“That is all. Only, as I say, Jarvis thinks they mean mischief, though he caught only a few words pointing to the necessity for haste in what they had to do. They seemed to be much afraid that you would see the ‘ad.’”
Brant leaned forward to flick the ash from his cigar. “I presume Jarvis saw them when they went out. What did they look like?”
“That is just where the otherwise irreproachable Jarvis fell down,” said the editor. “He posted himself conveniently behind the curtains of his box when they stirred, but unfortunately there is a back door to Heddrigg’s place, and they used it.”
“Leaving the Herald behind them?” queried Brant.
“Not much! But Jarvis went through the file and found the ‘ad’ after he came back here.”
Brant smoked reflectively for a few minutes and then rose to go.
“I am much obliged to you, Forsyth. It was good of you to give me the pointer.”
The editor made an effort to detain him. “Don’t be in a hurry; the night is young.”
“Yes, but I think I would better be going.”
Forsyth tilted his chair and made a monocle of one side of his pince nez through which to quiz his visitor.