CHAPTER XXVI.
AMBLER JEVONS IS BUSY.
The sleepy-eyed tea-blender of Mark Lane remained plunged in a deep reverie during the greater part of the journey to town, and on arrival at King’s Cross declined to allow me to accompany him. This disappointed me. I was eager to pursue the clue, but no amount of persuasion on my part would induce him to alter his decision.
“At present I must continue alone, old fellow,” he answered kindly. “It is best, after all. Later on I may want your help.”
“The facts I’ve told you are of importance, I suppose?”
“Of the greatest importance,” he responded. “I begin to see light through the veil. But if what I suspect is correct, then the affair will be found to be absolutely astounding.”
“Of that I’m certain,” I said. “When will you come in and spend an hour?”
“As soon as ever I can spare time,” he answered. “To-morrow, or next day, perhaps. At present I have a very difficult task before me. Good-bye for the present.” And hailing a hansom he jumped in and drove away, being careful not to give the address to the driver while within my hearing. Ambler Jevons had been born with the instincts of a detective. The keenness of his intellect was perfectly marvellous.