The Wrong Letter

I

The Crime

The telephone bell rang on the table of Superintendent Sinclair at Scotland Yard. He was a busy man, and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed except on matters important.

Putting down a paper he had been reading, he picked up the receiver. A woman’s voice spoke.

“Is that Scotland Yard?”

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently, “Superintendent Sinclair speaking, what is it?”