Sir George turned to the picture.
"Yes," said he, and then with a smile: "I wonder Mr. Bronte did not fall from his frame at some of your questions."
T. B. chuckled softly as he followed the uniformed doorkeeper along the ornate corridor.
In a cab being driven rapidly westward, Van Ingen solemnly produced his finds.
"A little rose and a handkerchief," he said.
T. B. took the last-named article in his hand. It was a delicate piece of flimsiness, all lace and fragrance. Also it was damp.
"Here's romance," said T. B., folding it carefully and putting it in his pocket. "Somebody has been crying, and I'll bet it wasn't our friend the banker."
CHAPTER XII
MURDER
"I've got two men on to Sir George," said T. B. to Van Ingen. They were at the Yard. "I've given them instructions not to leave him day or night. Now, the question is, how will the 'bears' discover the fatal day the barrage is to be handed over to the guileless Fellaheen?"