Part 35 (2/2)

”I don't believe a word of it!” cried Mr. Flexen.

Mr. Manley rose with an air of great dignity and said: ”My good chap, I can excuse your temper. It was an ingenious theory, and it must be very annoying to have it upset. But I'm fed up with this Loudwater business.

I've got here”--he tapped the ma.n.u.script on the table--”a drama worth fifty of it. Out of working hours I don't mind talking that affair over with you; in them I won't.”

Mr. Flexen rose and said: ”You're undoubtedly the most accomplished scoundrel I've ever come across.”

”If you will have it so,” said Mr. Manley patiently. Then he smiled and added: ”Praise from an expert--”

They turned to see Mrs. Manley standing in the doorway, her lips parted, her eyes dilated in a growing consternation.

She stepped forward. Mr. Flexen slipped round her and fairly fled.

She looked at Mr. Manley with horror-stricken eyes and said: ”What--what did he mean, Herbert?”

”He meant what he said. But what it really means is that I won't let him hang that wretched James Hutchings,” said Mr. Manley with a n.o.ble air.

Three months later, on the first night of Mr. Manley's play, Colonel Grey came upon Mr. Flexen in the lounge of the Haymarket, between the second and third acts. Both of them praised the play warmly, and there came a pause.

Then Colonel Grey said: ”I suppose you've given up all hope of solving the problem of Loudwater's death.”

”Oh, I solved it three months ago. It was Manley,” said Mr. Flexen.

”By Jove!” said Colonel Grey softly.

”Not a doubt of it. I'll tell you all about it one of these days,”

said Mr. Flexen, for the bell rang to warn them that the third act was about to begin.

In the corridor Colonel Grey said: ”Queer that he should have dropped down dead in the street a week before this success.”

”Well, he was discharged from the Army for having a bad heart. But it is a bit queer,” said Mr. Flexen.

”The mills of G.o.d,” said Colonel Grey.

”Looks like it,” said Mr. Flexen.

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