As we spoke, Antonio entered, and handed his master a note, which, on
reading, he handed in turn to Kirk.
"You'll go, I suppose?" he asked the Professor.
"I think so," was Greer's reply. "I'll cross to-night. But if I go, I
must first run into the City to see Meyrick," and he glanced at his
watch, exclaiming, "By Jove! I must be off!" Then, turning to Antonio,
he ordered a taxi.
"I hope, Mr. Holford," he said, turning to me, "I hope that I've now
convinced you that I'm no impostor, and that I am actually Professor
Ernest Greer in the flesh."
"You have," I admitted; "there are, however, several points which are
not yet clear to me."
"My good friend Kirk, here, will make them clear, I'm sure," he said.
"The only service I beg of you is that of complete and absolute silence.
It was the German's life or mine. He attacked me murderously with a
knife, and what I did was--God knows!--only in self-defence. Yet--yet
the public must know nothing. It is for fear of you, that you might
learn the truth and expose the affair to the Press, that I have lived in
perpetual anxiety, travelling constantly from place to place, in the
hope that you would still regard me as the impostor. While you believed
that, I had nothing to fear. My daughter has, indeed, threatened to
commit suicide if the public are told that I killed the man who tried to
steal my secret. To her, your silence means love and life!"
"Yes, Mr. Holford," declared the girl anxiously; "Leonard does not know
the truth. If he did, he would surely discard me as the daughter of a
murderer. Indeed, I could never again hold up my head. I believe
implicitly in my dear father's version of the affair--yet his enemies
surely would not! Will you, at least, give me your promise?" she
implored.