Clue of the Artificial Eye

“What can I do for you, Mr. Campenhaye?” he asked, with a little tremor as of anxiety in his voice. “It’s not—not, I hope, about poor Mr. James?” “That, Mr. Armstead, is precisely what it is,” I answered. “Now, remember, we speak together in the strictest secrecy?” “Oh, yes, yes, sir—of course!” he exclaimed. “I understand. But—what can I tell you, Mr. Campenhaye?” I drew out the little leather-co...