We were interrupted by a knock at the study door, and Coates came in with the evening mail.
"Excuse me, Gatton," I said—for I had observed that one of the letters was from Isobel.
Eagerly I tore open the envelope ... and what I read struck a sudden chill to my heart. Looking up:
"Gatton!" I cried—"Miss Merlin has received, by post, a small statuette of Bâst!"
"What!"
"From her brief description I am almost tempted to believe that it is the one which was stolen from here! She is dreadfully frightened, naturally."
The Inspector stood up.
"We must see it," he said rapidly, "at once; and we must see the wrapping it came in and the postmark. It is maddening," he burst out angrily, "to think that Dr. Damar Greefe may be somewhere within less than half a mile of us as we sit here now, that we could ring him up if we knew his number; but that even with all the resources of the Criminal Investigation Department at work we may yet be unable to find him! Even an outside suburb like this is a very big place to search and the job is something like looking for a needle in a haystack!"
My own frame of mind was one of horrible doubt and indecision. I knew not what to do for the best; and Gatton had begun to pace up and down like a caged wild beast. Therefore:
"Fill your pipe," I said wearily. "A lot may depend upon our next move. To make a false one would perhaps be fatal."