His words aroused my anger bitterly. That Roseye had held any communication with the enemy I absolutely refused to believe. Such suggestion was perfectly monstrous!
Yet how was it possible that anyone should know of the success of our experiments at Gunnersbury?
Recollection of that well-remembered night when Teddy had declared there had been strangers prowling about, flashed across my mind.
I knew, too well, that the evil that had befallen me, as well as the disappearance of my well-beloved, had been the work of the Invisible Hand—that dastardly, baneful influence that had wrecked my machine and nearly hurled me to the grave.
“Well,” I said at last, “I would much like a copy of this remarkable document.”
“I fear that I cannot give it to you, Mr Munro,” was the captain’s slow reply. “At present it is a confidential matter, concerning only the Department, and the person in whose possession it was.”
“We must find that person,” I said resolutely.
“What is your theory regarding Miss Lethmere?” I asked, turning to Barton.
“Well, Mr Munro, it would appear that either the lady herself, or some thief, threw the chatelaine from a train passing north through the tunnel.”
“There may have been a struggle,” I remarked, “and in trying to raise the alarm it might have dropped from her hand.”