“Why not go to him?  We’ll wait.  We can do nothing more tonight after leaving here.”

“Speaking candidly, I am not in a mood to discuss such visionary projects.  I shall be glad if Mr. Forbes has gone to bed when I do ring him up.”

Winter shook his head.

“Excuse me, Mr. Theydon, but I am older than you, and may ’venture on advice,’” he said.  “A writer who has his way to make in the world cannot afford to slight a man of Mr. Forbes’s standing.  Go to him at once.  It will please him.  Don’t hurry.”

Theydon realized that a continued refusal would certainly set Furneaux’s wits at work, and he dreaded the outcome.  He went without another word.  When the outer door had closed behind him Winter turned to Furneaux.

“Well?” he said.

For answer Furneaux waved a hand and tiptoed into the hall.  Waiting until he heard the door of No. 18 slam he opened the latch of No. 17 so cautiously that no sound was forthcoming.  Soon he had an ear to Theydon’s letter box and was following attentively a one-sided conversation.

Now, Theydon had thought hard during the few strides from one flat to the other.  His telephone was fixed close to the party wall dividing the two sets of apartments and he was not certain that, in the absolute quietude prevailing in Innesmore Mansions at that late hour, a voice could not be overheard.  True, he did not count on Furneaux playing the eavesdropper at the slit of the letter box, but he resolved to take no risks and say nothing that any one could make capital of.

So, when he had asked the exchange to reconnect him with the caller who had just rung up, and he was put through, this is what Furneaux heard: 

“That you, Mr. Forbes.  Sorry I sent my man just now with a message that must leave sounded rather curt, but the Scotland Yard people kindly excused me, so I can give you a minute or two....  No, I’m sorry, but I cannot come to luncheon tomorrow, nor go to Brooklands again this week.  You see, this dreadful murder which I spoke of will necessitate my presence at an inquest, and the police seem to attach much significance to the visit to Mrs. Lester last night of a man whom I saw in the street, and whom Bates and I heard entering and leaving the poor lady’s flat....  Bates?  O, he is my general factotum.  He and his wife keep house for me. . . .  Yes, I’ll gladly let you know the earliest date when I’ll be free.  Then you and I can go into the flying proposition thoroughly....  No.  The detectives have apparently not got any clew to the murderer, nor even discovered any motive for the crime.  They have taken me into No. 17.  In fact, I was there when your call was made....  The murderer ransacked the place thoroughly, but did not touch money or jewelry, I understand.  The only peculiar thing, if I may so describe it, about the place, is the scent of a burnt joss stick.  It clings to the passage and the bedroom in which the body was found.. . .  Ah, by the way, Mrs. Lester