CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXThe appearance of another motorcycle had relieved the tension about Doaks to some extent; but Bull thought that he had still left a good deal to explain, and it was impossible for Bull to leave a trail until he was perfectly convinced he had come to the end of it. And he was now fully aware that he had the vaguely uneasy feeling that the two murders, of Peskett and Gates, were not necessarily done by the same hand that had shot down the St. Giles-street jeweller in cold blood.
The feeling had been struggling in his subconscious mind since the moment he saw the dead body of the chauffeur lying in front of the window in the upper room of the garage. It was different in some way. What Debenham had said was true. The murder of Peskett was not done with as fine free a hand as
