Bill evinced no surprise at this early intrusion. ‘So you came back to Poppa, after all?’ he remarked languidly. ‘Let us mark the day with a white stone, oh, my friend— the dawn of intelligence at Scotland Yard! Breakfast?’
‘Presently...’
‘There’s a cable. It’s only just come...’ He fished out an envelope from among the papers and flicked it across the eiderdown to Dene who was perched at the end of the bed.
It was from Manderton. ‘Replying my enquiry,’ Dene read, ‘New York advises nothing discovered connecting deceased Priory. If no progress better return.’ The Inspector wasted no money superfluously on cable tolls. The deceased, of course, was Rontz: Priory, the Oldholme Priory robbery, Dene wagged his head sagely: Uncle George did not let the grass grow under his feet. There was no r
