"Perhaps--just a little."
"Yet you desire that I should still trust you implicitly, that I should
give myself into your hands blindly and unreservedly--you, who lead this
dual existence! In Whitehall Court you are a wealthy man of leisure,
while here you pose as shabby and needy."
"I may be shabby, Mr. Holford, for certain purposes--but needy never! I
have, I'm thankful to say, quite sufficient for my wants," he exclaimed,
correcting me. "And as for my dual existence, as you term it, have I
ever endeavoured to conceal it from you?"
"Tell me--once and for all--are you aware of my wife's whereabouts?" I
demanded in frantic anxiety. "Can't you see that this suspense is
turning my brain?"
"Yes, it is very unfortunate--and still more unfortunate that I can
afford you no satisfaction. The fact of Mrs. Holford's prolonged
absence is as great a mystery to me as to yourself."
"Scotland Yard will render me no help," I said in bitter chagrin.
"Probably not--after the amazing story you told them," was his rather
spiteful response.
"What am I to do?"
"Remain patient and watchful," he said. "Believe in me, and try and
persuade yourself that, after all, I'm not an assassin," he smiled.
I held my breath for a few seconds. Here was the crux of the whole
matter. He was still cleverly and ingeniously endeavouring to lead me
into a false sense of security--to make me believe that he was innocent
of all knowledge of that most astounding tragedy in Sussex Place.
Ah! his was indeed a clever ruse. But my eyes were now opened, so I
only smiled within myself at the futility of his crafty and clever
attempt further to mislead and cheat me.
A man was with my wife, passing himself off as myself--Henry Holford,
motor engineer. And yet I could look to no one for counsel, advice, or
aid!
Now that the police had refused to inquire into the death of poor Greer,
the attitude of my weird, grey-faced neighbour had become more defiant.
He was full of bitter reproaches, yet at the same time entirely heedless
of my future actions.
Once or twice while speaking to me he turned, as was his habit, to
Joseph the parrot, addressing asides to his pet, causing the bird to
screech noisily, grow excited, and make idiotic responses.
"Mark me, Mr. Holford," he said at length, "you did a most foolish thing
to betray me to Scotland Yard. In you I'm most disappointed, I assure
you. My confidence was misplaced."
"I understand you've been to my garage and in my absence purchased an
Eckhardt tyre," I remarked.
"Well?" he said, opening his eyes slightly. "I only came down to see
you, but when I found you absent I bought a tyre as an excuse."
"And you expect me to believe that, eh?" I asked, with a dry laugh.
"You can believe it or not believe it, just as you think fit," was his
quick reply. "I have no use for motor-tyres, not possessing a car."
I grinned in disbelief, recollecting the air of secrecy with which he
had examined the tyre on the first occasion he had called upon me, and
also the effect produced upon him later when I told him of the two other
men who had called to inspect the tyre.
I think I remained with him for nearly an hour. Then, after he had told
me that his intention was to stay in England, at least for the present,
I left him and walked back to my desolate home, where, Gwen having
retired, I sat for a further hour in my den, deeply thinking.
That Kirk was in some secret way in association with the bogus Professor
was plain. Was it not, then, more than likely that they would ere long
meet again? If I kept a wary eye upon him, I might, I saw, discover
something of great interest.
Who could this man be who led a dual existence for no apparent cause;
this man who was narrow-minded and penurious in Bedford Park, yet was
wealthy and open-handed in Whitehall Court?
As I calmly reviewed the whole extraordinary situation I saw that, in
turn, I mistrusted the whole of the actors in that bewildering drama.
Ethelwynn, the calm, sweet, clear-eyed girl, so content in her great
love for Leonard Langton, though she had actually witnessed her father
lying dead and cold, yet now refused to presume his death! Why? Doctor
Flynn I disliked instinctively; Langton was evidently playing a double
game, having denied all knowledge of Kirk, whereas the latter was his
friend; Antonio and Pietro were away; while Kirk himself, silent and
cunning, was pretending a complete ignorance which was only ill-feigned.
And the most important point of all was that not a breath of suspicion
of the Professor's death had yet leaked out to the public.
Thus, utterly bewildered, I again retired to rest.
Early astir next morning, I set watch upon Kirk's movements, assisted by
Dick Drake, my clean-shaven, bullet-headed chauffeur. A few moments
before eleven he came forth, thinly clad and shabby, as he generally
appeared in Chiswick, and, walking to Ravenscourt Park Station, took a
third-class ticket to Westminster, whence he walked to a rather grimy
house situate in Page Street, a poor neighbourhood lying behind the
Abbey. There he remained for some time, after which, fearing lest he
should recognise me, I directed Drake to follow him, and returned to the
garage.
At six that evening my man returned, tired and hungry, reporting that
Kirk had gone to a house in Foley Street, Tottenham Court Road, the
number of which he gave me, and after ten minutes there he had eaten his
luncheon at a bar in Oxford Street. Then he had taken train from
Holborn Viaduct to Shortlands, near Bromley, where he had made a call at
a small villa residence not far from the station.
The door of the house had been opened by a tall, thin man in a dark blue
jersey, who, he said, had the appearance of a foreigner, and Kirk had
stayed inside for nearly two hours. When at last he came out, the tall
man had walked with him to the station, and bade him adieu on the
platform.
"But," added Drake, "that gentleman's a pretty 'cute one, sir. He
spotted me."
"H'm, that's unfortunate," I said. "You were a bit too bold, I fear."
Of course I had told him nothing of the reason why I was watching the
man who had evinced such interest in the Eckhardt tyre.
"I exercised all the caution possible," Drake declared, "but he doubled
back upon me down at Shortlands and thus tricked me. He didn't say
anything, but only laughed in my face."
The story of the foreigner at the villa at Shortlands struck me as
somewhat remarkable, and I resolved to go there on the morrow and
investigate. I now held all Kershaw Kirk's movements in suspicion.
Next day I rose with the fixed intention of going at once down to
Shortlands, that district of suburban villadom, but hardly had I risen
from the table where I had breakfasted in silence with Gwen, when
something occurred to turn the tide of events into an entirely different
channel.
Indeed, by that sudden and unexpected occurrence I knew that I had at
last advanced one step towards the knowledge of who killed Professor
Greer behind those locked doors in Sussex Place.