“What?”
“It’s put the game right in our hands. Stanworth was murdered by a man called Prince, whom he knew to be in the neighbourhood and—— But let’s go somewhere rather more secluded and study this document some more.”
The nearest outhouse offering a safe refuge, they withdrew hastily and scrutinised their find more closely. After ten minutes’ concentrated effort they found themselves in possession of the following:
“. . . that brute Prince . . . this neighbourhood . . . serious danger . . . fright of my life this morning on chancing to . . . be locked up . . .”
“I think that’s absolutely all that’s decipherable, without a magnifying glass, at any rate,” Roger said at length, folding up the precious paper and stowing it carefully away in his pocketbook. “But it’s plain enough, isn’t it? So forward!” He marched out of the shed and turned in the direction of the drive.
“Where to now?” asked the faithful Alec, hurrying after him.
“To find Master Prince,” Roger returned grimly.
“Ah! You think he’s still about here?”
“I think it’s quite probable. He’s been in communication with Jefferson this morning, hasn’t he? At any rate, we can soon find out.”
“What exactly have you deduced then?”