“Aren’t you a bit imaginative, Mr. Linnell?” demanded Goodall. “How could anything you—still—let’s hear all about it.”
“I was going to,” remonstrated Linnell mildly. “We were commissioned to buy three articles that were advertised as having belonged to Mary, Queen of——”
“What?” blazed Goodall. “The devil you were. They’re the only three articles we can trace to have been stolen. Who commissioned you?”
Although Linnell was really surprised at this announcement—yet in one way he was not. His mind seemed prepared for it—some sixth and subtle sense had been pounding at his brain ever since his arrival at this place that Stewart’s instructions and the tragedy that confronted him were in some manner connected with each other. It was the shadowy belief in this that had prompted him to try to interview the Inspector.
“Mr. Laurence P. Stewart of Assynton, Berkshire,” he replied quietly.
“The millionaire?” exclaimed a tall man from the group.
“Yes,” said Linnell.
“You know this man Stewart, Mr. Day?” asked Goodall, turning to the speaker.
“Only by reputation,” rejoined Day. “It’s the American millionaire—you must have heard of him, Inspector! Forshaw here, met him once or twice over in the States—I never have.”
“That’s so,” intervened Forshaw with a positive movement of the head. “I met him in New York a year or two after the War.”