CHAPTER VI.
THE GAME OF BLUFF.
An inscrutable note reached Harry by the last post that night. It was from Gordon Lowndes, and it ran:—
"Leadenhall Street, E.C.
"May 20.
"Dear Ringrose,—If you are still of the same mind about a matter which we need not name, let me hear from you by return, and I'll 'inspan' the best detective in the world. He is at present cooling his heels at Scotland Yard, but may be on the job again any day, so why not on ours?
"Perhaps you will kindly drop me a line in any case, as I await your instructions.
"Yours faithfully,
"Gordon Lowndes."
"What is it, my boy?"
"A line from Lowndes."