“That question may soon be answered,” said Brett.

“Was that one of the other reasons you hinted at in the library when telling us why you did not volunteer evidence at the trial?” he asked Robert.

“It was.  The cat is out of the bag now.  I did not know where the affair might end, so I held my tongue.  It also accounts for my unwillingness to meet Capella.  I am very fond of Margaret.  She is straight as a die, and I would not do anything to cause her suffering.  In a word, I let sleeping dogs lie.  If you can manage your matrimonial affairs without all this fuss, Davie, I should advise you to do the same.”

“What are you hinting at?  What new mystery is this?” cried Hume.

“Let us keep to solid fact for the present,” interposed the barrister.  “I wish I had met you sooner, Mr. Frazer.  I would be nearing Naples now, instead of entering Stowmarket Have you any further information?”

“None whatever.  Even what I have told you is the recollection of a boy who did not understand what the row was about.  Where does it lead us, anyhow?  What is known about Capella?”

“Very little.  Unless I am much mistaken, he will soon tell us a good deal himself.  I am beginning to credit him with the possession of more brains and powers of malice than I was at first inclined to admit.  He is a dangerous customer.”

“Look here,” exclaimed Robert angrily.  “If that wretched little Italian annoys Margaret in any way I will crack his doll’s head.”

They reached the hotel, where a room was obtained for Frazer, and David undertook to equip him out of his portmanteau.  Brett left the cousins to arrange matters, and hurried to his sitting-room, where a number of telegrams awaited him.

Those from Hume he barely glanced at.  David could tell his own story.

There were three from Winter.  The first, despatched at 1.10 p.m., read: 

    “Capella and valet left by club train.  Nothing doing Japanese.”

The second was timed 4.30 p.m.: 

“Jap, accompanied by tall, fat man, left home 2.45.  They separated Piccadilly Circus.  Followed Jap—­("Oh, Winter!” groaned Brett)—­and saw him enter British Museum.  Four o’clock he met fat man again outside Tottenham Court Road Tube Station.  They drove west in hansom.  Heard address given.  Am wiring before going same place.”

This telegram had been handed in at an Oxford Street office.

The third, 7.30., p.m.: 

    “Nothing important.  All quiet.  Wiring before your local office
    closes.”

The facetious Winter had signed these messages “Snow.”

Brett promptly wrote a telegram to the detective’s private address: 

    “Your signature should have been ‘Frost.’  If that fat man turns up
    again follow him.  Call on Jap and endeavour to see his wife.  You
    may be sadder but wiser.  Meet me Victoria Street, 5 p.m. to-day.”