"I'm going to give you a little
trip down to the, country this afternoon, Miss Mackwayte... to,
Essex... the Mill House, Wentfield... you know whom it is you are
to see, eh? I'm getting a little restless as we've had no reports
since he arrived there. I had hoped, by this, to have been able
to put him on the track of Nur-el-Din, but, for the moment, it
looks as if we had lost the scent. But you can tell our friend
all we know about the lady's antecedents--what we had from my
French colleague the other day, you know? Let him have all the
particulars about this Barling case--you know about that, don't
you? Good, and, see here, try and find out from our mutual friend
what he intends doing. I don't want to rush him... don't let him
think that... but I should rather like to discover whether he has
formed any plan. And now you get along. There's a good train
about three which gets you down to Wentfield in just under the
hour. Take care of yourself! See you in the morning!"
Pressing a bell with one hand and lifting up a telephone receiver
with the other, the Chief immersed himself again in his work. He
appeared to have forgotten Miss Mackwayte's very existence.
At a quarter to five that evening, Barbara unlatched the front
gate of the Mill House and walked up the drive.
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