"It is," I declared. "I believe I am now upon the verge of a very remarkable discovery—that ere long we shall know the details of that crime in South Kensington."
"Well, if you do succeed in elucidating the mystery you will accomplish a marvellous feat," said the great detective, placing his hands together and looking at me across his table. "I confess that I'm completely baffled. That friend of yours who called himself Kemsley has disappeared as completely as though the ground had opened and swallowed him."
"Ah, Edwards, London's a big place," I laughed, "and your men are really not very astute."
"Why not?"
"Because the man you want called at my rooms in Albemarle Street only a few days ago."
"What?" he cried, staring at me surprised.
"Yes, I was unfortunately out, but he left a message with my man that he would let me know his address later."
"Amazing impudence!" cried my friend. "He called in order to show his utter defiance of the police, I should think."
"No. My belief is that he wished to tell me something," I said. "Anyhow, he will either return or send his address."
"I very much doubt it. He's a clever rogue, but, like all men of his elusiveness and cunning, he never takes undue chances. No, Mr. Royle, depend upon it, he'll never visit you again."