Chapter Twenty Eight.

Chapter Twenty Eight.“No Trumps.”In the failing London light, as Kirk rose and stood near the window, his countenance was even more sinister and more mysterious than ever. About his lips played that enigmatical, sarcastic smile which so tantalised and irritated me. Here was a man who had actually deceived the hard-headed Sheffield magnate into a belief that he possessed power and influence, while, in reality, he was only a clever adventurer.“Sit down, Holford,” he said, in a cheery voice, inviting me to a big leather arm-chair. “The time has come when it is very necessary for you and me to arrive at some clear and definite understanding.”“Yes,” I cried, “I agree with you. Have I not asked you all along for a clear statement of facts? Have I not urged you to tell me where I can find my wife?”“You have,” he said, leaning against the big, old-fashioned mahogany table piled with books and scientific periodicals. “But until the present I have been unable to satisfy you. Even now I am still in a great measure in the dark as to the—well, the unfortunate occurrence, shall we call it?—which took place in this house.”“But you have, I understand, been acting in concert with the man who calls himself Greer?” I remarked. “You’ve been with him abroad!”“I don’t deny that. Why should I?”I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. His evasion was always cunning, always well-contrived.“When you first brought me here,” I said, “it was to obtain my assistance to discover who killed Professor Greer, and—”“And you made a promise which you did not keep!” he interrupted. “Hence I have been unable to keep faith with you. Is not that quite feasible?”“My wife’s disappearance is the point which most concerns me,” I said. “The other matter is, to me, of secondary importance. If you cared to divulge, you could tell me my wife’s whereabouts. I happen to know that she has been in Vienna, staying at the Hôtel Continental, and she has been seen in your company, Mr Kirk.”“Now that’s really quite smart of you!” he laughed, with a patronising air, his grey face changing slightly, I thought. “I wonder how you came to know that?”“The source of my information does not matter,” I said sharply. “Suffice it that it is a reliable one.”“Well,” he laughed, “since that evening when you sat with me in Bedford Park I’ve been compelled to be active, and I’ve discovered quite a number of things which at that time I never dreamed—facts that have amazed me, as they will, before long, amaze you, Holford.”“Nothing can amaze me in this crooked affair,” I declared. “You sought my aid in an endeavour to discover who killed Professor Greer, yet, having gained my confidence, you at once abused it!” I cried, with bitter reproach.“That is your present opinion,” he said, with a keen, crafty look.“An opinion based upon your actions towards me!” I exclaimed hotly.“My dear Holford,” he said, “now let us speak quite frankly, as man to man.” And he bent towards me in an eager attitude. “I put it to you whether, in the circumstances—not overlooking the fact that Scotland Yard has refused you assistance—to forget what you saw that night upstairs in the laboratory, to place it aside as though you never witnessed it, is not the best plan?”“Ah, you wish still to hush up the tragedy!” I cried. “The reason is, of course, quite obvious.”“You misinterpret my words. I wish to avoid bringing scandal upon innocent folk,” Kirk replied quickly. “You once gave me a pledge of secrecy, and you broke it. Will you give me another?”“And if I gave it,” I asked, not without some hesitation, “would these precious friends of yours give me back my wife?”“I cannot answer for others. Personally, I will do all I can to assist you,” was his somewhat evasive reply.“Why do you wish to extract this promise from me?” I demanded dubiously.“Because—well, because you must give it. Youmustremain silent, Holford. It is imperative!”“You really ask too much of me,” I laughed sarcastically. “I know the ghastly truth. You showed it to me of your own accord—you yourself drew me into this dark, mysterious affair, and now you coolly demand my silence, because you are, I suppose, interested in the money realised by the sale of Professor Greer’s secret.”“Ethelwynn Greer makes the same demand as myself,” he said calmly. “Surely you don’t believe that the girl has participated in any shamefully obtained profits?”