“I’m dining at the Club. And I may have a rubber or two afterwards.”
“Good. I sha’n’t be in, in the morning. I may run down to Berkshire this evening, and in any case I’ll go straight on to Day, Forshaw and Palmers’ first thing to-morrow. I’m really very anxious to see the actual objects of this extraordinary commission of ours!”
But just as Peter was destined never to buy them, so Linnell was fated not to see them on the morrow.
For when he arrived at Day, Forshaw and Palmers’ next morning he found a condition of extreme excitement and agitation. Detective-Inspector Goodall was in charge of the case—a case that had cost Day, Forshaw and Palmers Schedule Nos. 37, 38 and 39 in their sale catalogue, and their night-watchman his life. Linnell’s hand shook when he heard what had happened. The conviction came to him that he was connected with the affair. Acting upon a sudden impulse, he went in.
CHAPTER III.
The Hanover Galleries Murder
Just inside the room he was stopped. Two six-feet members of the Metropolitan Police barred his further entrance.
“Sorry, sir,” said one of them, “but our orders are to admit nobody.”
Linnell paused—then under the influence of a sudden idea—he produced his card.
“Give that to the Inspector who has the case in hand, will you?” he said; “it’s just possible I may be able to help him.” He looked straight at the officer.
“Very well, sir,” rejoined the latter. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” He spoke to his colleague. “You stay here—I’ll go and have a word with the Chief about this gentleman.”