Outside, he turned to Lord Morradale with a shake of the head.
"We're no nearer to any knowledge of where the two women are!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, I don't know!" responded Lord Morradale. "I think we are, you know. You see, if Matherfield nabs those chaps, or even one of them, he or they will see that the game's up, and will give in and say where their captives are. Odd business, Hetherwick, that people can be kidnapped and imprisoned in broad daylight in London!"
"I don't think anything's impossible or odd—in London," answered Hetherwick dryly. "If one had only the least idea as to which quarter of the town that car was driven, one might be doing something!"
"Lots of sub-sections in every quarter, and subsections again in each of those," replied Lord Morradale with equal dryness. "Take some time to comb out this town! No! I think we must trust to Matherfield. Nothing else to trust to, in fact."
But Hetherwick suddenly thought of Mapperley. He began to wonder what the clerk was after, what his notion had been. Then he remembered Mapperley's admonition to look out for a message about that time, and excusing himself from Lord Morradale, he jumped on a bus and went along to the Temple. There, in the letter-box, he found a telegram:
"Meet me Victoria three o'clock. Mapperley."
Hetherwick set off for Victoria there and then. But it was only a quarter-past two when he got there, and as he had had no lunch, he turned into the restaurant. There, when he was half-way through a chop, Mapperley found him, and slipped into a chair close by before Hetherwick noticed his presence.
"Thought I might find you in here, sir," said Mapperley. They were alone in a quiet corner, but the clerk lowered his voice to a whisper. "Well," he continued, bending across the table, "I've done a bit, anyhow."
"In what way?" asked Hetherwick.