Wiggins pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to Carpentaria, who read:
“Come to me in my office at once. If I am not there, wait for me. The bearer will take your duties meanwhile.
“C. Carpentaria.”
“Oh!” said Carpentaria. “And who brought this?”
“A Soudanese, sir.”
“Which Soudanese?”
“I don’t know. They’re all alike to me.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that this note was forged?”
“No, sir. Why should it?”
“It didn’t occur to you,” Carpentaria continued, “that I was conducting my concert, and that therefore I couldn’t possibly be in my office?”