At last Max spoke, slowly and with great deliberation.
"And you declare yourself as ignorant as I am myself of their
whereabouts?"
"I do," was Rolfe's response. Then after a second's hesitation he added
in a changed voice: "I really think, Max, that you are scarcely treating
me fairly in this matter. Sorely it is in my interests to discover the
whereabouts of Maud! I have done my best."
"Well?"
"And I've failed to discover any clue whatever--except one--that--"
And he broke off, without finishing his sentence.
"What have you discovered? Tell me. Be frank with me."
"I've not yet established whether it is a real clue, or whether a mere
false surmise. When I have, I will tell you."
"But cannot we join forces in endeavouring to solve the problem?" Max
suggested, his suspicion of his friend now removed.
"That is exactly what I would wish. But how shall we begin? Where
shall we commence?" asked Rolfe.
"The truth that it was not you whom I saw leaving the house in Cromwell
Road adds fresh mystery to the already astounding circumstance," Max
declared. "The man who so closely resembled you was purposely made up
to be mistaken for you. There was some strong motive for this. What do
you suggest it could be?"
"To implicate me! But in what?"
The thought of that blood-stained bodice ever haunted Max. It was on
the tip of his tongue to reveal his discovery to his friend, yet on
second thoughts he resolved to at present retain his secret. He had
withheld it from the police, therefore he was perfectly justified in
withholding it from Charlie.
The flat denial of the latter regarding his visit to Cromwell Road
caused him deep reflection. He watched his friend's attitude, and was
compelled to admit within himself that now, at any rate, he was speaking
the truth.
"The only reason for the visit of the man whom I must have mistaken for
yourself, Charlie," he said, "must have been to open that safe."
"Probably so."
Then Max explained, in detail, the position of the safe, and how he had
discovered it being open, and its contents abstracted.
"On your first visit, then, the safe was hidden?"
"Yes. But when I went in the morning it stood revealed, the door blown
open by some explosive."
"By an enemy of the Doctor's," remarked Charlie.
Max did not reply. The Doctor's words regarding his friend on the last
occasion they had sat together recurred to him at that moment with a
queer significance. The Doctor certainly did not like Rolfe. For what
reason? he wondered. Why had he taken such a sudden dislike to him?
Hitherto, they had been quite friendly, ever since the well-remembered
meeting at the Villa des Fleurs, in Aix-les-Bains, and the Doctor had
never, to his knowledge, objected to Maud's association with the smart
young fellow whose keen business instincts had commended him to such a
man as old Sam Statham. The Doctor held no doubt, either secret
knowledge of something detrimental to Rolfe, or else entertained one of
those sudden and unaccountable prejudices which some men form, and which
they are unable to put behind them.
"The one main point we have first to decide, Charlie," he said at last,
standing at the window and gazing thoughtfully down into the narrow
London street, "is whether or not then has been foul play."
Rolfe made no reply, a circumstance which caused him to turn and look
straight into his friend's face. He saw a change there.
His countenance was blanched; but whether by fear of the loss of the
woman he loved, or by a guilty knowledge, Max knew not.
"Marion can tell us," he answered at last. "But she refuses."
"You, her brother, can surely obtain the truth from her?"
"Not when you, her lover, fail," Charlie responded, his brows knit
deeply.
"But a moment ago you said you had a clue?"
"I think I have one. It is only a surmise."
"And in what direction does it trend?"
"Towards foul play," he said hoarsely.
"Political?"
"It may be."
"And were both victims of the plot?"
"I cannot tell. At present I'm making all the secret inquiries
possible--far afield in a Continental city. It takes time, care, and
patience. As soon as I obtain anything tangible, I will tell you. But
first of all, Max," he added, "I wish to have your assurance that you no
longer suspect me. I am not your enemy--why should you be mine?"
"I am not, my dear fellow," declared Barclay. "How can I be the enemy
of Marion's brother? I was only suspicious. You would have been the
same in similar circumstances, I'm sure."
"Probably," laughed Charlie. "Yet what you've told me about the
endeavour to implicate myself in the affair is certainly extraordinary.
I don't see any motive."
"Except that you were known by the conspirators, whoever they are, to be
Maud's lover."
"If so, then they intend, most probably, to bring some false charge
against me. And--and--"
"And what?" asked Max in some surprise.
"Why, don't you see?" he said hoarsely, staring straight into his
friend's face with a horrified expression as a terrible truth arose
within him. "Don't you see that you yourself, Max, would become the
principal witness against me!"
Max stood wondering at the other's sudden anticipation of disaster.
What could he dread if this denial of his was the actual truth?
Again he grew suspicious.
"How can I be witness against you if you are innocent of any connection
with the affair?" he queried.
"Because the Doctor's enemies have done this, in order to shield
themselves."
"But if the Doctor is really still alive, what have you to fear?"
"Is he alive? That is the point."
"Marion gives me to understand that both he and Maud are safe," Max
responded quickly.
The other shook his head dubiously, saying: "If she has told you that,
then it is exactly contrary to what she has given me to understand."
"What? She has expressed a suspicion of foul play?"
"Yes--more than a suspicion."
"Well--this is certainly strange," Max declared. "Marion has all along
been trying to allay my fears."
"Because she feared to upset you, perhaps. With me it is different.
She does not mind my feelings."
"I'm sure she does, Charlie. She's devoted to you. And she ought to
be. Few brothers would do what you have done."
"That's quite outside the question," he said, quickly pacing anxiously
up and down the room. "She told me distinctly the other day that her
fears were of the worst."
"Ah! if you could only induce her to tell us what Maud confessed to her.
It was a confession--a serious and tragic one, I believe."
"Yes. It was, no doubt; and if she would only speak we could, I
believe, quickly get at the truth," Rolfe said. "To me it seems
incredible that the Doctor, your most intimate friend, should not have
found some secret manner by which to communicate with you, and assure
you of his safety."