"I beg your pardon. Does that pocket-book contain any London address of Mr. Davenport?"
"I don't know," said the inspector; "and I am afraid I have already shown you too much."
"I'd be very much obliged to you if you'd see. I represent Mrs. Davenport in this matter, and at the moment I don't know where to find her. She omitted to give me her address when she left me this afternoon. I want to write to her, and if you find any London address of Mr. Davenport, I'll chance directing my letter there. That can do no harm to any one."
The inspector hesitated, but at length opened the pocket-book, and after a search, said:
"There's an address here at Jermyn Street; but it's six years old."
"Never mind," said Pringle; "I'll risk it. What is it?"
The inspector read it out, and Pringle took it down.
Pringle, Alfred Paulton, and Jerry O'Brien were about to leave the room, when the first turned to the inspector, and said:
"By-the-way, you did not find the page that has been torn out of the pocket-book?"
"No," said the inspector, nodding his head significantly; "but there's evidence enough on what we did find to hang a score of men."