CHAPTER XXVIIIThe door closed upon Marsham. Frank Abbott let a full minute go by. Then rising from his chair, he strolled across and opened it again. The long passage was empty. He returned to the fire, noted that it required attention, and made an expert disposition of two small logs and a large one. When he had finished and was dusting his hands with a beautiful handkerchief in harmony with his tie and socks, he observed in a casual tone,
‘Just as well to be sure that he doesn’t make a habit of leaning against doors.’
Miss Silver looked at him across her pink knitting.
‘You think he heard more than he is willing to admit?’
‘Could be. No one ever tells everything they know—not in a murder case. I learnt that from you when I was in rompers. I thought he was holding something back. Didn
