name brought nosign of recognition of the man to his eyes, which met mine unwaveringly.
"Kirk?" he repeated thoughtfully. "No, I've never met him--at least,not to my knowledge. Was he young--or old?"
"Elderly, and evidently he is a very intimate friend of Greer's."
The young man shook his head. If he was denying any knowledge hepossessed, then he was a most wonderful actor.
Perhaps Kirk himself had lied to me! Yet I remembered that towards himAntonio had always been most humble and servile.
I tried to discern any motive Langton could have to disclaim knowledgeof the mysterious Kirk. But I failed to see any.
As far as I could gather, my companion was not acquainted with the manwhom I had so foolishly allowed to escape from the house.
Yet had not Kirk himself expressed a fear at meeting him? Had he nottold me plainly that by mere mention of his name to that young man, allhope of solving the enigma would be at an end?
Perhaps, after all, I had acted very injudiciously in admitting myknowledge of Kirk. For aught I knew my remarks might now have arousedfurther suspicion in his mind concerning myself. Yet was not thetemptation to put the question too great to be resisted?
At my suggestion we again ascended the stairs, and re-entered theforbidden chamber.
I gave as an excuse that I was curious to examine some of the delicateapparatus which the Professor used in his experiments. My real reason,however, was again to examine those ashes before the furnace.
Circumstances, fortunately, favoured me, for almost as soon as we wereinside the laboratory we heard the telephone bell ringing out upon thelanding.
"I wonder who's ringing up?" Langton exclaimed quickly. "I'll go andsee," and he hurried away to the study where I had noticed theinstrument stood upon a small side-table near the window.
The moment he had gone I bent swiftly and poked over the dust and asheswith my hand.
Yes! Among them were several small pieces of cloth and linen onlyhalf-consumed, some scraps of clothing, together with a silvercollar-stud, blackened by fire.
I feared lest my companion should observe the unusual interest I wastaking in the furnace-refuse, therefore I cleaned my hand quickly withmy handkerchief and followed him.
He had his ear to the telephone, still listening, when I entered thestudy.
Then he placed the receiver upon its hook, for the person with whom hehad been conversing had evidently gone.
Turning, with his eyes fixed upon mine, he made in a few clear words anannouncement which fell upon my ears like a thunderbolt.
I believe I fell back as though I had been struck a blow. By thatplain, simple declaration of his, the dark vista of doubt and mysterybecame instantly enlarged a thousand-fold.
I stood staring blankly at the young man, absolutely refusing to believemy own ears.
What he told me was beyond all credence.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE STORM GATHERS.
"I've just been speaking to Ethelwynn," Langton said. "She's down atBroadstairs."
"At Broadstairs!" I echoed, staring straight at my companion.
"Yes," he replied. "She tells me that her father went up to Edinburgh,but was suddenly called abroad upon business connected with one of hisnewly-patented chemical processes. She rang up Antonio, intending toleave a message for me."
I stood listening to him, utterly dumbfounded. The young man was beingmisled. Had I not with my own eyes seen the poor girl lying cold anddead in the room downstairs? Besides, was it possible that she, whoknew of her father's fate and had seen him lifeless, would tell herlover that great untruth!
Could this be one of Kirk's ingenious subterfuges in order to gain time?
"Then you are satisfied?" I managed at last to stammer.
"To a certain degree, yes," he replied, looking at me with a good dealof surprise, I saw. "But it does not explain why Antonio is absentabroad, or--"
"Gone to meet his master most probably," I interrupted.
"Perhaps. But why has the laboratory been broken open; and, again, whyhas the furnace been lit? Who were the three persons who dined herethis evening? The Professor is away!"
"Miss Ethelwynn might have entertained two friends before leaving forBroadstairs," I suggested.
"They were men. Ethelwynn does not smoke cigarettes."
"Did she say whether she is returning to London?" I inquired.
"She will let me know on the 'phone tomorrow."
"She didn't tell you her father's whereabouts?"
"She doesn't know. He's somewhere in Germany, she believes. He hasbeen in communication with a strong German syndicate, which it seems hasbeen formed in Hamburg to work one of his discoveries. And in hisabsence somebody has undoubtedly been prying into his experiments."
"Somebody who you believe was disturbed by your ring at the door, eh?"
"Exactly!" replied the young man, glancing at his watch. "But now, Mr.Holford, I think I shall go to my rooms. I'm tired after my journey.The Channel crossing was an exceptionally bad one this afternoon.You'll call and see me very soon, won't you?"
I promised, and together we descended the stairs and left the silenthouse.
By his side I walked out by Clarence Gate as far as Baker StreetStation, where we shook hands and parted.
After he had left me I halted on the kerb, utterly bewildered.
It had dawned upon me that there was just a chance of discoveringsomething further among the ashes of the furnace. The window, broken bythe police, would afford an easy means of access. Now, and only now,was my chance of obtaining knowledge of the actual truth.
Therefore I turned back again, and, loitering before the house, seizedmy chance when no one was nigh, opened the basement window and was againinside.
