on and so on. Now, who is this Philip Mortover, and what's he got to do with the name on that manuscript that was stolen when John Wraypoole was murdered, and with that girl who came to see you yesterday? The name's too uncommon to allow one to think that all this is a mere coincidence! What do you think, Wedgwood?"
"That I shall have to be extremely careful in my work when I get down there!" said the detective. "That's what I think!"
"You'll go—after seeing this?"
"Why not?"
"Two of the directors," answered the inspector, putting his finger on the paper again, "live in London, you see. Information might be got from them—they seem to be men of position and substance. Then, the solicitors and brokers are in London—they could be approached———"
"No!" said Wedgwood. "I'll go to the fountain-head—where Wraypoole had just been. Seems to me that he discovered something about this affair, and that the girl, Avice Mortover has—or, perhaps, ought to have—something to do with it. No! I'll get down to Netherwell and find out what I can on the spot. Of course, what I do want to find out is—what John Wraypoole was doing, or trying to do, or actually did
