“And what was in the letter for him to make such a fuss about?”
The boy shrugged his shoulders.
“That was the extraordinary part of it. The letter was perfectly harmless. It was an ordinary business letter from a firm in Holland ...”
“In Holland?” cried Greve. “Did you say in Holland? Tell me the name! No, wait, see if I can remember. ‘Van’ something—‘Speck’ or ‘Spike’ ...”
“I remember the name perfectly,” answered Bruce, rather puzzled by the other’s sudden outburst; “it was Van der Spyck and Co. of Rotterdam. We had a good deal of correspondence with them ...”
Robin Greve had opened his cigarette-case and drawn from it a creased square of blue paper folded twice across. Unfolding it, he held up the sheet he had found in the library at Harkings.
“Is that the paper those letters were written on?” he asked.
Bruce took the sheet from him. He held it up to the light.
“Why, yes,” came the prompt answer. “I’d know it in a minute. Look, it’s the same water-mark. ‘Egmont.’ Where did you get hold of it?”
“Bruce,” said Robin gravely, without answering the question, “we’re getting into deep water, boy!”