I suppose it ought to have been obvious from the first that an attempt might be made to poison Satan, but somehow or other the possibility had never entered my mind. The dastardly act had come on me as a complete surprise, and in the first rush of anger and indignation I found it difficult to collect my thoughts. That Bascomb was right in his suspicions, however, I felt convinced, though I had no more evidence than he had in support of my belief. There was a cold-blooded ruthlessness about the whole thing which pointed clearly to Manning, and such a passion of hatred for him swept through me that for a moment I felt almost stifled. What new threat, I asked myself, lurked behind this apparently wanton piece of spite? It was utterly unlike Manning to show his hand so clearly, unless driven to it by the most urgent reasons. He must have realised that, however easily deceived I might be, Bascomb would at once pitch on him as the author of the crime, I might or might not accept the latter's opinion, but it was at least probable that my suspicions would be aroused and that I should take prompt steps to try and find out the truth. That he would run such a risk through sheer malice was a thing that I declined to believe. It was much more likely that he was fixing up some new and devilish plan, in which the removal of Satan was the first and perhaps the most essential step. Now that this was accomplished he was not likely to waste time, for every hour that he delayed would only add to the danger of discovery. I felt that I must act, and act quickly, but what the deuce I ought to do was another and more baffling question. In my perplexity I suddenly remembered Bobby. A letter to Harwich would reach him first post in the morning, and unless he was up to his neck in work he would probably be with me by mid-day. I didn't want to bother him unnecessarily, but things seemed to be approaching a crisis, and if that were the case his advice and help would b& simply invaluable. I jumped up from my chair with the intention of writing him a note at once. As I turned towards the desk, my eyes fell upon a letter which was lying on the further side of the centre table. Even at that distance I recognised Christine's hand, and at the same instant the recollection of my talk with Jimmy rushed back into my mind. In a second I had crossed the room and picked up the envelope. Carrying it to the window, I tore open the flap, and with feverish haste pulled out its contents. There was a single sheet of notepaper, closely covered on both sides with small but very legible writing. "I know that you have gone to London, but I am not sure how long you intend to stay, or when you will get this letter. Anyhow, it will be waiting for you as soon as you reach the house.