“Mr. Ooma is evidently puzzled to learn what has become of the Hume-Frazers and Mrs. Capella.”
“Why do you bring in her name?”
“Because it leads to the second part of my story. Someone—Capella or his solicitors, I expect—instructed Messrs. Matchem and Smith, private detectives, to keep a close eye on the lady. Their man is an ex-police constable, a former subordinate of mine who was fined for taking a drink when he ought not to. Of course, I knew him and he knew me, so I hadn’t much trouble in getting it out of him.”
The speaker paused with due dramatic effect.
“Got what out of him?” cried Brett impatiently. “And don’t puff your cheeks in that way. Remember the terrible fate of the frog who would be a bull.”
“There’s neither frogs nor bulls in this business,” retorted Winter, calm in the consciousness of his coming revelation. “Mrs. Capella did go to Middle Street that night. She drove there in a hansom, had a long talk with Ooma, and nearly drove Miss Dew crazy with jealousy.”
“We guessed that already. Miss Dew is the prospective princess, I presume?”
“Yes. She has been twice to the hotel since, trying to find out where the party went to.”
“Next?”
“Ooma has plenty of money, and now for my prize packet—he is a Jap!”