III

It was only a step from Mrs. Price Ridley’s house to the vicarage.

Mrs. Price Ridley was fortunate enough to find the vicar in his study.

The vicar, a gentle, middle-aged man, was always the last to hear any-thing.

“Such a terrible thing,” said Mrs. Price Ridley, panting a little, becauseshe had come rather fast. “I felt I must have your advice, your counselabout it, dear vicar.”

Mr. Clement looked mildly alarmed. He said:

“Has anything happened?”

“Has anything happened?” Mrs. Price Ridley repeated the question dra-matically. “The most terrible scandal! None of us had any idea of it. Anabandoned woman, completely unclothed, strangled on Colonel Bantry’shearthrug.”

The vicar stared. He said:

“You—you are feeling quite well?”

“No wonder you can’t believe it! I couldn’t at first. The hypocrisy of theman! All these years!”

“Please tell me exactly what all this is about.”

Mrs. Price Ridley plunged into a full-swing narrative. When she had fin-ished Mr. Clement said mildly:

“But there is nothing, is there, to point to Colonel Bantry’s being in-volved in this?”

“Oh, dear vicar, you are so unworldly! But I must tell you a little story.

Last Thursday—or was it the Thursday before? well, it doesn’t matter—Iwas going up to London by the cheap day train. Colonel Bantry was in thesame carriage. He looked, I thought, very abstracted. And nearly thewhole way he buried himself behind The Times. As though, you know, hedidn’t want to talk.”

The vicar nodded with complete comprehension and possible sympathy.

“At Paddington I said good-bye. He had offered to get me a taxi, but Iwas taking the bus down to Oxford Street—but he got into one, and I dis-tinctly heard him tell the driver to go to—where do you think?”

Mr. Clement looked inquiring.

“An address in St. John’s Wood!”

Mrs. Price Ridley paused triumphantly.

The vicar remained completely unenlightened.

“That, I consider, proves it,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.