“Oh, I know all about that!” Masterson exhibited some irritation. “But I mean really help. I was just going to tell you. When I was with Hoode, before I told him about this business, I went to one of those filthy private inquiry agents. I was so absolutely certain, you see. I told this chap to find out, if he could, who the enemy was. Or rather I told him to find out who really owned the three newspapers. He thought I was mad, said he could do it in a day—but he didn’t! I think he imagined he’d only got to look it up or get some one from Fleet Street to tell him. Of course, that didn’t work, he only gave me the three figureheads that’re shown to the trusting world. But when I laughed at him, and explained a little, I think he got his back up and really went for the job.”
“D’you mean to say——” began Anthony.
“No, I don’t! Before I heard any more I had the row with Hoode—I didn’t tell him about the ’tec, of course; I was too angry—and dropped the whole business and paid this chap off. He was very fed up—kept trying to see me, and writing. Of course—well in the state I was in, I refused to see him and chucked his letters into the fire. But he was so very eager! He might know something, I think!”
Anthony was elated. “He might indeed. Masterson, you’re a treasure! What’s the name?”
“Pellet, he calls himself. Office is at 4, Grogan’s Court, off Fleet Street, just past Chancery Lane.”
“Excellent! Now I’m going.” Anthony held out his hand. “And thank you. Hope I’ve done you no harm.”
“Not a bit. Feel better already. Let me know how you get on. Going to sleep now,” said the invalid, and did, before Anthony had reached the door.
In the passage, Anthony hesitated. Should he go straight from the flat or should he tell Her first that he was going? Then, as he reached it, the door of the drawing-room opened.
The passage was dimly lit, and at first she did not see him. He moved towards her. There came a startled “Oh!” of surprise; then she straightened herself into a rigidity eloquent of protest. Anthony groaned. He had hoped the ruffled feathers smooth again.
“Your brother,” he said, “is asleep. By the look of him he’s in for a good twelve hours. He’s none the worse and I’m even more full of information than I’d hoped to be. So everything in the garden is lovely!”