“P.S. (in haste).—I may as well inform you that no crib is really uncrackable, though the Cyrus J. Coy Co.’s Safe Deposit on West 24th Street, N.Y., comes nearest the kernel. And even that I could work to the bare rock if I took hold of the job with both hands—that is to say I could have done in my sinful days. As for you, I should recommend you to change your T. A. to ‘Peanut.’
“U. K. G.”
“There sounds a streak of the old Adam in that postscript, Mr Carlyle,” whispered Inspector Beedel, who had just arrived in time to hear the letter read.
THE TILLING SHAW MYSTERY
“I will see Miss George now,” assented Carrados. Parkinson retired and Greatorex looked round from his chair. The morning “clearing-up” was still in progress.
“Shall I go?” he inquired.
“Not unless the lady desires it. I don’t know her at all.”
The secretary was not unobservant and he had profited from his association with Mr Carrados. Without more ado, he began to get his papers quietly together.
The door opened and a girl of about twenty came eagerly yet half timorously into the room. Her eyes for a moment swept Carrados with an anxious scrutiny. Then, with a slight shade of disappointment, she noticed that they were not alone.