"I presume, sir," he said, "that you are an agent of police?"
"No, I'm not," I assured him, rather surprised at his remark. "I'm
simply making inquiry because--well, because my friend is now missing."
"Then I'll tell you what occurred, sir," answered the German, with a
slight accent. "The gentleman came in about four o'clock and asked me
to shave him. When I began to put on the soap I realised, however, that
he had himself been cutting off his beard closely. But I shaved him,
and made no comment. We hairdressers are used to such things, yet they
sometimes cause us a little wonder."
"Ah!" I cried. "Then he left here with his beard shaven clean! He
intended to disguise himself!"
"No doubt, sir," replied the man, who seemed a particularly intelligent
fellow. "Because, earlier in the day, while crossing the corridor, I
had noticed him standing near the lift. He then had a full beard. I
recollected the clothes he was wearing."
"Did he talk to you?"
"Very little, sir. He seemed a gloomy, rather silent man."
That was all he could tell me, though he declared that the gentleman had
seemed very agitated and upset while he was being shaved. His hair was
also cut, and his moustache trimmed.
"Did it alter his appearance much?" I inquired. "Very greatly, sir. I
should scarcely have known him when he left here."
"And you told nobody?"
"It is not my business to pry into customers' affairs," responded the
man, and very justly; "but I took good note of his countenance."
What he told me was certainly remarkable. The whole of the facts were,
indeed, astounding.
While the unfortunate Professor lay dead in his laboratory in London he
was, at the same time, here, in Edinburgh, making an attempt at
disguise, and sending a reassuring telegram to his daughter!
That Professor Greer had been killed there was not the slightest doubt--
killed, too, behind locked doors, in circumstances which themselves
formed a complete and inscrutable mystery. Then, if so, who was this
man who had left London with the Professor's luggage, had arrived in
Edinburgh, and whom the hotel-servants and others had identified by his
portrait?
If he were not the Professor, then who could he have been? One thing
was certain, he could not have been the actual assassin. Yet if not,
why had he taken such pains to disguise his appearance?
The theory of Greer having a double I put aside at once. Doubles only
exist in the realms of fiction. Here, however, I was dealing with hard,
solid facts.
Each phase of the intricate problem became more and more complicated as
I endeavoured to analyse it. That grey, wintry afternoon I wandered
about the damp streets of Edinburgh, gazing aimlessly in the shop
windows, and afterwards sat for a full hour upon a seat in the deserted
public gardens below the Castle, thinking and wondering until the gloomy
twilight began to creep on, and the lights along Princes Street
commenced to glimmer.
Then, rising, I set off again across the North Bridge, and through High
Street and Johnstone Terrace to the Caledonian Station, and by George
Street and St. Andrew's Street back to the Waverley, a tour of the
centre of the city. I was merely killing time, for I had decided to
take the night express back to King's Cross.
When I re-entered the hotel it was nearly seven o'clock, and, as I did
so, the porter at the revolving door in Princes Street touched his cap
and informed me that the hairdresser desired to see me again.
I ascended to the first floor, and entered the saloon, where I found the
German with whom before luncheon I had spoken. He was seated alone,
reading a newspaper.
"Ach, sir!" he exclaimed; "I thought perhaps you had left! I'm very
glad you are still here! A most curious circumstance occurred this
afternoon when I went off duty as usual from three till five. I live in
Forth Street, at the back of the Theatre Royal, and while walking
towards home along Broughton Street, I came face to face with the
gentleman for whom you are searching."
"You've seen him!" I gasped, half inclined to disbelieve the man's
story, for he was evidently on the look-out for a substantial tip.
"Yes, he recognised me, and tried to avert his face. But I managed to
get a good look at him, and am absolutely certain that I'm not mistaken.
He was dressed differently, and looks many years younger than when I
first saw him wearing his beard."
"Then he is still in hiding here!" I gasped quickly. "Did you follow
him?"
"I did. I had to exercise considerable caution, for he evidently fears
that he is being traced. His attitude was essentially that of a man
dreading recognition. He may be suspicious that you are here, sir."
"But have you discovered where he is living?" I demanded breathlessly,
my heart leaping.
"Yes, sir," replied the German; "I have."