"No," I replied. "From my observations I feel perfectly confident that
he is not a detective. He is more likely an adventurer."
"Are you absolutely sure he is not connected with the police?"
"I feel certain he's not," I answered. "From one fact that came under
my notice I have been led to the conclusion that he is an adventurer of
the first water."
"A criminal?"
"No, I don't go quite so far as that. All I know is that he has an
utter contempt for the law."
"Then he has, to your knowledge, committed some offence?" Fyneshade
cried quickly, with undisguised satisfaction.
"Not exactly. His action might, however, bring him within the pale of
the law." I had no desire to impart to this thin, dark-faced peer the
wretched story of my marriage.
"What was the nature of his action?" he demanded eagerly. "Tell me."
"Oh, it was really of no interest," I replied quite flippantly. "I may
have been mistaken after all."
"In other words, you refuse to tell me--eh?" he observed with a sickly
smile.
"I cannot explain any matter of which I have no knowledge," I retorted,
well knowing that he was endeavouring to worm from me facts to use as
weapons against his enemy, and at the same time feeling convinced that
in order to discover the secret hinted at by his wife, I must act
warily, and with the most careful discretion. This strange encounter
with the Earl, his curious actions in his own house, and his eagerness
to learn something detrimental to the mysterious Markwick, formed a
bewildering problem. Nevertheless by some intuition I felt that by
silence and watchfulness I should at last succeed in finding some clue
to this ever-deepening mystery.
While we listened we heard the Countess emerge from the drawing-room and
call to her pug as, with a rustle of silk, she mounted the stairs. Then
Fyneshade's conversation drifted into other channels. But he made no
further mention of his disagreement with Mabel, and never once referred
to the strange disappearance of Gilbert Sternroyd. Though I exerted all
my ingenuity to lead up to both subjects, he studiously avoided them,
and having waited until all seemed quiet and none of the servants were
moving, we both crept out, the Earl closing the front door silently by
means of his key.
In the street he glanced swiftly around in order to see if he had been
observed, then suddenly gripping my hand, he wished me a hurried adieu,
and walked quickly away, leaving me standing on the curb. His usual
courteous manner seemed to have forsaken him, for he offered no excuse
for leaving me so abruptly, nor did he apparently desire my company any
longer. Therefore I turned and pursued my way engrossed in thought
Truly the Earl and Countess of Fyneshade were an ill-assorted pair, and
their actions utterly incomprehensible.