“The girl saw her father dead, and now refuses to admit it,” I responded.“How do you know that she did?” he asked. “What actual evidence have you upon that point, beyond my word—repeated from the story told to me by Antonio?”“Ah! so Antonio is changing his tale in order to fit the new order of events—is he?”“Well,” Kirk said, after a brief pause, “that there is a new order of events—as you put it—I admit. Yet, whatever they may be, your silence, Holford, as well as mine, is imperative. You hear that!” he added, looking straight into my face.“To hear and to heed are scarcely synonymous,” I remarked in anger. I was incensed with this man who refused to give me any satisfaction concerning Mabel, and yet commanded my silence.Was it not a very curious feature of the affair, I reflected, that Ethelwynn had ingeniously approached me, offering me news of Mabel in return for my undertaking to make no further inquiry into her father’s secret death? How much did Langton know, and what was the extent of the knowledge of that friend of his, the specialist in diseases of the throat and nose?For a few moments I sat in silence, longing for the return of the bogus Professor, the man whom I had followed through Edinburgh and Glasgow, yet who had so very cleverly escaped my vigilance.I was anxious to meet him, and to see what kind of man he could be. As an impostor he was, it seemed, shameless and bold beyond human credence.How many thousands had Edwards and Sutton paid to him for that great secret that was not his own?Antonio, suave and cringing, suddenly put his head in at the door, asking:“Did you ring, signore?”“No!” I cried, rising angrily, “Mr Kirk did not ring. I suppose you’ve been listening outside—eh? You are one of the accomplices in the murder of your master—and by Heaven, you shall pay for it! If Scotland Yard will not help me, then I’ll take the law into my own hands and give the public an illustration of the red-tape and the uselessness of the police!”“The signore is a little excited!” was the man’s quiet remark to Kirk.“Excited, by Heaven!” I cried. “I’ll be fooled no longer by any of you—band of assassins that you are! You ask me to believe that black is white, and tell me that my own eyes deceive me. But I’ll be even with you yet—mark me!”“Pray calm yourself, Holford,” said Kirk, shifting his position slightly and still leaning easily against the table, “No good can be served by recrimination.”The man’s cunning was unequalled; his ingenuity almost superhuman. Once I had held him in awe, but now, knowing the truth, that I held information which it was his earnest desire to suppress, I felt triumphant.“I admit,” he said, still speaking calmly, as Antonio disappeared and shut the door—“I admit that there are certain ugly facts—very ugly facts which are difficult to forget, but is it not better to be merciful to the innocent and living than to revenge the dead?”“You desire to seal my lips, my dear sir,” I said. “Why don’t you speak quite plainly?”“Yes,” he admitted, “I make that appeal to you because—well, for several very strong reasons—Ethelwynn’s future being one.”“And what, pray, need I care for that girl’s future, now that mine has been wrecked by the devilish machinations of you and your gang?” I cried in bitter anger.“Your denunciation is quite uncalled for, Holford!” he exclaimed.“It is not,” I protested. “You know where my wife is, and you refuse to tell me!” was my quick answer.“Please don’t let us discuss that further,” he urged. “The point is whether you will, or you will not, regard all you saw in this house a couple of months ago as entirely confidential.”“Why?”“For reasons which you shall know later. I regret that I cannot explain at this moment, because I should be breaking a confidence,” he responded. “But,” he added, looking at me very seriously, “a life—a woman’s life—depends upon your silence!”I hesitated a moment.“Ah, I see!” I cried. “Then the girl conspired to encompass her father’s end, and is now in fear of the impostor!”“I must leave you to your own opinion,” he said, with a shrug of his thin shoulders. Then, turning away to the window, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and, with that cosmopolitan air of his, he hummed a verse of that catchy song of the boulevards he so often sang.

