MR HAVELOCK had scarcely reached his office the following morning when d**k arrived. The bushy brows of that gentleman rose at the sight of his visitor.
“I’ve come to make a confession, Mr Havelock,” he began.
“That sounds ominous,” said the other, his eyes twinkling.
“Maybe it’s more ominous than it sounds,” said d**k. “I’ve kept something back from you—information which ought to be in your hands.”
Briefly he told the story of the blotting-paper he had found in the hotel in Buenos Aires.
“Obviously Lord Selford is in communication with this person. Because I wasn’t quite sure how the land lay, and whether there was something behind Selford’s absence from England, I took the trouble to investigate.”
“Mr Bertram Cody?” frowned Havelock, “I seem to remember that name.”
“Possibly you r
