“To the best of my belief,” I asserted, “everybody save you and Jack was in the drawing-room.”
“Right.”
Baddeley pushed across a letter.
“Have a good look at that, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Yes?” I queried.
“That’s a letter addressed to Mr. Prescott. I think you may know the handwriting?”
I took the letter. It seemed an ordinary enough letter, touching upon the fact that Prescott was shortly visiting Considine Manor, but the portion where the signature would have normally appeared, had been torn off.
“Sorry, Inspector,” I replied, “I don’t. I can’t help you.”
I handed it back to him. His glance searched my features for a brief space then——
“Try Mr. Bathurst; does he find the writing familiar?”