Perplexed, Alan fled the club, pausing by force of habit only long enough to consult the letter-rack and annex an envelope he found there addressed to him.
It was a white envelope of good quality. The address was typewritten, the stamp English, with a London postmark, half illegible.
Mr. Law tore the envelope open in an absent-minded fashion, and started as if stung. The inclosure was a simple playing card—a Trey of Hearts!
In the writing-room Mr. Marrophat continued to compose. The mental exertion caused him to breathe rather heavily. His colourless thick lips were compressed as if to restrain his tongue from aping the antics of his pen. His starting eyes followed the ink scratches on the telegraph blank with a look of mildly anguished surprise.
In point of fact, he wasn't writing; he was laboriously printing the following words:
"Senex, New York—Rose uttered 3:58 p. m. Trey followed. A. much disturbed. M. P. T."
When he had finished, Mr. Marrophat waved the blank to and fro until the ink was dry. This was not for want of a blotter, but because blotters have been known to reveal secrets when read in a mirror.
