‘I want you to send out another circular to the taxi-men, Jimmy. I have it here.’
The paper she handed him read:
‘Ten Pounds Reward
‘The above reward will be paid to the taxi driver who picked up a fare’—here followed a description of Cosgrove—‘about 7.50 on Wednesday evening, 7th July, in or near Knightsbridge, on his identifying the man picked up from a photograph, and saying where he was set down. Apply—’ and here followed Jimmy’s address.
‘But my dear girl,’ the latter objected, ‘we have already sent that out, or practically that.’
‘Never mind, Jimmy,’ she said, with one of the brilliant smiles that lit up her face and made it momentarily beautiful. ‘Do this for me, and don’t ask questions.’ Before he realized what she was going to do, she had kissed him lightly on the forehead, and with a whirl of skirts was gone.
‘By Jove!’ said Jimmy weakly to himself as the door closed. ‘What bee has she got in her bonnet now? At any rate she might have waited and explained.’ But he did what he had been asked, and two days later the new circular was in the hands of the taxi-men.
And it bore early fruit. Only a few hours after its distribution there was an answer. A small, sallow, rat-faced man in a peaked cap and leather coat called to see Daunt.
‘You think you picked up the man described in the letter?’ asked Jimmy, as he produced his six photographs. ‘Was he one of these?’
Like his confrère of a day or two earlier, the man glanced over the cards and unhesitatingly drew out Cosgrove’s portrait.
‘That’s ’im, mister,’ he also said decisively.