“I would not refuse if it might convert him.”
“I can do nothing until this horrible affair is over. It will take a month or two.”
“Well, I will keep in touch with you till then. When all is well again we shall make our plans and see if we can bring these facts before him as they have been brought before me. Meanwhile, let me say how much I sympathise. We will form a committee of your friends and all that can will surely be done.”
CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH THE NOTORIOUS CRIMINAL GETS WHAT THE BRITISH LAW CONSIDERS TO BE HIS DESERTS
BEFORE we pursue further the psychic adventures of our hero and heroine, it would be well to see how the British law dealt with that wicked man, Mr. Tom Linden.
The two policewomen returned in triumph to Bardsley Square Station where Inspector Murphy, who had sent them, was waiting for their report. Murphy was a jolly-looking, red-faced, black-moustached man who had a cheerful, fatherly way with women which was by no means justified by his age or virility. He sat behind his official table, his papers strewn in front of him.
“Well, girls,” he said as the two women entered, “what luck?”
“I think it’s a go, Mr. Murphy,” said the elder policewoman. “We have the evidence you want.”
The Inspector took up a written list of questions from his desk.