In the failing London light, as Kirk rose and stood near the window, his countenance was even more sinister and more mysterious than ever. About his lips played that enigmatical, sarcastic smile which so tantalised and irritated me. Here was a man who had actually deceived the hard-headed Sheffield magnate into a belief that he possessed power and influence, while, in reality, he was only a clever adventurer.

“Sit down, Holford,” he said, in a cheery voice, inviting me to a big leather arm-chair. “The time has come when it is very necessary for you and me to arrive at some clear and definite understanding.”

“Yes,” I cried, “I agree with you. Have I not asked you all along for a clear statement of facts? Have I not urged you to tell me where I can find my wife?”

“You have,” he said, leaning against the big, old-fashioned mahogany table piled with books and scientific periodicals. “But until the present I have been unable to satisfy you. Even now I am still in a great measure in the dark as to the—well, the unfortunate occurrence, shall we call it?—which took place in this house.”

“But you have, I understand, been acting in concert with the man who calls himself Greer?” I remarked. “You’ve been with him abroad!”

“I don’t deny that. Why should I?”

I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. His evasion was always cunning, always well-contrived.

“When you first brought me here,” I said, “it was to obtain my assistance to discover who killed Professor Greer, and—”

“And you made a promise which you did not keep!” he interrupted. “Hence I have been unable to keep faith with you. Is not that quite feasible?”

“My wife’s disappearance is the point which most concerns me,” I said. “The other matter is, to me, of secondary importance. If you cared to divulge, you could tell me my wife’s whereabouts. I happen to know that she has been in Vienna, staying at the Hôtel Continental, and she has been seen in your company, Mr Kirk.”

“Now that’s really quite smart of you!” he laughed, with a patronising air, his grey face changing slightly, I thought. “I wonder how you came to know that?”

“The source of my information does not matter,” I said sharply. “Suffice it that it is a reliable one.”

“Well,” he laughed, “since that evening when you sat with me in Bedford Park I’ve been compelled to be active, and I’ve discovered quite a number of things which at that time I never dreamed—facts that have amazed me, as they will, before long, amaze you, Holford.”

“Nothing can amaze me in this crooked affair,” I declared. “You sought my aid in an endeavour to discover who killed Professor Greer, yet, having gained my confidence, you at once abused it!” I cried, with bitter reproach.

“That is your present opinion,” he said, with a keen, crafty look.

“An opinion based upon your actions towards me!” I exclaimed hotly.

“My dear Holford,” he said, “now let us speak quite frankly, as man to man.” And he bent towards me in an eager attitude. “I put it to you whether, in the circumstances—not overlooking the fact that Scotland Yard has refused you assistance—to forget what you saw that night upstairs in the laboratory, to place it aside as though you never witnessed it, is not the best plan?”

“Ah, you wish still to hush up the tragedy!” I cried. “The reason is, of course, quite obvious.”

“You misinterpret my words. I wish to avoid bringing scandal upon innocent folk,” Kirk replied quickly. “You once gave me a pledge of secrecy, and you broke it. Will you give me another?”

“And if I gave it,” I asked, not without some hesitation, “would these precious friends of yours give me back my wife?”

“I cannot answer for others. Personally, I will do all I can to assist you,” was his somewhat evasive reply.

“Why do you wish to extract this promise from me?” I demanded dubiously.

“Because—well, because you must give it. Youmustremain silent, Holford. It is imperative!”

“You really ask too much of me,” I laughed sarcastically. “I know the ghastly truth. You showed it to me of your own accord—you yourself drew me into this dark, mysterious affair, and now you coolly demand my silence, because you are, I suppose, interested in the money realised by the sale of Professor Greer’s secret.”

“Ethelwynn Greer makes the same demand as myself,” he said calmly. “Surely you don’t believe that the girl has participated in any shamefully obtained profits?”

“The girl saw her father dead, and now refuses to admit it,” I responded.

“How do you know that she did?” he asked. “What actual evidence have you upon that point, beyond my word—repeated from the story told to me by Antonio?”

“Ah! so Antonio is changing his tale in order to fit the new order of events—is he?”

“Well,” Kirk said, after a brief pause, “that there is a new order of events—as you put it—I admit. Yet, whatever they may be, your silence, Holford, as well as mine, is imperative. You hear that!” he added, looking straight into my face.

