He ordered a couple of Martinis and then plunged at once into the business which was engrossing both their minds.
“My man rang up about an hour ago,” he said. “He got onto Gregg all right. He managed to square the ticket-collector and stood by his side as the passengers passed through. The collector spotted the Whitbury ticket and gave him the tip and he followed the man. He says he answered to our description. I think it was Gregg all right.”
“Where did he go?” asked Fayre.
His lips twitched involuntarily, for he guessed what was coming.
“To a doctor’s house, or rather flat. Brackley Mansions, Victoria Street. He took his luggage in, so that looks as if he meant to stay there, unless it was a blind.”
“Good work,” was Fayre’s only comment.
Grey looked at him sharply.
“What’s the joke?” he asked.
“Nothing much, only we had our noses pulled rather thoroughly over that address by Lady Cynthia!”
He told Grey what had happened.