byURGENT. COME AT ONCE.—TREVELYAN, MOSTYN MANOR.
That was all the telegram said; and, apart from the fact that Sir Otto Trevelyan, of Mostyn Manor, in Surrey, was one of the best-known financial magnates in the City of London, that was all that Sexton Blake knew of the case when he left his rooms in Baker Street and drove to Waterloo.
It was then half-past seven in the morning. An hour later he reached Mostyn, where Sir Otto’s motor met him at the station. By a quarter to nine he was at the Hall, a fine old Tudor mansion, surrounded by an extensive park.
Sir Otto, pale and distracted, was awaiting him in the library.
“I thought you weren’t coming!” he exclaimed, seizing the detective by the hand, and dragging him into the room. “I’ve been robbed of a document worth a hundred thousand p
