The inspector took up the receiver; the other men watched him breathlessly.
“Yes, yes, Inspector Furnival speaking,” they heard him say. “Yes, I will be with you as soon as it is possible. Detain her at all hazards until I come.”
He rang off and turned.
“What do you think that was?”
“Thompson caught at the docks,” Aubrey Todmarsh suggested.
Mr. Steadman said nothing, but a faint smile crossed his lips as he glanced at the inspector.
“The message is that a lady is at Scotland Yard asking to see the official who is in charge of the Bechcombe case,” Inspector Furnival said, glancing from one to the other of his auditors as if to note the effect of his words on them. “A lady, who refused to give her name, but who says that she saw the late Mr. Luke Bechcombe on the day of his death.”
His words had the force of a bombshell thrown between the others.
Aubrey Todmarsh did not speak, but his face turned visibly whiter. He moistened his lips with his tongue. Even the impassive Mr. Steadman started violently.
“The lady of the glove!” he exclaimed.