"Thank you—it's no matter," answered Wedgwood. "I'll contrive to see Mr. Levigne elsewhere."
He lifted his hat and moved off; as he retreated he heard the door locked and bolted again. For a moment or two he lingered, wondering if it would pay him to watch the house a little? But he was already weary with a long day's work, and presently he went away, towards the Underground station at Queen's Road, intending to go home. As he walked into the booking-office he ran into Nottidge.
Nottidge was not only in a hurry, but was obviously excited. The instant he saw the detective he gripped him by the arm and drew him aside.
"The very man!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Wedgwood, I've been telephoning after you all this afternoon—couldn't get any news of you!"
"Been away," said Wedgwood. "What is it?"
"This! At noon to-day I got a letter—woman's handwriting—no signature—saying that if I'd be at the corner of Queen's Road and Westbourne Grove to-night about ninethirty the writer would meet me and give me some information. Of course, it's about my advertisement—first result I've got!"
