“Perfectly free, sir,” said Cunningham, “although I should like you if you happen to leave London, to let us know where we can get hold of you. You are an important person in this case, you see, and we just can’t afford to lose touch with you.”

“Right-ho,” Moss answered. “I’ll take care to do that. And that really is all?”

“That,” Cunningham said, “really is all.”

As he was about to leave the club, now rapidly filling up, Moss called him back.

“Might I be permitted to ask you one question, old man?” he asked.

“If you want to, fire away,” answered Cunningham. “Although, mind you,” he added cautiously, “I can’t guarantee to answer it. That must depend on my judgment.”

“Oh, of course, I understand that,” said Moss, with a smile. “Official secrecy and all that sort of thing. That’s understood, of course; that goes without saying. Oh, yes, certainly.”

Cunningham was rather puzzled at this indecision of Moss. The young man seemed uneasy and on edge, as if there were a question on the tip of his tongue, a question which he was longing to ask, but which, none the less, he did not dare to risk putting to the test.

“Well,” he said, at length, when Moss seemed to have talked himself to a standstill, so to speak, and did not show any inclination to ask this question, whatever it might be, “what is this question that you want to ask me?”

“Why,” asked Moss, “were you so surprised when I said that I’d been at the British Museum yesterday?”

“Do you mean to say you don’t know?” asked Cunningham.

Moss shook his head mutely.

“You said you read in the papers of Professor Arnell’s death,” Cunningham went on.

“That’s right,” said Moss.

“Didn’t your paper mention where he died?”

“No. Or if so, I didn’t notice it.”

“He died,” said Cunningham slowly, “in the Reading Room of the British Museum.”

Before he left Sally’s Club the detective saw Moses Moss slowly walk towards the bar, his face a ghastly white, and order a double brandy.

Chapter X

Chapter X

An Appeal

Mr. Henry Fairhurst clicked his teeth in annoyance. “Dear, dear,” he said mildly. “Now isn’t that too annoying for words?”

Miss Fairhurst looked up from her book. “Isn’t what annoying, Henry?” she asked. “I wish that you wouldn’t make these ridiculous statements without at least trying to explain what they mean.”

“Did I say that aloud?” asked her brother. “Really, Sarah, I wasn’t aware that I spoke my thoughts. I was, to tell you the truth, only thinking aloud.”

“If you think aloud, Henry,” returned Miss Fairhurst, “you should be prepared to share your thoughts and make an effort at explaining them.”