The Red Room

403," he added, turning to the constable, "andtell the two men in the park that we've finished, and they can go backto their beats."

  "Very well, sir," responded the man, replacing his truncheon as he leftthe room.

  Both inspector and sergeant soon followed him, leaving Langton andmyself alone.

  After the front door had closed, we returned to the big dining-room.

  "Well," he exclaimed, "I don't know what your theory is, Mr. Holford,but I'm absolutely certain that something has happened here. There issome crooked circumstance," and I saw deep lines of thought upon hisshrewd, clever, clean-shaven countenance.

  Why dare not Kirk meet him?

  "The absence of everybody is certainly mysterious," I admitted.

  "Doubly mysterious when one takes into consideration the fact that thedoors leading into the laboratory have been forced," he remarkedquickly. "Three persons dined here to-night. The Professor entertaineda man-friend. Who was he?"

  "That we can only discover when the servants return," I said.

  "Or from the Professor himself," he suggested.

  I held my breath. What would he have said if I had told him the truth--that the Professor was dead, and that a button from his overcoat hadbeen lying among the ashes of the furnace?

  I glanced around the comfortable room where the fire glowed cheerfullyand the electric lights were so cunningly shaded. The Professor was,among other things, a connoisseur of old silver, and upon the sideboardwere a number of fine Georgian pieces, tankards, salvers, candelabra,salt-cellars, decanter stands, and other things, all of which Irecognised as perfect specimens.

  My hand went to my jacket pocket, and I there felt the button. Iwithdrew my fingers in horror.

  We had decided to await the return of the Professor. Await his return!Surely we would have a long time to wait for his arrival?

  I was on my mettle. I alone knew the truth, and to conceal my secretknowledge from this shrewd and active young man would, I saw, bedifficult.

  We seated ourselves beside the fire, and, having offered me a cigarettefrom his case, he began to endeavour to learn more about me. But atfirst I was very wary, and exercised caution in my replies.

  He apologised for mistaking me for an accomplice of thieves, whereat Ilaughed, saying:

  "When we meet the Professor he will perhaps tell you of our longfriendship."

  "Curiously enough," he said, looking straight across at me, "I neverrecollect Ethelwynn speaking of you."

  "I knew very little of the young lady," I hastened to explain; "theProfessor is my friend. He has, on several occasions, told me what agreat help she was to him in his experiments."

  "She is his right hand," declared the young man. "Her knowledge ofcertain branches of chemistry is, perhaps, unequalled in a woman."

  "And yet she is delightful and charming, and nothing of a blue-stocking,I understand," I remarked.

  He smiled, for was he not the happy lover! Ah! what an awakening mustbe his ere long!

  But we gossiped on. His face, however, betrayed a great anxiety, andtime after time he expressed wonder why Ethelwynn had not remained athome to keep the appointment, or left him some message.

  Indeed, we searched both her boudoir and her bedroom to find histelegram, but all in vain. Then again we returned to the dining-room.

  "I suppose you've known the Professor for some years," I remarked,hoping that he would tell me the story of their acquaintance.

  "Oh, yes," answered the young man, twisting a fresh cigarette betweenhis fingers. "I first met him and Ethelwynn at the Gandolfi Palace, inRome, four years ago. I was staying with my aunt, the MarchesaGandolfi, and they were at the Grand Hotel. I saw quite a lot of themall through the Roman season. The Professor gave some lectures beforeone of the Italian learned societies, and I had frequent opportunitiesto take Ethelwynn out to see the sights of the Eternal City. I happento know Rome very well, for I spent all my youth there with my aunt, anEnglishwoman, who married into the Roman nobility, and who, like everyother Englishwoman who takes such a step, repented it afterwards."

  "You mean she was not very happy with her husband?" I said. "I'veheard before that mixed marriages in Italy are never very successful."