“To hear and to heed are scarcely synonymous,” I remarked in anger. I was incensed with this man who refused to give me any satisfaction concerning Mabel, and yet commanded my silence.

Was it not a very curious feature of the affair, I reflected, that Ethelwynn had ingeniously approached me, offering me news of Mabel in return for my undertaking to make no further inquiry into her father’s secret death? How much did Langton know, and what was the extent of the knowledge of that friend of his, the specialist in diseases of the throat and nose?

For a few moments I sat in silence, longing for the return of the bogus Professor, the man whom I had followed through Edinburgh and Glasgow, yet who had so very cleverly escaped my vigilance.

I was anxious to meet him, and to see what kind of man he could be. As an impostor he was, it seemed, shameless and bold beyond human credence.

How many thousands had Edwards and Sutton paid to him for that great secret that was not his own?

Antonio, suave and cringing, suddenly put his head in at the door, asking:

“Did you ring, signore?”

“No!” I cried, rising angrily, “Mr Kirk did not ring. I suppose you’ve been listening outside—eh? You are one of the accomplices in the murder of your master—and by Heaven, you shall pay for it! If Scotland Yard will not help me, then I’ll take the law into my own hands and give the public an illustration of the red-tape and the uselessness of the police!”

“The signore is a little excited!” was the man’s quiet remark to Kirk.

“Excited, by Heaven!” I cried. “I’ll be fooled no longer by any of you—band of assassins that you are! You ask me to believe that black is white, and tell me that my own eyes deceive me. But I’ll be even with you yet—mark me!”

“Pray calm yourself, Holford,” said Kirk, shifting his position slightly and still leaning easily against the table, “No good can be served by recrimination.”

The man’s cunning was unequalled; his ingenuity almost superhuman. Once I had held him in awe, but now, knowing the truth, that I held information which it was his earnest desire to suppress, I felt triumphant.

“I admit,” he said, still speaking calmly, as Antonio disappeared and shut the door—“I admit that there are certain ugly facts—very ugly facts which are difficult to forget, but is it not better to be merciful to the innocent and living than to revenge the dead?”

“You desire to seal my lips, my dear sir,” I said. “Why don’t you speak quite plainly?”

“Yes,” he admitted, “I make that appeal to you because—well, for several very strong reasons—Ethelwynn’s future being one.”

“And what, pray, need I care for that girl’s future, now that mine has been wrecked by the devilish machinations of you and your gang?” I cried in bitter anger.

“Your denunciation is quite uncalled for, Holford!” he exclaimed.

“It is not,” I protested. “You know where my wife is, and you refuse to tell me!” was my quick answer.

“Please don’t let us discuss that further,” he urged. “The point is whether you will, or you will not, regard all you saw in this house a couple of months ago as entirely confidential.”

“Why?”

“For reasons which you shall know later. I regret that I cannot explain at this moment, because I should be breaking a confidence,” he responded. “But,” he added, looking at me very seriously, “a life—a woman’s life—depends upon your silence!”

I hesitated a moment.

“Ah, I see!” I cried. “Then the girl conspired to encompass her father’s end, and is now in fear of the impostor!”

“I must leave you to your own opinion,” he said, with a shrug of his thin shoulders. Then, turning away to the window, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and, with that cosmopolitan air of his, he hummed a verse of that catchy song of the boulevards he so often sang.

