“Only one, sir, so far as I know,” the woman replied. “You’re quite sure of that?” “Quite sure, sir, and why I happen to be so certain is that it caused a bit of unpleasantness between them. I was brushing the stairs just out there, when the letter arrived. It was Mrs. Onslow that took it in, and when she saw the post-mark she asked him who it was that he knew at Richmond. He snatched the letter from her and told her to mind her own business. That afternoon he went out and never came back. It’s my belief it was some woman at Richmond as enticed him away.” “Have you any other reason for supposing that except the post-mark on the envelope?” “Well, sir,” returned the woman, “to be candid with you, I have, though perhaps it’s a tale I shouldn’t tell. I was so sorry for that poor young thing that I couldn’t get her trouble out of my head, and nothing would serve but that I must watch him. I saw him sitting down at the head of the table where you are now, sir, about half-an-hour after he had spoken so cross to his wife, and she, poor dear, was upstairs crying, and I noticed that he was writing a telegram. Presently he calls to me. ‘Mrs. Raikes,’ said he, ‘want to send a telegram at once, who can take it for me?’ ‘There’s Mrs. Hawkins’s little boy next door, sir,’ says I, ‘he’s taken messages for gentlemen I’ve had in the house before now, and always done it very well. I saw him playing in the field at the back of the house only this minute.’ ‘Call him in to me, then,’ says he, ‘and he shall have sixpence for his trouble.’ I called the lad in, and Mr. Onslow gave him the message, and then off he went with it, but not so fast but that I was able to run across to the corner of the field at the back there, and catch him on the road. ‘Tommy,’ I said, ‘let me have a look at that telegram.’ He was a good little boy, and handed it over to me without a word. It was addressed to ‘Montgomery, 13 Bridgeworth Road, Richmond.’ There was no other name to it, and the only other word was ‘yes.’ It didn’t seem to me that there was anything out of the common about it, and so I thought no more of it, until you spoke of his having letters just now.” “I think I’ll make a note of the address in case it should be useful,” said Burrell. “And now I’ll be off, thanking you again, Mrs. Raikes, for the information you have given me.” On leaving the cottage he walked back to Staines, caught a train to London, and hastened to his house. Later on he made his way to Euston Station. Another twenty hours elapsed before he was able to acquire the information he wanted there--but he had the satisfaction of knowing, when he had obtained it, that there remained now only one link to be forged, and then the chain of evidence would be complete. That link was forged at Richmond, and next day he handed in his report to the astonished Codey. “Good heavens, Burrell,” said that astute gentleman, “this is as marvellous as it is horrible. What do you think?”