldn’t surprise you. Your mysterious woman arrived at the Hanover Galleries at twelve o’clock or thereabouts—I’ve endeavored to fill in the time with what happened here between ten o’clock and then—I put the murder at eleven o’clock approximately, and I’ve allowed twenty minutes for the cycle ride.”