and show Antony's head
in the gap. A nice surprise for Cayley!

"Come with us?" he said casually, as he struck a match. He pulled
vigorously at the flame as he waited for the answer, hoping to hide his
anxiety, for if Cayley assented, he was done.

"I've got to go into Stanton."

Bill blew out a great cloud of smoke with an expiration which covered
also a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"Oh, a pity. You're driving, I suppose?"

"Yes. The car will be here directly. There's a letter I must write
first." He sat down at a writing table, and took out a sheet of
notepaper.

He was facing the secret door; if it opened he would see it. At any
moment now it might open.

Bill dropped into a chair and thought. Antony must be warned. Obviously.
But how? How did one signal to anybody? By code. Morse code. Did Antony
know it? Did Bill know it himself, if it came to that? He had picked up
a bit in the Army not enough to send a message, of course. But a
message was impossible, anyhow; Cayley would hear him tapping it out. It
wouldn't do to send more than a single letter. What letters did he know?
And what letter would convey anything to Antony?.... He pulled at
his pipe, his eyes wandering from Cayley at his desk to the Reverend
Theodore Ussher in his shelf. What letter?

C for Cayley. Would Antony understand? Probably not, but it was
just worth trying. What was C? Long, short, long, short.
Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Was that right? C yes, that was C. He was sure of
that. C. Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy.

Hands in pockets, he got up and wandered across the room, humming
vaguely to himself, the picture of a man waiting for another man (as it
might be his friend Gillingham) to come in and take him away for a walk
or something. He wandered across to the books at the back of Cayley, and
began to tap absent-mindedly on the shelves, as he looked at the titles.
Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy. Not that it was much like that at first; he
couldn't get the rhythm of it.... Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy. That was
better. He was back at Samuel Taylor Coleridge now. Antony would begin
to hear him soon. Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy; just the aimless tapping of a
man who is wondering what book he will take out with him to read on
the lawn. Would Antony hear? One always heard the man in the next flat
knocking out his pipe. Would Antony understand? Umpt-y-iddy-umpt-y-iddy.
C. for Cayley, Antony. Cayley's here. For God's sake, wait.

"Good Lord! Sermons!" said Bill, with a lou