Guesswork
The inquest was at three o’clock; thereafter Antony could have no claim on the hospitality of the Red House. By ten o’clock his bag was packed, and waiting to be taken to The George. To Bill, coming upstairs after a more prolonged breakfast, this early morning bustle was a little surprising.
“What’s the hurry?” he asked.
“None. But we don’t want to come back here after the inquest. Get your packing over now and then we can have the morning to ourselves.”
“Righto.” He turned to go to his room, and then came back again. “I say, are we going to tell Cayley that we’re staying at The George?”
“You’re not staying at The George, Bill. Not officially. You’re going back to London.”
“Oh!”