“Become an amateur detective—eh, Owen?”
“Well, my curiosity has certainly been aroused, and I intend to go to the house late to-night and look round the garden. Will you come?”
He was one of the best of good fellows, overflowing with good humour and good nature. His face seemed to wear a perpetual smile of contentment.
“Of course. But tell me more,” he asked.
“I will—afterwards,” I said. “Let’s dine together somewhere, and turn in at the Empire afterwards. We don’t want to get to Bayswater before midnight, as we mustn’t be seen. Don’t dress. I’ll bring an electric torch.”
“I’ve got one. I’ll bring mine also,” he replied, at once entering into the spirit of the adventure. “Only you might tell me what’s in the wind, Owen,” he added.
“I’ll tell you afterwards, old chap,” I promised.
And then we separated, agreeing to meet at eight at a well-known restaurant which we often patronized.
That night, when the curtain fell at the Empire, we both went forth and strolled along to St. James’s Street to get a drink at the club. The later we went forth on our nocturnal inquiry, the better.
I recollected that look of terror and astonishment on Forbes’s countenance when his gaze had met mine outside the bank—a look which showed that he had believed me to be safely out of the way. He had never dreamed I was still alive! Hence it seemed to me certain that the pair of malefactors, having secured the money, would at once make themselves scarce. How, I wondered, could they have known of Jack Marlowe, unless they had watched us both in secret, as seemed most likely.