“Before we go any farther,” he went on, “perhaps I had better identify myself—to save any further misunderstandings, don’t you know? Do either of you gentlemen happen to know a party called Dulkinghorn? You may have heard of him, Mr. Greve, for I can see you have been in the army ...” “Not Ernest Dulkinghorn, of the War Office?” asked Robin. “The identical party!” “I never met him,” said Robin. “But I was at the War Office for a bit before I was demobilized and I heard fellows speak of him. Counter-espionage, isn’t he?” “That’s right,” nodded Herr Schulz. “You can read his letter to me introducing Miss Trevert.” He handed a sheet of paper to Robin. DEAR SCHULZ [it ran], Victor Marbran’s push appear to be connected with Hartley Parrish, who has just met his death under suspicious circumstances. You will have read about it in the English papers. Miss Trevert was engaged to H.P. and has a letter from Elias van der Spyck and Company which she found on Parrish’s desk after his death. I should say that the Marbran-Parrish connection would repay investigation. Yours E. DULKINGHORN P.S. The letter is, of course, in conventional code. P.P.S. Don’t frighten the life out of the Trevert girl, you unsympathetic brute! Robin read the letter through to the end. “Then Mary Trevert has this letter from Rotterdam which we have been hunting for!” he cried. “Have you seen it?” Herr Schulz shook his head. “Miss Trevert called here this morning,” he said, “when I was out. She gave her letter to Frau Wirth, my housekeeper, with her card and address. Frau Wirth was cleaning the plate on the front door and, a moment after Miss Trevert had gone, a fellow appeared and said he was a friend of Miss Trevert who had made a mistake and left the wrong letter. My housekeeper is well trained and wouldn’t give the letter up. But she made the fatal mistake of telling the fellow exactly what he wanted to know, and that was who the letter was addressed to. ‘The letter is addressed to Herr Schulz,’ said this excellent woman, ‘and if there’s any mistake he will find it out when he opens it.’ And with that she told him to clear out. Which, having got all he wanted, he was glad enough to do!” “What was this chap like?” asked Robin. The big man shrugged his shoulders. “I can teach my servants discretion,” he replied whimsically, “but I can’t teach ’em to use their eyes. Frau Wirth could remember nothing about this fellow except that he wasn’t tall and wore a brown overcoat ...” “Jeekes!” cried Robin, slapping his thigh. “He must have been actually coming away from your place when I met him ...” “And who,” asked the big man, reflectively contemplating the amber fluid in his glass, “who is Jeekes?”