Chapter Twenty Nine.I am Faced with Another Difficulty.The careless manner in which Kirk seemed to treat the grave issue of my life enraged me. This man, who in Chiswick posed as shabby and broken-down, was certainly no ordinary person. He was a shrewd, clever adventurer, possessed of resources that had even astonished Sir Mark Edwards. He had entrapped me, for some hidden reason of his own, and now he held me in a hateful bondage.But with the vivid recollection of Mabel upon me, I resolved to defy this enemy of mine at all costs. I was only awaiting the return of the false Professor to unmask the pair, to call a constable, and to give them both in charge.What the result would be, I cared not. I should, however, at least be afforded an opportunity to make revelations in the police-court which they would find it somewhat awkward to refute. Surely by doing this I should be performing a work of public benefit? The pair were clever swindlers, reaping the harvest from that secret discovered by the unfortunate man who had been purposely killed.“You appear, Mr Kirk, to consider me an absolute fool!” I said, interrupting his song.“I do, my dear Holford, I do. You have acted against your own interests, and even now you are spitting against the wind.”“You desire my silence, yet you offer me nothing in return!” I said.“Oh, you want payment!” he cried. “My dear sir, you have only to name your own price. We shall not quarrel over it, I can assure you.”“No,” I said angrily, “I desire no blood-money, even though it is to save Ethelwynn Greer. I have all along suspected her of some complicity in the affair, although on the night you removed her to that house in Foley Street she accused you of the crime!”He started quickly and turned to me, his countenance slightly paler.“Repeat that,” he said quietly.I did so. I told him how I had followed him to Foley Street, of the screams and words I had heard while standing in the fog outside the house.“H’m. So you think I’m guilty of the crime, eh?” he said simply.“I repeat the girl’s allegation against you,” I said. “And yet this same girl now declares that the Professor is not dead!” Then I added: “He was dead when we were together in the laboratory, was he not? Come, speak plainly!”“Certainly he was!”“And men do not come to life again when once dead, do they?”“But this is an unusual case, I tell you. He—”“However unusual, you cannot alter the laws of life and death,” I declared.“Well, my dear Holford, how I wish I could reveal to you one simple truth. It would astound you, no doubt, but it would at the same time alter your opinion of me.”“Oh, of course,” I laughed bitterly. “You’re not so black as you’re painted—you who have conspired to hold my wife aloof from me—you who for aught I know have told her some infamous tale which has caused her to look upon me with doubt and horror! I have recently learnt that she was acquainted with this man who calls himself Ernest Greer, and that, before she left my roof, she received word in secret from him.”“Your wife’s affairs are surely of no interest to me, Holford,” said the grey-faced old scoundrel. “I am merely putting forward to you a simple matter of business—in a word, making a proposal for your consideration.”“A proposal which I will never accept—never, you understand!” I added with emphasis.“Not if I appeal to you on behalf of Ethelwynn, on behalf of a girl whose very life is dependent upon your silence?” he asked earnestly.“The punishment for murder is death,” was my hard response.He regarded me steadily, without speaking. I saw that he realised my steadfastness of purpose, and that I meant to reveal the truth to all the world.“But,” he cried at last, “you surely will not act as a fool, Holford! I told you on the night we first sat together of the great issues that depended upon your silence, and I repeat it now.”“Why did you entice me into this complicated tangle of crime and mystery?” I demanded quickly. “Tell me that.”“Because—well—” And he hesitated. “Because I—I was a fool—I admit it frankly. I ought never to have approached you. Three days later I regretted it deeply.”“Regretted it because you found, to your surprise, that you had no fool to deal with!” I cried.“No; because I had made a mistake in another direction. But—but, hark?”I listened and heard a footstep outside on the stairs.“The Professor!” Kirk exclaimed. “He has returned. I’ll introduce you.”I rose from my chair, my teeth set together, my hand gripping the edge of the table.An instant later the door opened, and I stood boldly face to face with the impostor.Kirk, with that calm suavity of manner that so annoyed and irritated me, introduced us.But I bowed coldly to the well-dressed, elderly impostor, a man with keen, deep-set eyes, and a short, scrubby grey beard, asking of my companion:“Is this farce really necessary, Mr Kirk, when I know the truth?”The new-comer looked askance at his accomplice, who gave him a quick, meaning look.