"A capital man. Pick him up in five minutes. Sure to be at home. Just married, and in want of a job. Name, Bob Garlick."
"He's the man for us." I hailed a growler, and Wheeler told the driver where to go. "I have screwed Maxwell's address out of Madame Lourbet," I said, as we rattled along. "You would have laughed if you had heard us argue—I fairly frightened her. I shouldn't be surprised if he and Louis, and perhaps Louis' mother, are preparing for flight, and I hope to catch the lot to-night. There's nothing in the last two that would warrant us in arresting them, but it is on the cards that I shall arrest Maxwell for the murder of Morgan, whose real name is Philip Barlow."
"How do you know he murdered him? Best be sure of your ground, Godfrey."
"I will make sure. The plan I have in my head will not fail. I never in my life felt more confident, but everything, of course, depends upon our coming face to face with the scoundrelly crew. We are going straight to their house, you, I, Bob Garlick, and Jack, and then we shall see what we shall see."
What my plan was will presently be made clear. Sufficient now to say that we found our new recruit at home, and that he took it as a compliment to be invited to work with me. Jack also joined us. He was overjoyed to hear that it was not a ghost he had seen in Finchley Road, but Louis himself in the flesh.
"You've lifted a ton weight off me, guv'nor," he said. "That clears me, don't it?"
"You will come out of it with flying colors, my lad," I answered, clapping him on the shoulder.
"But 'ow did it happen?" he asked, in wonder.
"We shall know soon," I said. "Only keep cool."
"Poor Morgan!" he sighed, with genuine feeling. "'E was worth a 'undered of sech stuck-up cads as Louis."