A wave of scarlet passed over the young man's pallid face.
"I was a fool, I suppose, but as I was passing the station I saw, or I fancied I saw, the face of that girl whom Margaret called Aggie and I thought it might be a clue. I wasn't certain, I didn't pay much attention to the creature when I saw her with my girl in Trafalgar Square. And so, without stopping to think, I rushed up the steps, took a ticket, dashed on to the platform, and just had time to tell the porter to take a message up to my mother, who might have been anxious and started off."
"Yes," said Cleek, quietly. "But what about this Aggie you speak of? Did you see anything more of her?"
"Unfortunately, no, I lost sight of her at Waterloo, and knowing the futility of doing anything further—I—I came back——"
Cleek made a little clicking sound indicative of mild despair.
"I wish to God you had stayed away all night," he said under his breath.
"But that's just what I did do," returned Sir Edgar wearily. "When I got back to Hampton Station, a little boy came running up, and told me that this telegram had been waiting for me at the post office. I didn't stop to question, I can tell you, I simply tore it open, and when I read it, I was over that platform and off again before you could say 'Jack Robinson.'"
Cleek's eyes narrowed.
"What was in it; you don't happen to have kept it, I suppose?"
"As it happens, I have," said Sir Edgar, fumbling in his pocket and producing a crumpled ball of paper which Cleek took from his outstretched fingers.