CHAPTER FIVE
THE FIRST STEP
Wedgwood, by this time, was in that mental condition in which any suggestion or assistance about a vexing problem is eagerly grasped at; he bade the policeman bring the caller in, and seating her in the chair which Thomas Wraypoole had just vacated, took a good look at her. She was a quietly-dressed, modest-looking young woman whom he at once set down as being of the shop-assistant or female clerk class, and she was obviously nervous at finding herself in a police-station.
"You want to see me about this Handel Street affair?" began Wedgwood. "Quite so—you can speak freely and in confidence here. You know something, eh?"
"I knew Mr. John Wraypoole," replied the visitor. "That is, slightly."
"Yes" said Wedgwood, encouragingly. "How did you come to know him?"
"I'm a waitress in the refreshment room at the British Museum," she replied. "Mr. Wraypoole used to come in there occasionally—three or four times a week. Sometimes he'd come in
