Free Pursuit of a Parcel by Patricia Wentworth Page A

either. But it’s because they think he’s going to get well—Dr. Kyrle said so.”
    Emanuel went on looking worried. “So I thought if there was such a thing as a safe down here and you could put it away, it would relieve me of the responsibility, Miss Delia—that is, if you can’t tell me where Mr. Antony is.”
    Suddenly she had a lost look. She said in a forlorn voice, “I don’t know, Mr. Holt.”
    â€œYou see, Miss Delia, if it was lost—or I might say stolen—Mr. Merridew would be bound to hold me accountable, and I’m not at all happy in my mind—thieves in the night, and a man who was pretending that he was from the water company while I was out.”
    â€œWhat!”
    He nodded his head with a kind of mournful triumph.
    â€œYes, Miss Delia—and they hadn’t sent anyone, because Mrs. Holt telephoned. And when I was waiting at the bus stop coming along to catch my bus down here, a man pushed into me from behind and I very nearly lost my balance. There was quite a little crowd, and I couldn’t see who it was. I nearly fell, but I held on to the suit-case, and it’s my belief that if I hadn’t, it’s just as likely as not that I shouldn’t have seen it again. So if there was a safe in the house here—”
    Delia didn’t think much of the incident at the bus stop, but she felt sorry for Emanuel Holt, who was a nice little man and obviously worried to death about Uncle Philip and being responsible. She looked at the suit-case which contained the parcel. She couldn’t see the address with her eyes, but she saw it very plainly in her mind—Antony Rossiter Esq., By hand. The idea of taking charge of it appealed to her strongly. The “By hand” seemed to bring Antony within reach again. She didn’t think it necessary to answer Emanuel’s question about the safe. There was no safe at Fourways, but she had no intention of telling him so.
    She gave a sudden wide, enchanting smile and said,
    â€œI’d love to look after the parcel, Mr. Holt. I’m sure it will be quite safe here.”
    Five minutes later she went out of the room with the parcel in her hand. A man who was standing among the lilac-bushes where Antony Rossiter had stood in the dark a week ago watched her go.
    He had followed Emanuel Holt from his house to his point of departure on the country bus. He had then followed the bus on his motor-bicycle.
    When Emanuel alighted he continued to follow him, and presently found a place where he could leave his motor-bicycle amongst some bushes, after which he could follow unobtrusively on foot.
    It was a bit of luck for Emanuel that there had always been somebody else in sight—even in the drive there had been the baker’s cart. But it was a bit of luck for the man that the lilac-bushes were there to make a screen, and that he had been able to locate the room into which Emanuel had been shown. His first cautious peep around an ornamental holly had yielded a lively picture of the Wayshot ladies to his horrified eyes. His next attempt had shown him Mr. Holt, facing the window but fortunately not looking in that direction.
    With a deep breath of relief the man got well into the lilacs and waited.
    Presently the door moved and he drew back. When he dared look again, Delia was sitting with her back to the window. He could see no more of her than the top of a head of fair hair. Of her conversation with Mr. Holt he heard nothing at all upon Emanuel’s side. Fourways was a very well built house. The window frames fitted perfectly, and the glass was thick. Upon Delia’s side he heard her say “What!” in a startled tone and that was all he could have sworn to. Sometimes he caught the murmur of one voice or the other, but listen as he would, there were no more words. But when Delia got up to go he could see a little more of her. Not her face, because she never turned round towards