name came out.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"Mrs. Lester wrote to an aunt in Oxfordshire, a lady who lives in the
village of Iffley, near the first lock on the Thames below Oxford. As
it happened, this aunt, a Miss Beale, was lunching with a friend in
Oxford today, and some one showed her an early edition of a London
evening newspaper containing an account of the murder. Instead of
yielding to hysteria, and passing from one fainting fit into another,
Miss Beale had the rare good sense to go straight to the police
station. One of our men has interviewed her this evening, and she is
coming here tomorrow, but in the meantime the Oxford police telephoned
the gist of the letter, which is headed 'Monday, 11:30 p. m.' The hour
is not quite accurate, but near enough, since the context shows that a
'friend' had just called and given certain information which had
determined the writer to leave London 'to-morrow'-- meaning today--
'or Wednesday at latest.' So you see, Mr. Theydon, if the unknown is
an honest man, he will soon hear of the hue and cry raised by the
murder, and declare himself to the police. Indeed, for all I know, he
may have reported himself to the Yard already. In that event you will
probably meet him again quite soon."

An electric bell jarred at the end of the main passage. It smote on
their ears with the loud emphasis of a pistol shot. Even the
detectives were startled, and Winter said, in a tone of distinct
annoyance:

"Go and see who the deuce that is, Furneaux."