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It was surmised that Mortimer was his informant, but an exhaustive search of the post office files of telegrams despatched showed no trace of any other telegram from Mortimer to Bellward save the one in the possession of the authorities. As for Mortimer, he remained a complete enigma. That, summarised, was the gist of the story of Bellward's arrest.
You will keep careful note of any communication that may be made to you, whether verbal or in writing, of whatever nature it is. When you have anything to be forwarded, ring up 700 Slanning on the telephone and give Bellward's name. You will hand your report to the first person calling at the house thereafter asking for the letter for Mr. Elias.
Bellward's comfortable bed, noted with regret that the clock on the mantel-shelf marked a quarter to twelve. But then he thought of the tete-a-tete luncheon that awaited him at one o'clock and his face cleared. He didn't mind getting up so much after all. He fell again to the perusal of the documents which he had found, as indicated in the note from headquarters, in the desk by the bed.
For he found himself looking into Mr. Bellward's library. He stepped into the room to see how the cupboard looked from the other side. He found that a whole section of bookshelves had swung back with the cupboard, in other words that the cupboard in the toolshed and the section of bookshelves were apparently all of one piece.
He felt that the inaction was stifling him. He determined to go for a walk round the garden. That, at least, was in the spirit of his orders. Remembering that he was supposed to be suffering from a chill he donned a heavy Ulster of Bellward's which was hanging in the hall and wound a muffler round his neck. The rain had stopped, but the whole atmosphere reeked of moisture.
She was wearing a big black musquash coat, and over her feet she had flung a tweed overcoat, apparently one of Mr. Bellward's from the hatstand in the hall. Her hat, a very dainty little affair of plain black velvet, was skewered with a couple of jewelled hatpins to the upholstery of the settee. Desmond watched her for a moment.
He must have come to the Mill House to get his motorcycle; for he surely would have known that the villa would be the first place to which the police would follow him up. Desmond saw a little ray of hope. If it was a very big if Bellward's flight were discovered promptly, the police might be expected to reach the Mill House very soon behind him.
He had instinctively put up his arm to defend his face and the thickly padded sleeve of Bellward's jacket had broken the force of the blow. Desmond had avoided a fractured skull at the price of an appalling bruise on the right forearm and a nasty laceration of the scalp. Francis had resolutely declined to enlighten him as to the events of the night until both had breakfasted.
However, as Desmond was dropped heavily on to the grass on the other side of the wall, Bellward's grip relaxed just for a second and in that instant Desmond made one desperate bid for liberty.
He heard the green baize door on the floor below swing back as Strangwise went out to the back stairs and Bellward's heavy step ascended the main staircase. There was something so horribly sinister in that firm, creaking tread as it mounted towards him that for the moment he lost his head. He looked round wildly for a place of concealment; but the corridor was bare.
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