“I don’t know,” I answered, and thought hard for a minute. “By Jove, Den!” I cried suddenly, “I believe I’ve got it. This takes us back to Garnesk’s idea of a wireless invention causing all the trouble. We think we have reason to believe that Fuller may have stolen the dog. We also think we have reason to believe that one of his yacht-hands is what you called ‘a mathematical master.’ Now, suppose the paper had got hold of this and printed an illustration of the mysterious invention or perhaps a photograph of the mysterious inventor?”
“And the inventor, knowing that we should accuse him of blinding Miss McLeod and making off with her dog, the moment we could identify him, tears out the offending illustration in case either we or anyone else in the neighbourhood should see it? He admitted, by the way, that he never went into port if he could help it.”
“Well, anyway,” I said, “we’ll have a look for the paper and find the missing page.”
“You noticed the date?” Dennis asked, anxiously.
“Oh! it was this week’s issue,” I replied.
“Do they take it at the house?” he inquired, again with a note of anxiety.
“Not that I know of, but we’ll rake one up somewhere, don’t you fret. And, I say, this is a fine way to welcome a visitor; you haven’t even said how-do to your host and hostess. I’m most awfully sorry.”
“Don’t be an ass, Ronnie,” said Dennis, cheerfully. “With the utmost respect, as you barrister chaps would say, I hadn’t noticed your departure from the requirements of conventional hospitality. I wouldn’t have missed this for all the world and a bit of Bond Street.”
So then we hurried to the house with a nervous energy, which spoke eloquently to our state of suppressed excitement.