“Um!” John Steadman drew in his lips. “Handed in at Edgware Road Post-Office at 12.30, March 4th,” he said. “Well!”
He turned to the scraps of paper. The inspector leaned forward and pieced them together. The whole made part of a letter.
“Will see you as soon as possible. In the meantime be very careful. A chance word of yours may do untold harm. Say as little as possible—all will be explained later. Further instructions will reach you soon.” Then came a piece that was torn away, and it ended in the corner—“5 o'clock, Physical Energy.”
John Steadman's face was very stern as he looked up.
“It is obvious the girl knows—something. How did you get these scraps of paper, inspector?”
“One of our most trustworthy women agents has been doing casual work in Hobart Residence,” said Inspector Furnival with a quiet smile. “These were found in Miss Cecily Hoyle's room there, in the waste-paper-basket.”
“Have you taken any steps in the matter?”
“Not yet! Of course we have had ‘Physical Energy’—the statue in Kensington Gardens, you know—watched since yesterday morning, but so far there has been no sign of Miss Cecily Hoyle, or of anyone who could be identified as the writer of that letter.”
“Have you any idea who that is likely to be?”
“Well, ideas are not much use, are they, sir? It is not young Mr. Collyer's writing, so much is certain, I think.”