"Half an hour ago I gave Oliva a book," he said, "that book is no longer there."
"But in the name of Heaven how can a book save her?" demanded the exasperated Kitson.
Stanford Beale did not answer.
"Yes, yes, she's safe. I know she's safe," he said. "If Oliva is the girl I think she is then I see van Heerden's finish."
CHAPTER XXXI
A CORN CHANDLER'S BILL
The church bells were chiming eleven o'clock when a car drew up before a gloomy corner shop, bearing the dingy sign of the pawnbroker's calling, and Beale and McNorton alighted.
It was a main street and was almost deserted. Beale looked up at the windows. They were dark. He knocked at the side-entrance of the shop, and presently the two men were joined by a policeman.
"Nobody lives here, sir," explained the officer, when McNorton had made himself known. "Old Rosenblaum runs the business, and lives at Highgate."