In a few minutes I was again standing in the laboratory, over which theglowing furnace threw a red light. I dared not switch on theelectricity, lest I should give warning to anybody watching outside,hence I was compelled to grope by the fitful firelight among the ashes.
My examination--a long and careful one--resulted in the discovery of ametal cuff-link much discoloured by fire, a charred pearl shirt-button,and a piece of half-burned coloured linen. As far as I could ascertainthere were no human remains--only traces of burnt clothing. But charredbones very much resemble cinders.
Yet were not those remains, in conjunction with the words of KershawKirk, sufficient evidence of a grim and ghastly occurrence?
I left the house by the window, just as I had entered it, and, walkingas far as the Marylebone Road, entered a small private bar, where, beingalone, I took out the scraps of half-burned paper and eagerly examinedthem. Alas! most of the faint-ruled pages were blank. The others,however, were covered with a neat feminine calligraphy, the words, asfar as I could decipher, having reference to certain chemicalexperiments of the Professor's!
Those precious notes by Ethelwynn at the Professor's dictation had, itseemed clear, been wantonly destroyed.
What could have been the motive? If that were found, it would surelynot be difficult to discover the perpetrator of that most amazing crime.
I returned home more than ever mystified, but carrying in my pocket acabinet photograph of the dead man, which I had abstracted from a silverframe in his daughter's boudoir. It was theft, I knew, but was nottheft justifiable in such unusual circumstances?
Next morning I was early at the garage in order to carry out a plan uponwhich I had decided during the grey hours before the dawn. In thetelephone book I searched for, and found, the Professor's number at hisseaside cottage at Broadstairs, and asked the exchange for it.
In a quarter of an hour I was informed that I was "through."
"Is Miss Ethelwynn at home?" I inquired. "No; she's gone out for awalk," replied a feminine voice--that of a maid, evidently. "Who areyou, please?"
"Mr. Kershaw Kirk," I replied, for want of something better to say.
"Oh, Mr. Kirk!" exclaimed the woman. "Is that you
, sir? Your voicesounds so different over the 'phone. Miss Ethelwynn left word that, ifyou rang up, I was to tell you that Mr. Langton is back, so you hadbetter keep out of the way."
"What does Langton know?" I asked, quickly on the alert.
"Nothing yet; only be very careful. Are you coming down here?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I'll ring your mistress up later on to-day.Is there any other message for me?"
"No, my mistress said nothing else, sir."
"Very well," I said. "Good morning!" and I rang off.
That conversation created further doubts in my mind. Here was a girlwhom both Kirk and myself had seen dead, yet she was still alive, andactually acting in conjunction with him to keep her father's death asecret! It was incomprehensible!
What could it mean?
Pelham came to me with some questions concerning the business, but Ionly answered mechanically. I could think of nothing--only of themysterious, inscrutable affair in Sussex Place. The mystery hadpossessed my soul.
At eleven o'clock, suppressing all suspicion I held of Kershaw Kirk, Icalled at his house; but his sister showed me a telegram she hadreceived soon after nine o'clock that morning. It had been handed in atCharing Cross Station, and was to the effect that he was just leavingfor the Continent.
Another curious circumstance! He had gone to join that crafty-facedservant, Antonio Merli. Now that Leonard Langton had returned, heevidently thought it wise to make himself scarce. And yet Langton hadcalmly denied all knowledge of him!
A little before five o'clock that afternoon, while sitting in my glassoffice in the garage, the man Dick Drake brought me a telegram. It hadbeen handed in at the Gare du Nord, in Paris, and was from Kirk. Hisenigmatical words were:
"Recall all I told you. I thank you sincerely for helping me over a difficulty last night. Shall rejoin you shortly. If questioned say nothing. All depends upon you. Silence!"
I read it through in wonder half a dozen times.
I longed to ring up Ethelwynn Greer again. It would be a weirdexperience to converse with one whom I had seen dead. Yet I could thinkof no excuse. Kirk had, no doubt, telegraphed to her, for it seemedthat their association was, after all, a very close one.
The day's work ended, I got into a car and drove to the address inWimpole Street given me by Leonard Langton.
His chambers were particularly cosy and well-furnished; but his man, ayoung foreigner, told me that his master had left for Broadstairs by the"Granville" from Victoria that afternoon.
Therefore I remounted in the car, and turned away down into OxfordStreet, entirely nonplussed.
I could not discern Kirk's motive in exposing the tragic circumstancesto me. I did not see in what way I could assist him, even though hisversion of the affair were the true one.
Who was this Kershaw Kirk? That was the main question. Either he was aman of extraordinary power and influence, or else a most cunning andingenious assassin. Yet was there no suspicion upon Antonio Merli, theforeign servant, who seemed hand-in-glove with Kirk?
Recollection of this caused me to turn the car towards the Euston Roadand search along that long, busy thoroughfare for the tobacconist's shopkept by Antonio's cadaverous-looking brother, Pietro--the only outsider,apparently, aware of the Professor's death.
For fully half an hour I searched, until, near the Tottenham Court Roadend, I came across a little shop where stationery, newspapers, andtobacco were displayed in the window.
Entering, I asked the dark-eyed girl behind the small counter if Mr.Merli kept the establishment.
