"Not there!" he said. "It—well, it looks as if Madame really had sent him! Her business."
"Of course she'd sent him!" exclaimed Hetherwick. "Sent him under compulsion! The whole thing's a clever plant! These fellows probably know that she's employed Garrowell now and then, and they forced her to write a letter to him, authorising him to come here again, and enclosing an order on the Safe Deposit people! Don't you see?"
"By Gad, there's something in that, Matherfield!" said Lord Morradale. "Didn't strike me, though! 'Pon my honour, I really thought he had come direct from her. Couldn't think why, exactly, but then, as Matherfield says, a highly-respectable solicitor—eh?"
"We'll soon settle it!" exclaimed Matherfield suddenly. "We'll go to Garrowell's office. Better discuss it there than have tackled him here. Anyway, he'll have the square box. Quigman, call a taxi!"
"There's a man here waiting for me," said Hetherwick. He signalled to his former driver who quickly came alongside. "For anything we know," he continued, as all four took their seats, and were driven off, "Garrowell may have gone straight away somewhere to hand that box over! We ought to have followed."
"I don't think so," replied Matherfield. "The whole thing's queer, and not at all what I expected. Lord Morradale says that he never heard of madame employing Garrowell, and yet the Safe people say he's been here two or three times on her business. But we'll soon have it out of him."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE LANDLADY OF LITTLE SMITH STREET
Garrowell's office proved to be up two flights of stairs in St. Martin's Lane. They were dark and dingy stairs, and none of the four men clambering up them noticed that an office-boy, rushing unceremoniously downward carried a small parcel with which he fled out of the door and away down the street. They were, indeed, thinking of Garrowell—and within five minutes they were all in his private room. For another five minutes Matherfield was explaining matters—explaining to an obviously startled and much astonished listener.