The maid hesitated.
“I did ’ear Mr Welsh say something about lookin’ for rooms,” she allowed.
“In London?”
“I expect so, sir; but ’e didn’t say no more.”
“Mr Welsh is the friend who came with him, of course?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks,” said Mr Bunker. “By the way, Dr Twiddel might not like your telling this even to a friend, so you [pg 203] needn’t say I called, I’ll tell him myself when I see him, and I won’t give you away.”
He smiled benignly, and the little maid thanked him quite gratefully.
“Evidently,” he thought as he went away, “I was meant for something in the detective line.”
He returned to his rooms to meditate, and the longer he thought the more puzzled he became, and yet the more convinced that he had taken up a thread that must lead him somewhere.