CHAPTER XXIII
AT THE DOCTOR'S FLAT
DR. VAN HEERDEN did not hurry his departure from his Staines house. He spent the morning following Oliva's marriage in town, transacting certain important business and making no attempt to conceal his comings and goings, though he knew that he was shadowed. Yet he was well aware that every hour that passed brought danger nearer. He judged (and rightly) that his peril was not to be found in the consequences to his detention of Oliva Cresswell.
"I may have a week's grace," he said to Milsom, "and in the space of a week I can do all that I want."
He spent the evening superintending the dismantling of apparatus in the shed, and it was past ten o'clock on Tuesday before he finished.
It was not until he was seated by Milsom's side in the big limousine and the car was running smoothly through Kingston that he made any further reference to the previous afternoon.
"Is Beale content?" he asked.
"Eh?"
Milsom, dozing in the corner of the car, awoke with a start.
"Is Beale content with his prize—and his predicament?" asked van Heerden.
"Well, I guess he should be. That little job brings him a million. He shouldn't worry about anything further."
But van Heerden shook his head.
"I don't think you have things quite right,, Milsom," he said. "Beale is a better man than I thought, and knows my mind a little too well. He was astounded when Homo claimed to be a priest—I never saw a man more stunned in my life. He intended the marriage as a bluff to keep me away from the girl. He analysed the situation exactly, for he knew I was after her money, and that she
