Another point occurred to French. Alfred Beer had stated, no doubt in all good faith, that the conversation he had overheard in the Berlyn’s shrubbery was between Mrs. Berlyn and Stanley Pyke, and French had naturally assumed that the “ ’e” referred to was Berlyn. But were he and Beer correct? Might the scene not equally well have been between the lady and Jefferson and might “ ’e” not have been Stanley? French decided to look up his notes of the matter at the earliest opportunity.
He had little doubt that at long last he was on to the truth. Jubilantly he handed over the half-crown to Ganope’s boy and dismissed him with the assurance that he would never hear of the matter again.
As to his next step there could be no question. He walked quickly to Kepple Street and asked if Mr. Jefferson Pyke was at home.
Pyke was out, but was expected shortly. Hugging himself for his luck, French said that if he might, he would like to wait for Mr. Pyke. The landlady remembered his previous visit and made no difficulty about showing him up to her lodger’s sitting room.
Before the door closed behind her French saw that his lucky star was still in the ascendant. There on the chimneypiece stood a note addressed “Mr. Jefferson Pyke” in the same handwriting as that for “Mr. James Hurley.”
French carried an old razor blade in his pocket and in less than a minute the envelope was open. The note read:
“Danger. Meet me to-night at old time and place.”
French swore softly in high delight. He had them now! Here was convincing proof of their guilt.
But it was insufficient to bring into court. He must get something more definite. With skilful fingers he reclosed the envelope and put it back where he had found it. Then he settled down to wait for Pyke.
In less than ten minutes the man appeared. French, smiling his pleasant smile, greeted him apologetically.