CHAPTER THREE
The Man Higher Up
T
he
fragment of paper which Mr. Campion held and at which the others glanced over his shoulder was thumbed and dirty, but the message was legible enough.
“Gwen’s, London. Dear S.,—This is to give you the office. Have heard from P. that the old man is angry. We have both been on wrong track, as I thought. I am off to Fly by Night to-night. The old man’s heard of something that may give us the lead in on the doings. There is supposed to be something carved on one of the trees in the garden which will show us the light. Seems like Sweet Fanny Adams to me. Join me careful. You can leave that bunch, they know less than us.—Yours, D.”
“There you are,” said Mr. Lugg. “That’s what I call evidence. It gives it to yer in one.”
“I’m hanged if I can see it,” sai
