Chapter Thirteen
The inspector held out a telegram.
‘Where did you get that?’ I asked, when I finally found my voice.
‘From that drawer,’ he replied.
‘You shouldn’t look through people’s private things,’ I said, rather lamely.
He gave a small smile.
‘I’m afraid it is a regrettable part of my job,’ he said.
‘I gather you’ve read it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it contains all the information you require and I have no more to say on the matter,’ I said with emphasis and made as if to leave.
‘Oh, come now, Mr. Knox,’ said Jameson. ‘I have here in my hand a telegram from Sir Neville’s agent in South Africa, bringing to Sir Neville’s attention the fact that, three years ago, a Mr. Charles Knox was tried for the murder of one Franklin Watson of Johannesburg. I myself am investigating a murder, so na
