It had been awaiting me two days. Guessing that there must be a letter from Dick which would throw light on this telegram, I glanced quickly through the pile. I soon came to one addressed in his handwriting.
I had to read it through twice before I fully realized what it all meant. Then I turned quickly to Albeury.
"Read that," I said, pushing the letter to him across the table.
He picked it up and adjusted his glasses. A few moments later he sprang suddenly to his feet.
"My God! Mr. Berrington!" he exclaimed, "this is most serious! And it was written "he glanced at the date"eight days agothe very day you left London."
"What is to be done?" I said quickly.
"You may well ask," he answered. He looked up at the clock. "The police must be shown this at once, and, under the circumstances, told everything that happened in France. I had hoped to be able to entrap the gang without dealing with Scotland Yard direct."
For some moments he paced the room. Never since I had met him had I seen him so perturbedhe was at all times singularly calm. I was not, however, surprised at his anxiety, for it seemed more than likely that quite unwittingly, and with the best intentions, Dick Challoner had not merely landed us in a terrible mess, but that he had certainly turned the tables upon us, leaving Dulcie and myself at the mercy of this desperate gang. On board the boat I had mentioned Dick to the detective, and told him about the cypher, and the part that Dick had played. He had not seemed impressed, as I had expected him to be, and without a doubt he had not been pleased. All he had said was, I now remembered: "It's a bad thing to let a boy get meddling with a matter of this kind, Mr. Berrington"he had said it in a tone of some annoyance. And now, it would seem, his view had been the right one. What Dick had done, according to this letter just received from him, had been to start advertising in the Morning Post on his own accountin the cypher code which he had discoveredserious messages intended for the gang and that must assuredly have been read by them. With his letter two cuttings were enclosedhis two messages already published. As I looked at them again a thought flashed across me. Now I knew how it came about that my impenetrable disguise had been discovered. Now I knew how it came about that Alphonse Furneaux had been released from the room where Preston had locked him in his flat. And now I knew why the members of the gang had left the "Continental" so suddenly, scattering themselves probably in all directions, and why the woman Stapleton had dashed back to London.
I caught my breath as my train of thought hurried on. Another thought had struck me. I held my breath! Yes, it must be so. Try as I would I could not possibly deceive myself.
Dick had unwittingly been responsible for the murder of George Preston!