I gave it him. It was that of a small shop which received letters and telegrams for a consideration.
He struck the bell upon the table with his hand. Chichester-Pettigrew, alias Minks, answered the summons.
“This letter is to go immediately—the usual route.”
“Very well, Colonel.”
He looked at the name on the envelope. Sir Eustace was watching him keenly.
“A friend of yours, I think?”
“Of mine?”
The man seemed startled.
“You had a prolonged conversation with him in Johannesburg yesterday.”
“A man came up and questioned me about your movements and those of Colonel Race. I gave him misleading information.”
“Excellent, my dear fellow, excellent,” said Sir Eustace genially. “My mistake.”
I chanced to look at Chichester-Pettigrew as he left the room. He was white to the lips, as though in deadly terror. No sooner was he outside than Sir Eustace picked up a speaking tube that rested by his elbow and spoke down it.
“That you, Schwart? Watch Minks. He’s not to leave the house without orders.”