  "No," he sighed; "my poor aunt, though she became a Marchesa andpossessed a dozen different titles and probably the finest palazzo inRome, was very soon disillusioned. The Marchese was an over-dressedelegant, who lived mostly at his club, ogled women each afternoon in theCorso, or played baccarat till dawn. And Roman society was not at allkind to her because she was just a plain Englishwoman of a countyfamily. Gandolfi was thrown from his horse while riding over one of hisestates down in Calabria two years ago."

  "The Professor was a friend of your aunt's, I suppose?"

  "Yes, an old friend. At the time when we met, Ethelwynn had, I found,an ardent admirer in a young Italian lieutenant of infantry, who had mether once or twice at the Grand and in the English tea-rooms on theCorso, and had fallen desperately in love with her.

  "The Professor told me of this, and in confidence asked whether I knewthe grey-trousered popinjay. I did not. He had apparently told theProfessor of his family and high connections in Bologna, had declaredhis love for Ethelwynn, and with her consent had asked the Professor forher hand in marriage.

  "I consulted my aunt, who was much against the matrimonial union ofEnglish and Italians, and in secret I went to Bologna to investigate thelieutenant's story. What I found was rather interesting. Instead ofbeing the son of a noble but decayed family, he was the only child of anold man employed as a gardener at a big villa out on the Via Imola, andso erratic had been his career and so many his amours, that his fatherhad disowned him.

  "I returned to Rome with the father's written statement in black andwhite."

  "And what happened then?" I asked, interested.

  "The amorous fortune-hunter spent a rather bad quarter of an hour in theProfessor's sitting-room, and was then quickly sent to the right-about.He quietly got transferred to another regiment up in Cremona, whileEthelwynn, of course, shed a good many tears."

  "And, her disillusionment over, she repaid you for your exertions on herbehalf by becoming engaged to you, eh?"

  "Exactly," was his answer as his mouth relaxed into a smile. "A verystrong attachment exists between the Professor and myself. I am happyto believe, indeed, that I am one of his closest friends--at least, thatis what he declared when I asked his permission to marry Ethelwynn.Perhaps as regards finance I am not all that he might desire," he saidfrankly. "I'm not by any means rich, Mr. Holford. In fact, I'm simplya hard-working business man, but I have a very generous and kindemployer in Sir Albert Oppenheim, and my position as his confidentialsecretary is one of great trust."

  "Sir Albert Oppenheim!" I echoed. "Why, he's supposed to be one of thewealthiest men in England!"

  "He probably is," laughed my friend. "Every rich man, however, hasenemies, and he is no exception. I've read and heard spoken many veryunkind libels about him; but take it, from one who knows, that no man inall England performs more charitable work in secret than he."

  The name recalled several rumours I had heard, ugly rumours ofdishonourable dealings in the City, where he was one of the greatest,shrewdest, and most powerful of modern financiers.

  I had grown to like Leonard Langton for his frankness. That he wasdevoted to the unfortunate girl was very plain, and naturally he wasanxious and puzzled at her failure to be at home to receive him after anabsence of a month in Portugal, where he had, he told me, been engagedupon the purchase of the tramways of Lisbon by an English syndicateformed by Sir Albert.

  He lived in chambers in Wimpole Street, with a great chum of his who wasa doctor, and he invited me to look him up, while I began to tell him alittle about myself, my motor business, and my friends.

  He was a motor enthusiast, I quickly found; therefore I, on my part,invited him to come down to Chiswick and go out for a day's run on the"ninety."

  Thus it oc
curred that, seated in that house of mystery, nay, in thatvery room where I had seen his well-beloved lying cold and dead, webecame friends.

  Ah! if I had but known one tithe of what that hastily-formed friendshipwas to cost me! But if the future were not hidden, surely there wouldbe neither interest nor enjoyment in the present.

  Suddenly, and without warning, I launched upon him the one questionwhich had been ever uppermost in my mind during all the time we had sattogether.

  "I have met on several occasions," I said, "a great friend of theProfessor's, a man you probably know--Kirk--Kershaw Kirk."

  I watched his face as I uttered the words. But, quite contrary to myexpectations, its expression was perfectly blank. The