I pushed aside the tray, and taking a sheet of the notepaper which the constable had brought in, I composed with some care the following letter:—
"BOW STREET POLICE STATION,
Thursday.
"DEAR LORD LAMMERSFIELD,—The last time I had the pleasure of meeting you, at Sangatte's dance, you were good enough to say that I was to let you know if I ever found myself in prison. As you will see by my present address, this situation has arisen with unexpected abruptness. I don't know whether the interesting offence with which I am charged is now public property, but if so, I can assure you my present fame is quite unearned. If you could spare me half an hour of your time later in the day, I should be very grateful for your advice. In return, I can promise you a story which will help to relieve the regrettable monotony of the Home Office that you were complaining of last time we met—Yours sincerely,
"STUART NORTHCOTE."
From what I had seen of Lord Lammersfield, I felt fairly confident that this letter would bring him to the station. The circumstances attending the charge against me were so extraordinary, and his own interests so closely tied up with mine, that his curiosity about the case, if he had been informed of it, must already be overwhelming.
I was just addressing the envelope when Inspector Neil came in again, accompanied by the barber.
"Here you are, Inspector," I said, handing it to him. "This is the only letter I want to send at present, but I should be much obliged if it could be delivered at once."
He read the address with a mingled expression of surprise and respect. Then, calling the constable into the room, presumably to assist the barber in case I made a sudden dash for the razor, he went out with the letter in his hand.
I felt rather sorry for that barber. I think he must have had some inkling as to my identity, for I could see that he was almost bursting with anxiety to break into conversation. The cold eye of the constable was on us, however, and the poor man had to pursue his task in silence. He had just finished, and was mournfully dabbing me with the towel, when Inspector Neil returned.
"Your friend of last night, Mr. Logan, is here," he said. "You can see him now if you want to."