Ela was thinking deeply, and frowning at the untidiness of the table.
"Do you remember that locket which you found on one of the dead men in Brakely Square?" he asked suddenly.
T. B. nodded. He put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, for he had carried that locket ever since the night of its discovery.
"Let us have a look at the inscription again," said Ela.
They drew up chairs to the table and examined the little circular label which they had found in the battered interior.
"Mor: Cot.
God sav the Keng."
Ela shook his head helplessly.
"I am perfectly sure there is a solution here," he said. "Do you see those words on the top? 'Mor: Cot.'—that stands for Moor Cottage."
"By Jove, so it does," said T. B., picking up the locket; "that never struck me before. It was the secret of Moor Cottage which this man discovered, and with which he was trying to blackmail our friend. So far as the patriotic postscript is concerned that is beyond my understanding."