“In that case, I’d better tell you that I met Marryatt, five minutes ago or thereabouts, running violently in the direction of the station.” “Running?” “Yes. It was my conjecture that he intended to catch the 10.30, and had not very much time to do it in.” “Good Lord, this is awful! I say, have you seen Gordon?” “He is just outside. He wanted me to do a round with him, but I found myself unable to comply. The fact is, my wife returns to-day, and I have to go down to the house to prepare for her—just see that the servants are not intoxicated, and that kind of thing. If you want a round, Gordon is your man.” “Thanks, I think that’s just what I do want. Hullo, Gordon, you going out? Just let me get my clubs, and I’m with you.” It was not till they were walking together along the fairway from the first tee that Reeves opened his griefs. “I say, have you heard this about Davenant?” “Yes, most inconsiderate of him to confess just when you’d arranged to clap the darbies on another man. Lucky for you you hadn’t said anything to Marryatt about it.” “Well, the fact is, I had.” “You had?” “Yes, I’ve just been talking to him from the steward’s office, through that confounded metaphone thing. I told him the whole story, as we had put it together——” “I pass the _we_.” “And I told him he must own up. He had no chance of saying anything down the tube, of course, and now it seems he has bolted for London.” “Bolted! Why, of course, that was why he was making streaks for the station at about sixty miles an hour. Good Lord, Reeves, you _have_ done it? I believe you’ve convinced Marryatt, by sheer logic, that he’s a murderer, when he’s nothing of the kind.” “No, but I say, do you really think he’s bolted?” “Looks like it, doesn’t it? Very much like the old story of the man who telegraphed to the Bishop to say ‘All is discovered; fly at once.’ Poor old Marryatt must have a guilty conscience about something, mustn’t he? I wonder if he’s been embezzling the collections? I should think it would be worth about a fortnight in quod, embezzling the Paston Oatvile collections. My ball, I think.” “I wish you’d take this thing seriously.” “I’m doing my best; it was a beast of a lie.” “I don’t mean the game, you fool, I mean Marryatt clearing off like this. What happens if he really tries to disappear? How am I to get at him? And what’s it all about, anyhow?” “I haven’t the faintest idea what it’s all about. But if you ask me, I don’t believe Marryatt has bolted for good. He wasn’t taking his clubs with him.” “You think he’ll come back this evening?” “I should think almost certainly.” “But look here, what the deuce am I to say to him when he does?” “Oh, leave all that to me. I’ll calm his fevered brow. I told you yesterday there were one or two little things I wanted Marryatt to explain, and you wouldn’t let me. This time, I’m going to have it my own way.”