“H’m.” Moss did not look at all impressed at this suggestion, but Shelley quickly rounded on him.

“I shall require your finger-prints, of course, Mr. Moss,” he said, “so that the finger-print department can eliminate them from the large number that will doubtless be on the envelope.”

“Certainly,” said Moss. “There will be no difficulty about that. Naturally, I don’t raise any objection at this stage.”

So he went through all the paraphernalia of inking fingers, one by one, and pressing them on the correct spaces on a marked and numbered card. One or two were slightly smudged, and had to be repeated, but at last Shelley announced himself satisfied with the results that they had attained. He rang a bell, and handed the card to a constable who had entered, telling him to take it down to the finger-print department for purposes of elimination in the specimen that he had just sent down.

“Tell them that these are the prints of Mr. Moss, the gentleman to whom the letter was addressed,” he said. “And ask them to send up the result by Sergeant Cunningham as soon as available. I hope they hurry up, too. We have to go to the north of England tonight.”

“North of England?” There was a question implicit in the tones of Moss’s voice.

“Yes,” said Shelley. “The gentleman who sent you that note—at any rate, I think he is responsible—kidnapped Miss Violet Arnell this afternoon. They are somewhere near Sheffield.”

“Ah!” Moss was suddenly eager, his whole face expressing surprised comprehension of something that had hitherto been puzzling him. “So that explains the reason for the note.”

“How?” Shelley could be laconic enough when his interest was aroused.

“I was to see Miss Arnell this afternoon or early evening—at least, that was the last arrangement that I had with her, I remember,” Moss announced.

“Why?”

“Well,” Moss hesitated. “We were sort of joint legatees of the old man,” he explained. “And I was in a way suggesting to her…suggesting to her…that she might care to…care to…” His halting speech petered away into silence. Shelley smiled.

“You were suggesting to her that she should advance you a little of the money that was to be yours in any case eventually,” he said.

“That’s it,” said Moss. “You see, I was in such a tight corner that I didn’t know where to turn; and I thought that she might possibly see her way clear to do something about it.”

“I follow,” said Shelley. “Of course, Mr. Moss, I suppose it never occurred to you that your motives might be misconstrued?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I should have thought that my meaning was clear enough.”

“Well, it isn’t; so I wish you’d explain yourself, and not go talking in riddles,” Moss objected.

“Well,” said Shelley, and paused. It was now his turn to find things rather difficult to say.