The man sprang from his chair.
"Murdered! Then—by heaven! you're—you're thinking that——"
"And her companion, a Mrs. Harrison, is not to be found," I added.
"Mrs. Jardine—dead! Then I come into my own. The night before last—where was I? Drunk. I didn't get home."
"I know that. I called here yesterday."
"Are you thinking that I had a hand in it?"
"I am looking for her companion," I answered.
Had there been no missing companion I should have been very doubtful about Thomas Jardine; as it was, the two became connected in my mind. I left the Hammersmith flat, stopping outside to give instructions to the man I had brought with me to keep a watch upon Jardine's movements.
Then I went to Wimbledon to see Martha Wakeling again, but I did not tell her I had seen Jardine.
"Do you think you could find me any of Mrs. Harrison's handwriting?" I asked.