"It is not," was the whispered reply. "It is a letter, written by the
greatest man in one of the greatest countries in the world, to the greatest
personage in Europe. There is a secret reward offered of half a million
dollars for the return of that letter alone."
"The affair seems worth looking into," Brightman remarked, stroking his
little black moustache.
"I can promise you that the governments on both sides will pay handsomely,"
Crawshay assured him. "I have had my chance but let it slip. You know I had
my training at Scotland Yard, but out in the States I found that I simply
had to forget all that I knew. Their methods are entirely different from
ours, and you see what a failure I have made of it. I have let them get
away with the papers under my very nose."
"I can't see that you were very much to blame, Mr. Crawshay," the detective
observed. "It was a unique trick, and very cleverly worked out."
They had turned off the main thoroughfare and were now brought to a
standstill in the courtyard leading to the Savoy. Suddenly Crawshay gripped
his companion by the arm and directed his attention to a man who was buying
some roses in the florist's shop.
"You see that man?" he said. "Watch him carefully. I'll tell you why when
we get inside.
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