“Any address?”
“No. A half-sheet of rather dirty paper.”
“Where is it now?”
“I don’t know. In Mark’s pocket, I expect.”
“Ah!” He pulled at his beard. “Well, we’ll come to that. Can you remember what it said?”
“As far as I remember, something like this: ‘Mark, your loving brother is coming to see you to-morrow, all the way from Australia. I give you warning so that you will be able to conceal your surprise, but not I hope, your pleasure. Expect him at three, or thereabouts.’”
“Ah!” The inspector copied it down carefully. “Did you notice the postmark?”
“London.”
“And what was Mark’s attitude?”
“Annoyance, disgust—” Cayley hesitated.