Chapter 8
"COME IN," said the girl softly. She cast a frightened glance over her shoulder toward the telephone, giving its insistent call.
Waring hesitated on the threshold. Somehow that backward glance of hers galvanised all his dormant suspicion.
Henderson had been too cool. In the excitement of the moment of his speaking with Conybear's secretary, he had been glad that Henderson was self-possessed; in the enormity of the crime, it had not seemed too absurd that preparations against the crime's commission should have been of apparent magnitude; in his hurry to get to Camp Avenue, he had been too occupied with his errand to reason calmly about the plausibility of Henderson's words.
But one thing stuck out: Henderson had stated that there was no telephone at 88 Camp Avenue, that there
