"We will all come with you," said Thorndyke; "but you will, naturally, make the arrest in the way that seems best to you."
"It's a regular procession," grumbled the inspector; but he made no more definite objection, and we started forth on our quest.
The distance from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn is not great. In five minutes we were at the gateway in Chancery Lane, and a couple of minutes later saw us gathered round the threshold of the stately old house in New Square.
"Seems to be a light in the first-floor front," said Badger. "You'd better move away before I ring the bell."
But the precaution was unnecessary. As the inspector advanced to the bell-pull a head was thrust out of the open window immediately above the street door.
"Who are you?" inquired the owner of the head in a voice which I recognized as that of Mr. Jellicoe.
"I am Inspector Badger of the Criminal Investigation Department. I wish to see Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"Then look at me. I am Mr. Arthur Jellicoe."
"I hold a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Jellicoe. You are charged with the murder of Mr. John Bellingham, whose body has been discovered in the British Museum."
"By whom?"