"How did you know?" he asked, hoarsely.
"From the story you sent us," Rice answered. "At first you wrote on the title-page Douglas Guest as the author. Then apparently you changed your mind, crossed it out, and substituted Douglas Jesson, which we took to be a nom-de-plume, especially as you gave us for your address initials to a post-office."
"Did any one else see it?"
"Not unless Drexley did. He has never spoken to me about it."
Douglas drank more wine. He was unused to it, and the colour mounted to his pale cheeks.
"You have asked me a question," he said, "and it is answered. What else?"
"Nothing," Rice said slowly. "It is no concern of mine.
"You are not anxious, then," Douglas said, "to earn a hundred pounds reward?"
"I think if I were you," Rice said, "I would get the Courier to send you abroad. They would do it in a minute."
"Abroad?" Douglas looked across the table questioningly. It was a new idea to him. "Yes. You could visit odd places and write impressions of them. Yours is just the style for that sort of thing—quick and nervous, you know, and lots of colour. People are rabid for anything of that sort just now. Take my tip. Suggest it to Rawlinson."