Here was the whole affair in danger of being exposed to the police and
public by this young man's encounter with the Professor's servant! If
it were exposed, then I should be compelled to give some account of
myself. It would certainly be difficult to convince the police that I
had no knowledge of the Professor's death.
"Well," I remarked, "that Antonio should be leaving Calais seems
somewhat curious, but perhaps it may have only been somebody resembling
him."
"Of course, I'm not quite sure," the young man replied; "but is it not
curious that Miss Greer and the servants are all out? The Professor is
always so very careful of his experiments and the contents of his
laboratory that the house is never left untenanted."
"I've called quite by chance and upon business," I explained. "I'm a
motor-car engineer, and I live in Chiswick. My name is Holford."
"Mine's Langton--Leonard Langton," he answered. Then, after a second's
hesitation, he added, "Ethelwynn--Miss Greer--is to become my wife.
That's why I'm surprised that she hasn't kept the appointment I made."
I was silent. What if I told him of the girl's mysterious death? What
would he say? How would he act?
He seemed a smart, active, well-set-up fellow, quick, energetic, with a
pair of merry grey eyes and a good-natured smile. Indeed, I took to him
from the first. Yet how dare I divulge a word of what I knew?
"The only thing is to wait," I suggested.
"But if the Professor is in Scotland, as you say, why have you called
this evening?" he asked, with some little suspicion, I thought.
For the moment I was nonplussed.
"I wondered whether he had returned," was my rather lame reply. "I
simply called on the off-chance of seeing him."
"Was your business of a pressing nature?" he asked, still wondering, I
think, whether I might not have some connection with thieves who might
be within. Perhaps he now suspected me of being an accomplice, set to
watch outside. My hesitation when he suggested calling the police had
no doubt aroused his suspicion. Besides, I suppose my agitation had
caused him some surprise, for I was in deadly fear lest the police
should be called, and should enter there.
The dead girl's lover was a man of strongly marked character, that I
could see. When once he learned the truth I should surely be suspected
of having secret knowledge of the crime!
"Well?" he asked, as we still stood before the closed door, "what shall
we do?"
"Wait," I again suggested, "the Professor is evidently still away. He
may have sent Antonio across to the Continent upon some business."
"If so, then there are undoubtedly thieves within. Since I've been
waiting here the light in the small drawing-room overlooking the Park
has been extinguished--put out, no doubt, immediately I rang. No," he
went on, "we must call the police. Will you go and get a constable--or
shall I?"
"You go," I said, in a blank voice. "I--I'll wait here."
I saw that the game was up. His suspicions were aroused, and he
intended to take immediate action.
"There's sure to be a policeman along at Clarence Gate," he said; "I've
often noticed a man on point-duty there. But," he added, suddenly
facing me and looking straight into my eyes, for the street-lamp shone
brightly upon the spot where we were standing, "tell me, Mr. Holford,
have you told me the actual truth?"
"The truth!" I echoed. "Why, of course I have! Here is my card," and
I gave him one from my cigarette-case, wherein I always carried them.
He read it eagerly, and in exchange gave me one of his, laughing as he
said:
"I feared, perhaps, that you might be in association with the men
inside. Forgive me for suspecting you, won't you?"
"Of course. I knew you doubted me," I answered, smiling. "I'll remain
here until you return, though, to be frank, I don't see very much cause
for alarm."
"I do. There's a mystery here--one which we must fathom. Keep watch.
I'll be back in a few moments."
And he left the steps and, turning to the left, disappeared round the
corner.
I stood outside the door, my ears strained to catch the slightest sound.
The young man's presence there was indeed an unfortunate contretemps.
In the silence I could hear my own heart thumping. Of a sudden,
however, I thought I could detect a sound of movement within. I
listened attentively. Yes, I was not mistaken, someone was actually in
the hall! What if it were the unknown assassin, returned to the scene
of his crime?
My heart-beats quickened. The dead girl's lover had not been mistaken.
The lights had been put out when the person or persons inside were
disturbed by his ring. In a few moments he would be there with the
police, and the crime would be properly investigated. But what account
could I myself give of the reason of my call? If I were suspected, the
police might inquire into my movements during the past few days and gain
knowledge of my visits there!
My position was growing to one of great seriousness. Every moment
increased my peril.
Across the narrow road rose the great blank wall of a mews, while in the
room on the first floor above where showed the high, dark window
stretching across nearly the whole frontage of the house, lay huddled, I
knew, the body of the dead Professor.
I was still listening, full of wonder as to who might be lurking in that
house of death, when, of a sudden, I heard the latch touched, and slowly
and silently the big door opened.
I drew back, prepared for a fight, but next second a cry of amazement
escaped my lips when I saw in the darkness of the cautiously-opened door
a man's face--the thin, sallow, frightened face of Kershaw Kirk.
"It's I, Holford!" he gasped. "I must get away. Langton must not see
me. Remember you must not breathe a single word of your knowledge of
myself! Success now depends entirely upon your silence. I will wire an
appointment with you to-morrow. Be careful, or you yourself may now be
suspected."
"But why not tell the police?" I demanded, barring his way.
"Police be hanged!" he cried impatiently. "Have I not already told you?
I have no time to argue. Langton must not see me--he must know nothing
of me. A word from you would mean loss incalculable, and all hope of
elucidating the mystery would instantly be at an end. Which way did
young Langton go?"
"Towards Clarence Gate," I replied almost mechanically, for his sudden
appearance there had startled me.
"Good!" he cried; "then I'll go in the opposite direction. Be silent,
Holford, and rely upon me. Whatever you may discover, do not betray any
surprise. In this affair you will probably meet with a good deal that
will surprise you--as it has already surprised me."
"Where's Antonio?" I demanded.
"Gone."
"Abroad?"
"I--well, how can I tell? He's left here. That's all I know," replied
this mysterious man very lamely.