"The letter is gone—I have lost it!" he concluded, with a sinking heart. "But where and how? And if it is found—"
There was a sharp rap at the door, and as quickly it opened, without invitation. Two stern-looking men, dressed in plain clothes, stepped into the room. Jack knew at once what the visit meant, and with a supreme effort he braced himself to meet the ordeal. It was hard work to stand erect and to keep his face from twitching.
"You are John Vernon?" demanded one of the men.
"Yes."
"I will be very brief, sir. I am a Scotland Yard officer, and I am here to arrest you on suspicion of having murdered your wife, known as Diane Merode, at Number 324 Beak street, last night."
"I expected this," Jack replied. "I have just seen the paper—I knew nothing of the crime before. I am entirely innocent, though I admit that the circumstances—"
"I warn you not to say anything that may incriminate yourself. You must come with me, sir!"
"I understand that, and I will go quietly. I am quite ready. And at the proper time I will speak."
There was no delay. One of the officers remained to search the apartments, and Jack accompanied the other downstairs. They got into a cab and drove off, while Mrs. Jones shook her fist at them from the doorway, loudly protesting that she was a disgraced and ruined woman forever.
The magistrate was sitting in the court at Great Marlborough street, and Jack was taken there to undergo a brief preliminary formality. Contrary to advice, he persisted in making a statement, after which he was removed to the Holloway prison of detention to await the result of the coroner's inquest.