By the “Tube” from Tottenham Court Road Station he travelled to Notting Hill Gate, and turning into Pembridge Gardens, let himself in with his latch-key.
Frank was with Gwen in the drawing-room, and they were taking their tea tête-à-tête when the old man entered. After luncheon he had taken her to a matinée, and the happy pair had only just returned.
“Tell me, Frank,” asked the Professor, almost before he had time to greet him, “did that friend of yours, Diamond, show those papers to any one else besides you, do you think?”
“Certainly not. Why?” inquired the young man in some surprise.
“Oh, nothing,” replied the Professor with slight hesitation. “I—well—I only thought that it would be a little unfair to trouble me if somebody else had already been making any researches.”
“Nobody has seen it save myself, I can assure you. Diamond is a most careful and cautious man,” Frank declared. “He brought them straight over from Paris, and came at once to me.”
“He might possibly have shown them to somebody in Paris,” the elder man suggested.
“I asked him, and he distinctly told me that nobody save myself had set eyes upon them.”
The Professor sank into an armchair, and in silence took the cup of tea which Gwen handed to him.
“You’re tired, dad,” she said. “I see it in your face!”