"Well," he went on, "I repeat to you now all that I told you that night,
and assert that all I told you was the truth."
"But how do you account for Ethelwynn being still alive?" I interrupted
quickly.
"There is an explanation of that," he declared; "one that you will
probably be told very shortly. Fortunately, the poor girl was not dead,
though I confess I was entirely deceived by the symptoms. You will
remember that the mirror remained unclouded by her breath?"
"I remember every incident, alas! only too vividly," was my slow,
distinct reply. "But," I asked very pointedly, "pray tell me, Mr. Kirk,
what was your object in calling upon me and inducing me to go to Sussex
Place?"
He thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and smiled.
"An ulterior one--as you may imagine. But one which was as much in your
interests as in ours."
"Ours!" I echoed. "You mean you and your accomplices?"
"Call them so, if you wish," he laughed. "I, unfortunately, am not in a
position to enlighten you upon the actual reason I invoked your aid."
"And your action has only brought upon me a great misfortune--bitter
despair, and the loss of the woman I loved!" I cried, dismayed.
"Ah!" he said. "You judge me a little too hastily, Mr. Holford. It is
your failing, Mr. Holford, that you are given to rushing to premature
conclusions. That is always fatal in any delicate negotiation. When
you've had my experience--that of a traveller and thorough-going
cosmopolitan--you will learn how to repress your own opinions until they
are fully and entirely corroborated."
I looked into the grey face of the clever adventurer, and there saw
craft, cunning, and an ingenuity that was superhuman. A look was in his
eyes such as I had never before seen in those of any human being.
"But I am in search of my wife!" I cried frantically. "I am in no mood
to hear this philosophy of yours."
"Well--how do you know she is not here--in London?" he asked, waving his
thin hand towards the window where showed the glimmering lights of the
Thames bank.
To the right, where I stood, I could see the gleam of electric light
from the summit of Big Ben, showing that the House, which had assembled
only a few days before, was sitting late after the Christmas recess.
"I suppose you wish to mislead me into the idea that she is back again
in London, hiding from me, eh?" I exclaimed resentfully. "No, Mr.
Kirk, I tell you plainly that I've had enough of this tragic comedy of
yours, I've watched you this evening with your precious friends, Flynn
and Langton."
"And, pray, why should I not possess friends?" he asked, looking at me
with some surprise.
"To me Langton denied all knowledge of you."
"Well--and am I to be blamed for Langton's pretended ignorance?"
"No; but it shows me that you are not dealing with me in a
straightforward manner!" I declared, without mincing words.
But the strange old fellow only laughed. "My dear sir," he said a few
moments afterwards, "I can quite understand your distrust of me,
therefore it is as well that I hesitated to place a further confidence
in you. You might have betrayed it."
"Betrayed it!" I echoed angrily. "Have you not betrayed me? Is it not
due to you, and you alone, that my wife is missing?"
"That I emphatically deny, my dear sir," he replied, still quite
unperturbed. "But why let us discuss it? Any denial of mine you'll
regard as false. It's a great pity that my judgment led me to seek your
aid. Had you carried out my request and refrained from prying into
matters which did not concern you, you might have found it to your
distinct advantage."
"You mean that I should have profited pecuniarily by concealing the fact
that Professor Greer is dead and that an impostor has assumed his
identity? You intended that I also should be an accomplice of the
assassin!"
"No--not exactly," he replied with an evil, triumphant grin. "But,
really, my dear sir," he added, "I've had a very long journey, and I'm
tired. Is it any use prolonging this argument?"
"Not unless you wish!" I snapped. "I have given you full warning of my
intention to reveal the whole affair to the police."
"Ah! Then that will be very unfortunate--for you," replied the queer
old man; "and for your wife most of all."
"Yes, I know. You intend to bring disaster upon me and upon her if I
dare to go to Scotland Yard!" I cried.
In my ignorance of the truth I believed my threats would be of avail.
Ah, had I but known the actual facts, how differently would I have
acted! But surely that enigma was one that was beyond human power to
elucidate. Upon every hand I found complications. Plot lay within
plot--all directed against myself and against poor innocent Mabel, who
had flown to me on receipt of what she had believed to be my urgent
telegram.
"My intentions, Mr. Holford, entirely depend upon your actions," said
Kirk, very plainly. "If you are foolish--well, then I cannot guarantee
the safety of your wife. My advice to you, however, is to recall all I
told you, believe in the truth of my statements, and act with slow
discretion."
"But my wife?" I cried. "I must--I will save her. She is in peril, I
am sure of that!"
"She may be in grave peril if you go to the police," he said
enigmatically; "and, believe me, they cannot assist us in the least to
discover who killed Professor Greer."
"Why?"
Kirk hesitated. In that pause I scented an intention further to prevent
me from speaking.
"Well, regard the matter calmly and without prejudice," he said at last.
"As a matter of fact, what evidence is there that the Professor is
dead?"
"Evidence!" I cried. "Why, did not you and I see him dead? Did not
his daughter stand before his lifeless body?"
"Ah, she would never tell what she saw!" he said, with a mysterious
smile.
"Why not?" I asked, much surprised at his remark.
But my mysterious neighbour only shrugged his shoulders vaguely,
answering:
"There is a reason why she will never admit his death--a strong reason."
"Well," I said, "I recovered from the ashes of the furnace certain
remains--coat buttons and other scraps of clothing."
"And you think they would be accepted as evidence that Professor Greer
was done to death?" he laughed. "You are evidently unaware of the great
caution exercised by the Criminal Investigation Department in accepting
any evidence such as that which you could furnish. No," he added, "only
Antonio and Ethelwynn were the actual witnesses, in addition to
ourselves, of the Professor's tragic end. And as they refuse to admit
that he is dead, any information you may lodge at Scotland Yard must
only reflect upon yourself and bring greater peril upon Mrs. Holford. I
simply tell you the truth--believe me, or believe me not."
"Well," I exclaimed, "I disbelieve you, Mr. Kirk."
"Then I wish you good evening!" he exclaimed abruptly. "Act as you
think proper!" he added defiantly, as, turning from me in disregard he
walked to his large writing-table, where he took up some letters, at the
same time singing, with that careless cosmopolitan air of his, Lucien
Fugere's popular _chanson_, which at the moment one heard everywhere in
the streets of Paris.
"Then that's your last word, eh, Mr. Kirk?"