Now, Bigglesforth had a
very good one for which he'd no use, and he at once sold it to Cortelyon.
Bigglesforth didn't mention the matter to his customer, for the machine
was perfect in all other respects, but one of the letters was
defective--broken. That was the same letter, Mr. Viner, which was
defective in the document which Cave showed to you gentlemen and spoke of
previously in court!"
"Extraordinary!" muttered Viner. "What a piece of luck!"
"No, sir!" said Drillford, stoutly. "No luck at all--just a bit of good
common-sense thinking on the part of a shrewd woman. But you'll want to
know what we did. I was so absolutely certain of the truth of Miss
Penkridge's theory that I immediately made preparations for a descent on
Cortelyon's house. I got a number of our best men--detectives, of
course--and we went round to Markendale Square, back and front. Inquiry
showed that Cortelyon was out, but we'd scarcely got that fact
ascertained when he drove up in a taxicab with Cave himself. They
hurriedly entered the house--I myself was watching from a good point of
vantage, and I saw that both men were, to say the least, anxious and
excited.
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