“Yesterday, about four o’clock, a gentleman called, sir,” my old servant went on. “He was very anxious to see you, and seemed worried that you were away. I told him I expected you back today. Then, after hesitating a little, he asked leave to come in and write a note for you. He’s left it on your table, sir.”
“Who was he?”
“I’ve never seen him before, sir. He was a tall man with a long hooked nose, and a thin face deeply lined.”
It sounded very like a description of my affable friend from Bradford!
“Did you notice his tie-pin?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. It was a funny one—like a little eye.”
I dashed into my room where upon my blotting-pad lay a letter. This I tore open and read. It was written in the same handwriting as that mysterious letter to the Coroner, and upon a sheet of my own note-paper.
“Do you refuse to be warned?” it read. “Drop your search for Stanley Audley, or next time steps will be taken to prevent you from escaping. It is known that you love Thelma, and that is forbidden, for Stanley Audley still lives, and is watching you!”
There was no signature. I took from my pocket the strange letter left in my bedroom and compared them. The writing was exactly similar.
“How long was the man here?” I asked of Mrs. Chapman, on entering the little kitchen of the flat.