Sir Clinton picked up the packet and opened out the papers. Some photographic prints attracted his attention, but he laid them aside and turned first to a plain sheet of paper on which the now familiar letters from telegraph forms had been gummed. With some deliberation he read the message.
“I enclose photographs of part of the correspondence which has recently taken place between Dr. Silverdale and Miss Deepcar.
“Justice.”
Sir Clinton gazed at the sheet for a moment or two, as though considering some matter unconnected with the message. At last he turned to the Inspector.
“I suppose you've tried this thing for finger-prints? No good, eh? I can still smell a faint whiff of rubber from it—off his gloves, I suppose.”
Flamborough shook his head in agreement with Sir Clinton's surmise.
“Nothing on it whatever, sir,” he confirmed.
The Chief Constable laid down the sheet of paper and took up one of the photographs. It was of ordinary half-plate size and showed a slightly reduced copy of one page of a letter.
that things cannot go on any
longer in this way.The plan we talked over last
seems the best. When I have given
Hassendean hints about the use of
hyoscine, he will probably see for
himself how to get what he wants.
After that, it merely means watching
them, and I am sure that we shall soon
have her out of our way. It will be
very easy to make it seem intentional
on their part; and no one is likely
to look further than that.
Flamborough watched the Chief Constable's face as he read the message, and as soon as he saw that Sir Clinton had completed his perusal of it, the Inspector put in his word.
“I've checked the writing, sir. It's Silverdale's beyond any doubt.”