“I didn’t know anything about it.”
“But you are not surprised to hear of the photographer?”
“I am. At least I should be if you assured me one was there.”
“Did you know that the handwriting of Colonel Domlio’s letter has been identified?”
Once again the colour ebbed away from her face.
“What letter?” she cried, faintly. “I don’t know what letter you mean or what you are talking about. You have made me quite confused with your questions. I scarcely know what I am saying.”
French felt that he had got the effect he wanted. He therefore reassured her by a few innocuous questions, then with a change of manner he apologised for having given unnecessary annoyance and took his leave.
The taxi was standing far down the street with the bonnet open and the driver bending over the engine. French got in and he and Carter sat watching the house.
For half an hour they waited; then Mrs. Berlyn appeared, and walking to King’s Road, turned in the direction of Sloan Square. Presently she hailed a taxi, causing French to congratulate himself on his prevision.
Mrs. Berlyn drove to Victoria, and hurriedly paying off their own man, the detectives followed her into the station. With a rapid look round she made her way to the telephone boxes and disappeared into one of them.