He turned on his heel and left the room. The two policemen followed him.
“Keep them under observation,” Dory ordered shortly, “but I am afraid this fellow Cawdor has sold me.”
He found a hansom outside, and sprang into it.
“Number 27, Southampton Row,” he ordered.
Rounceby and his partner were alone in the little smoking room. The former was almost inarticulate. The night porter brought them brandy, and both men drank.
“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this, Marnstam,” Mr. Rounceby muttered.
Mr. Marnstam was thinking.
“Do you remember that sound through the darkness,” he said—“the beating of an engine way back on the road?”
“What of it?” Rounceby demanded.
“It was a motor bicycle,” Marnstam said quietly. “I thought so at the time.”