"You did this?"
"Yes. But he brought it back."
"When?"
"The afternoon"
"Before Sir Charles's death? Yes. Go on. What did he tell you to do with this serviette?"
"It—was in a box. He said I was not to open the box until I put the serviette on the table, and that it had to be put by Sir Charles's plate. It had to be put there just before the meal began."
"What else?"
"I had to burn the box."
"Well?"
"That night I couldn't see how it was to be done. Benson had laid the dinner table and Mrs. Howett was pottering about. Then, when I thought I had my chance, Sir Charles sat down in the dining room and began to read. He was still there and I had the box hidden in the hall stand, all ready, when—Sidney—rang up."
"Rang you up?"
"Yes. We had arranged it. He said he was my brother. I had to tell him I couldn't do it."
"Yes!"
"He said: 'You must.' I told him Sir Charles was in the dining room, and he said: 'I'll get him away. Directly he goes, don't fail to do what I told you'."
"And then?"
"Another 'phone call came—for Sir Charles. I
