"What man—what about?" asked Miss Winder, sharply; for the interruption had come at an inopportune moment.
"About some advertisement, miss."
"Oh, yes, I know. Show him in." She turned to Didcott. "It's about my novel—news at last, evidently."
"News?"
"Yes. I forgot to tell you that I put an advertisement in the Times and the Morning Post. It only appeared this morning, and here is somebody already."
Didcott felt a faintness steal over him. "What did you say in the advertisement?" he asked.
"Oh, I simply said that on such and such a date, and at such and such a time, a parcel was left in a cab, and I asked anyone who knew anything about it to call here."
"I will leave you to interview this man," said Didcott. "I shall only be in the way."
"Oh, no, no," she cried; "it is so lucky you are here."
"THE DOOR OPENED, AND DIDCOTT
RECOGNISED THE FORM OF THE POLICEMAN
FROM WHOM HE HAD ESCAPED."