"I'm sure my husband will feel very indebted to you when he knows all
the facts. I have not the pleasure of your name."
"Morton," I said, "William Morton," and feeling in my pocket expressed
regret that I had forgotten my card-case.
A quarter of an hour later I took my leave and was walking down Sydenham
Hill when I suddenly encountered my friend the police inspector of the
night of the strange affair at Keymer.
He glanced at me, and our recognition was mutual.
Then when he had greeted me he turned on his heel and walked in my
direction. After some conversation regarding the mysterious attempt and
its fatal termination, he said in a hard voice,--
"Our people are rather surprised at your attitude, you know."
"My attitude! What do you mean?" I exclaimed, looking at him in
surprise.
"Well. You might have given information when you knew that we wanted to
question that man Parham."
"Information of what?"
"Of his whereabouts. You were seen one evening not long ago talking to
him."
"Where?"
"In the entrance to the Empire," replied the inspector. "One of our
plain-clothes men saw you with Parham and another man. But the fellow
managed to get away, as he always does."