It was an octavo sheet of memorandum paper with the firm’s name printed on the top, and bore the following typewritten letter:
“20th November.
“H. A. Schoofs, Esq.
“I should be obliged if you would please ask Mr. Vanderkemp to come over and see me here at 10:00 a.m. on Wednesday, 26th inst., as I wish him to undertake negotiations for a fresh purchase. He may have to go to Stockholm at short notice.”
The note was signed “R. A. Duke,” with the attendant flourish with which French had grown familiar.
He sat staring at the sheet of paper, trying to fit this new discovery into the scheme of things. But it seemed to him an insoluble puzzle. Was Mr. Duke not really the innocent, kindly old gentleman he had fancied, but rather a member, if not the author, of some deep-seated conspiracy? If h
