"Indeed, sir?" he said, interested.
"But about this signature," I went on, again addressing the operator. "How does this telegram you sent off come to be signed if the original was not signed?"
"It was signed, sir. It must have been. Otherwise the name wouldn't have been telegraphed. AhI remember!"
"Remember what?"
"The signature was in pencil. Just after the telegram had been despatched, the lady came in again and asked if she might see the message again just for a momentshe was not sure if she had said something she had meant to say, she said. I got it and gave it to her, and a moment or two afterwards she gave it back to me, thanking me very much for having let her see it. She must have rubbed off the signature then. She could do it easy with a damp finger. Of course, I ought to have looked, but I didn't think to."
"I think we have now solved the mysteryin part," I exclaimed triumphantly. "This is some abominable conspiracy, and I am going to get to the bottom of it. My name was evidently signed, telegraphed, and then purposely obliterated."
After thanking the postmaster for his extreme courtesy and for the trouble he had taken, and impressing upon him that under no circumstances was the bright-eyed little operator to be censured, or allowed to get into any trouble, I returned with the policeman, who was now quite apologetic, to the house in Grafton Street. The door was locked. A constable standing by, however, told us that Osborne and Easterton had driven away together in a car"his lordship's car, which his lordship had telephoned for," he said, and that "the two ladies had gone to the Ritz for tea"he had heard them say, as they walked away, that they were going there.
Alone I followed them. I know my way about the Ritz as though I lived there, being there so often with friends, and I soon found Aunt Hannah and Dulcie. They were alone in a cosy private tea-room leading out of one of the large rooms which is but seldom used, having tea.
I saw Aunt Hannah stiffen as I approached. I saw tooand this disturbed me far morethat Dulcie had been weeping. Her eyes were still quite moist.
"What do you wish, Mr. Berrington?" Aunt Hannah inquired starchily, sitting bolt upright in her chair as I approached.