CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE MORNING GOWN
Wedgwood did no more that afternoon. For the first time since the Handel Street affair had been put into his hands he, to use his own expression, slacked off—his mental powers were becoming weary through sheer inability to see his way clear to any solution of the mystery. He put the whole thing out of his head, treated himself to a good dinner and to an evening at the theatre, and as a result of his festivities, woke next morning keener than ever to go on with his work. If he could only get a firm grip on one of the many strings. . . .
He was down to the Passport Office as soon as its doors opened at ten o'clock, and within a quarter of an hour he had made a discovery. Within the last week a passport had been granted to Thomas Wraypoole, and endorsed for the United States and for the Argentine Republic. But at the same time a similarly endorsed passport had been granted to Mrs. Thomas Wraypoole, described as Thomas Wraypoole's wife. This puzzled Wedgwood: he had been given to understand that Thomas
