‘With pleasure,’ said Racksole.
At that moment a page entered with a telegram. Racksole opened it read:
‘Please come instantly. Nella. Hôtel Wellington, Ostend.’
He looked at his watch.
‘I can’t come,’ he said to the detective. I’m going to Ostend.’
‘To Ostend?’
‘Yes, now.’
‘But really, Mr Racksole,’ protested the detective. ‘My business is urgent.’
‘So’s mine,’ said Racksole.
In ten minutes he was on his way to Victoria Station.