CHAP. VIt was with real curiosity he awaited the arrival of his letters the next morning. What was this strange document the dead man had sent to his sister? Was the whole thing a mare's nest, or could it be possible that by some strange fluke he had stumbled on something genuine?
He recognised the writing at once, and sitting down in a deserted corner of the smoking-room he opened the envelope. There was a short covering note that he glanced at first.
"Dear Mr. Maitland"--it ran:
"I enclose the map. Am expecting you about twelve.
"Yours sincerely,
"Judy Draycott."
Then he turned his attention to the enclosure. It was as she had said a map, or rather half a map. Evidently the original had been cut in two, and the murdered man's idea was obvious. He had kept one half himself: the othe
