“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Toward Trafalgar Square,” murmured Wessex.
“Ah,” said Innes, shaking his head, “that clue is of no importance. Under the circumstances the chief would be much more likely to head away from his objective than toward it.”
“Quite,” murmured Wessex. “I agree with you. But what’s this?”
The telephone bell was ringing, and as Innes eagerly took up the receiver:
“Yes, yes, Mr. Innes speaking,” he said, quickly. “Is that you, Rector?”
The voice of Rector, one of Paul Harley’s assistants, answered him over the wire:
“I am speaking from Victoria Station, Mr. Innes.”
“Yes!” said Innes. “Go ahead.”
“A very odd-looking woman visited Mr. Nicol Brinn’s chambers this evening. She was beautifully dressed, but wore the collar of her fur coat turned up about her face, so that it was difficult to see her. But somehow I think she was an Oriental.”