“Fortunately the envelope in which this one came had been kept. The counter was wrapped up in a piece of cheap writing paper, and put in a square envelope of the same quality. The address was typewritten. Our people at the Yard are trying to trace the machine it was done with. I wish them joy of the job. They can tell the make all right; but there must be thousands of them scattered through London.”

“If you don’t mind my suggesting it, it doesn’t follow that because Mr. Pargent received a counter he was murdered by the same hand that killed Mr. Tovey or Mr. Colburn,” said the herbalist quietly.

Inspector Whyland glanced at him quickly. “No, it doesn’t exactly follow,” he agreed. “But we’ll return to that later. I want to show you something else first. Look here.”