And at the same time that Mr. Johnson was staring with a glassy stare at this astounding piece of news, a tall, spare man with lazy blue eyes, stretched out comfortably in the corner of a first-class carriage, was also perusing it.
“Several clues,” he murmured. “I wonder! But it was a very creditable job, though I say it myself.”
Which seemed a strange soliloquy for a well-dressed man in a first-class carriage. And what might have seemed almost stranger, had there been any way of knowing such a recondite fact, was that in one of the mail bags reposing in the back of the train, a mysterious transformation had taken place. For a letter which had originally contained two documents and had been addressed to J. Perrison, Esq., now contained three and was consigned to Miss Sybil Daventry. Which merely goes to show how careful one should be over posting letters.
IV
“Good evening, Mr. Perrison. All well, and taking nourishment, so to speak?”
Archie Longworth lounged into the hall, almost colliding with the other man.
“You look pensive,” he continued, staring at him blandly. “Agitato, fortissimo. Has aught occurred to disturb your masterly composure?”
But Mr. Perrison was in no mood for fooling: a message he had just received over the telephone had very considerably disturbed his composure.
“Let me have a look at that paper,” he snapped, making a grab at it.
“Tush! Tush!” murmured Archie. “Manners, laddie, manners! You’ve forgotten that little word.”