“It looks like it. You haven’t been able to find out anything about him?”
“Not a thing, sir; that is, not what would be any use. I can prove that he sent your telegram all right; the girl in the Post Office recognized his description. But I couldn’t get on to his trail after that. I’ve tried the stations and the docks and the posting establishments and the hotels and I can’t get a trace. But of course I’ll maybe get it yet.”
“What about the address given on his card?”
“Tried that first thing. No good. No one of the name known in the district.”
“When did the man arrive at the hotel?”
“Just after you did, Mr. Cheyne. He probably picked you up somewhere else and was following you to see where you’d get lunch.”
“Oh, well, that explains something. I was wondering how he knew I was going to the Edgecombe.”
“It doesn’t explain so very much, sir. Question still is, how did he get all that other information about you; the name of your lawyer and so on?”
Cheyne had to admit that the prospects of clearing up the affair were not rosy. “But what about the burglary?” he went on more hopefully. “That should be an easier nut to crack.”
Speedwell was still pessimistic.