"Why are you so confoundedly glum, old man?" Dick asked. "What's your
screed about? Duns in the offing?"
"No. It's nothing," I answered evasively, smiling.
"Then don't look so down in the mouth," he urged. "Have a peg, and pull
yourself together." He had been in India, and consequently termed a
whisky-and-soda a "peg." The origin of that expression is a little
abstruse, but is supposed to refer pointedly to the pegs in one's
coffin.
I thrust the letter into my pocket, helped myself to a drink, and lit a
cigarette.
"It's a really first-class sensation," Dick said, again referring to the
curious affair. "Pity I can't publish something of it to-morrow. It's
a good thing chucked away."
"Yes," I replied. "But Patterson has some object in imposing secrecy on
us."
"Of course," he answered thoughtfully.
There was a pause. We both smoked on. Not a sound penetrated there
save the solemn ticking of the clock and the distant strains of a piano
in some man's rooms across the square.
"Do you know, Frank," my companion said after some reflection, and
looking at me with a rather curious expression--"do you know that I have
some strange misgivings?"
"Misgivings!" I echoed. "Of what?"
"Well," he said, "did anything strike you as strange in Patterson's
manner?"
"To tell the truth," I answered, "something did. His attitude was
unusual--quite unusual, to-night."
"He's a funny Johnnie. That story of the snake on the pavement--isn't
it rather too strange to be believed?"
"At first sight it appears extraordinary, but remember that in the
laboratory upstairs we found other snakes. The occupier of the house
evidently went in for the reptiles as pets."
"I quite agree with you there," he said. "But there are certain
circumstances in the case which have aroused my suspicion, old chap. Of
all the curious cases I've ever investigated while I've been on the
_Comet_, this is the most astounding from every point of view, and I,
for one, shan't rest until we've fully solved the problem."
"In that you'll have my heartiest assistance," I said. "All the time I
can spare away from the office I'll devote to helping you."
"Good," Dick exclaimed heartily, refilling his pipe. "Between us we
ought to find out something, for you and I can get at the bottom of
things as soon as most people."
"The two strangest features of this case," I pointed out, "are first the
telephonic message, and secondly, the disappearance of the first woman
we found."
"And those cards!"
"And that penny wrapped so carefully in paper!" I added. "Yes, there
are fully a dozen extraordinary features connected with the affair. The
whole business is an absolute puzzle."
"Tell me, old chap," Dick said, after a pause, "what causes you to
suspect Patterson?"
"I don't suspect him," I answered quickly. "No. I merely think that he
has not told the exact truth of the first discovery of the crime, that's
all."
"Exactly my own opinion," responded Dick. "He's concealing some very
important fact from us--for what purpose we can't yet tell. There's
more in this than we surmise. Of that I feel absolutely confident."
"The snake story is a little too good," I said, rather surprised that
his suspicions should have been aroused, for I had not related to him my
conversation with Patterson and his very lame excuse for not making a
report of the discovery at the police-station. What had aroused Dick's
suspicions I was extremely puzzled to know. But he was a shrewd, clever
fellow, whose greatest delight was the investigation of crime and the
obtaining of those "revelations" which middle-class London so eagerly
devours.
"A very happy invention of an ingenious mind, my dear fellow," exclaimed
the Mystery-monger. "Depend upon it, Patterson, being already aware
that there were snakes in that house, invented the story, knowing that
when the place was searched it would appear quite circumstantial."
"Then you think that he's not in absolute ignorance of who lived there?"
I exclaimed, surprised at my friend's startling theory.
Dick nodded.
"I shouldn't be surprised if it be proved that he knew all along who the
dead man is."
"Why?"
"Well, I noticed that he never once looked at that man's face. It was
he who covered it with a handkerchief, as though the sight of the white
countenance appalled him."
"Come come," I said, "proceed. You'll say that he's the guilty one
next."
"Ah! no, my dear fellow," he hastened to reassure me. "You quite
misunderstand my meaning. I hold the theory that in life these people
were friends of Patterson's, that's all."
"What makes you suspect such a thing?"
"Well, I watched our friend very closely this evening, and that's the
conclusion I've arrived at."
"You really think that he is concealing facts which might throw light on
the affair?" I exclaimed, much surprised.
"Yes," he answered, "I feel certain of it--absolutely certain."