“But what is the point?”
Collins placed his finger on the postmark.
“Two forty-five,” said he. “This was sent off before the murder took place.”
The three men looked at each other in silence.
Chapter II.
Speculations
Collins, Sinclair and Boyce had just discussed an excellent glass of port after a frugal but well-cooked meal at Collins’ flat.
The room was tastefully but not luxuriously furnished, and was stamped with the individuality of the occupier.
Over the mantelpiece was an oar, a relic of the time when Collins had stroked his college boat to victory in the “Mays.”
Four selected pictures were on the walls, but the eye was caught by ‘Napoleon, the Last Phase,’ which seemed to dominate the room, with its tortured sadness.
Collins rose, rang the bell for coffee, and handed round cigars.