Suppose Cayley was so unsuspicious that, as soon as they had gone upstairs, he had dived down into the passage and set about his business. Suppose, even now, he was at the pond, dropping into it that secret of his. Good heavens, what fools they had been! How could Antony have taken such a risk? Put yourself in Cayley’s place, he had said. But how was it possible? They weren’t Cayley. Cayley was at the pond now. They would never know what he had dropped into it.

Listen! ⁠ ⁠… Somebody at the door. He was asleep. Quite naturally now. Breathe a little more loudly, perhaps. He was asleep.⁠ ⁠… The door was opening. He could feel it opening behind him.⁠ ⁠… Good Lord, suppose Cayley really was a murderer! Why, even now he might be⁠—no, he mustn’t think of that. If he thought of that, he would have to turn round. He mustn’t turn round. He was asleep; just peacefully asleep. But why didn’t the door shut? Where was Cayley now? Just behind him? And in his hand⁠—no, he mustn’t think of that. He was asleep. But why didn’t the door shut?