"Yes, sir, he does," was her reply.
"Can I see him?"
"He's been suddenly called abroad, sir," answered the girl; "he leftLondon this morning."
"By what train?"
"Nine o'clock from Charing Cross."
"Do you happen to know a Mr. Kershaw Kirk?"
"Yes; he was here last night to see him," replied the girl. "That's theonly time I've ever met him."
"When do you expect Mr. Merli back?"
"Oh, I don't know, sir! He's gone to Italy, I expect; and when he goesthere he's generally away for some weeks."
"Then he often goes abroad?"
"Yes, sir; very often. He has some business, I think, which takes himaway travelling, and he leaves this shop in charge of my married sisterand myself. He's not married, as I dare say you know."
"He's seldom here, then?" I remarked, gratified at all thisinformation.
"He lives out at Acton, and only comes here occasionally."
"You know his brother, of course?" I asked, after I had purchased somecigarettes.
"You mean Mr. Antonio? Oh, yes; he's been here once or twice--forletters he has addressed here."
"In another name--eh?" I laughed lightly.
"Yes, they're letters in a lady's hand, so perhaps we'd better not betoo inquisitive," laughed the girl. And then, after some furtherconversation, I told her I would call again in a week's time toascertain if she knew her employer's whereabouts, and, re-entering thecar, drove back to Chiswick, my mind clouded by many anxiousapprehensions.
The outlook was every moment growing darker and more perplexing.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
A STRANGE STORY UNFOLDED.
I confess to having been half-inclined, when I returned home that night,to take Mabel into my confidence. But I hesitated, because I knew thather frankness and sense of justice would lead her to suggest that Ishould go to New Scotland Yard and lay the whole facts before theCriminal Investigation Department.
I had no secrets from her--I loved her far too well. But in thiscrooked affair I had most foolishly given my word of honour to saynothing.
All Kirk's strange declarations and allegations now recurred to me.Hence I was compelled to abandon all idea of making Mabel my confidante.
I knew, however, by the way she looked at me, that she was troubled andpuzzled by my manner. Indeed, that evening when I returned and foundher beside the fire in our cosy sitting-room, her slim fingers busy withsome fancy needlework, I recognised by her pointed questions that sheregarded me with considerable apprehension.
Again she asked me what was the matter, and again I replied evasivelythat I had just then a good many business worries. And we dropped thesubject because Gwen, her younger sister, entered the room.
All next day I debated within myself what course I should now adopt,but, alas! I could not decide upon any. The whole affair was such anentire enigma. The more I had tried to probe the mystery, the moreutterly inexplicable did it seem.
Reflect for a moment, and you will fully realise the peril of myposition. To me, it seemed quite plain that I had by my readiness toaccept Kirk's friendship, given myself entirely into the hands of theconspirators.
If Kirk were truly an honest man and not afraid, he certainly would havecalled in the police. Yet had he not openly admitted his inability toprove an alibi?
That afternoon, a damp and dismal one, I had to run out on a car toTunbridge Wells to see a customer who was purchasing the car which Idrove. I took Dick with me, and, the car being a "forty-eight," we spedalong pretty swiftly until we halted before the entrance to thatold-world promenade, the Pantiles, near which my customer lived.
Before we got home again it was near midnight, but on that night drive Iresolved that on the morrow I would embark upon the work of amateurdetective, and endeavour to discover something on my own account.
To solve such a complete enigma as that now presented one must, Irealised, begin at the beginning. And that was what I intended to do.Therefore, on the following night, at half-past eleven, I left King'sCross in a sleeping-car for Edinburgh, having first ascertained that theconductor was the same who had travelled by that train on the night ofthe Professor's alleged journey.
He was a tall, lean, fair-whiskered Scot, whose uniform seemed too bigfor his shrunken frame, but who bustled up and down the corridor as soonas the train had started, inquiring of the passen
gers at what hour theywould like to be called, and whether they would take tea.
I waited until he came to my compartment, and then I put to him certainquestions regarding his passengers on the night of Sunday, thethirteenth, asking whether he remembered Professor Greer.
"Why, yes, sir," was his answer with a strong northern accent. "Anothergentleman asked me about the Professor when I got back to King's Cross."
"Did you take the Professor up to Edinburgh?"
"Certainly, sir. I remember the name. Indeed, here it is in my book,"and, turning back a few pages, he showed me the name among those who hadsecured sleeping berths in advance. "As I told the other gentleman whoinquired, he wouldn't have any tea, and told me to call him at Dunbar."
"And when you called him did you then see him in his berth?"
"Yes, sir, he pulled the door back and inquired what kind of a morningit was."
"Where did he alight?"
"At Waverley, of course. I handed him out his bags, and one of theporters of the North British Hotel took them."
"You're quite certain of that?"
"As certain as we're going north to-night, sir," replied the man.
Then I drew forth the Professor's photograph from my pocket and showedit to him.
"That's the same gentleman, and a very nice gentleman he was, too, sir,"he declared, the instant his eyes fell upon it. "But for what reason doyou ask this? You're the second person who has made inquiries."
"Only--well, only because the Professor is a little