“Ah! my dear Mr Holford!” exclaimed the bogus Professor, “I’ve been most anxious to meet you for a considerable time. This is a great pleasure.”“And one which I most heartily reciprocate,” was my hard reply. “I’ve been endeavouring to find you for a long time. I followed you in Edinburgh, in Glasgow, and later on in Birmingham.”“Then surely it is a rather happy circumstance that we have met to-day?” he said, rather fussily.“Happy for me, but perhaps unhappy for you!” I replied, with a dry laugh.“Why?”“Because I now intend to expose your very clever plot. The secret you have sold to Sir Mark Edwards does not belong to you at all, but to Professor Ernest Greer, the man who was killed in the room yonder—in his own laboratory!”His lips grew paler and set themselves hard. I saw in his dark eyes an expression of fear. He held me in terror—that was quite plain.“Holford, you are mistaken,” declared Kirk.“In what way?” I demanded.“Professor Ernest Greer stands before you!”“No!” I cried. “This man is the impostor—the impostor who wrote to my wife, and enticed her from her home.”“I wrote to Mrs Holford, certainly,” was the fellow’s cool reply. “But without any evil intent; of that she will herself assure you.”“Where is she?”“You will, no doubt, see her before very long, and she will explain the reason of her absence.”“Ah!” I said, “you adventurers dare not tell me the truth with your own lips. Remember, I saw the Professor lying dead in this house. You cannot induce me to believe that my eyes deceived me!”“And yet you see the Professor alive before you now!” declared Kirk with a triumphant laugh.But I made a gesture of disgust, declaring that I refused to be fooled further.“You are not being fooled, Mr Holford,” asserted the man in a calm, distinct voice, as he opened the door and called to Antonio.The grave-eyed manservant entered in a few seconds, and as he did so the new-comer said: “Antonio, will you please tell this gentleman who I am?”“You are my dear master, signore—the Signor Professor Ernest Greer.”“I already know, Antonio, that you’re a clever liar,” I cried, “so you can retire.”“The Signorina Ethelwynn has just arrived, signore,” remarked the highly respectable manservant.“Ah! then tell my daughter to come up?” he cried. “She will no doubt satisfy Mr Holford that I am no impostor.”“Miss Ethelwynn saw her father lying dead, as I did; how, therefore, can she identify you as her deceased parent? Have you a half-brother, or some relation strongly resembling you?”“No, I have not,” was his quick reply. “I am simply Professor Ernest Greer, whom a thousand persons living can identify.”At that moment the fair-haired girl neatly attired in fur jacket, tailor-made skirt, and toque entered, and, with a spring, fell into the impostor’s arms and kissed him.That piece of acting was, without doubt, perfect. Yet I stood aside and smiled. Had not Kirk previously admitted to me that his earnest endeavour was to secure my silence?“Am I your father?” asked the dark-eyed man of Ethelwynn, standing with his hand upon her shoulder.“Of course you are, dear dad! Why?”“Because this gentleman will not believe it!” he laughed.“This is my father, Mr Holford,” the girl declared, turning to me.“But did not you, with your own eyes, see your father dead in his laboratory?” I asked seriously. “Are you not being misled, as these men are trying to mislead me?” I suggested.She hesitated, glancing towards the man who posed as the Professor as though expecting him to reply for her.“No,” I went on, “this is a conspiracy—a plot to place this man in a dead man’s shoes. And you know it, Miss Ethelwynn.”“I tell you he’s my father!” the girl persisted. “Cannot you believe us?”“Not without some independent proof,” I said. This persistence angered me.“Then what proof do you require?” asked the man. “Shall I call the park-keeper at Clarence Gate? He has known me and seen me every day for a number of years.”“Call him, if you wish,” I said, though, truth to tell, I did not intend to be longer fooled by the ingenious machinations of Kirk and his gang.Antonio was sent to find the park-keeper, who, in due time, appeared, carrying his gold-laced hat in his hand.“You’ve known Professor Greer a long time?” I asked the white-headed man.“Several years, sir,” was his quick reply.“And do you recognise this gentleman as the Professor?” I asked.“Certainly, sir; I saw him pass in at the gate this morning. He’s cut off his beard, and that makes a bit of difference to a man, you know!”He laughed.“You have no hesitation in identifying him, eh?” I asked. “You’ll be able to swear to him in a court of law?”“Yes, sir, in any court of law. The Professor’s been very kind to me, once or twice; therefore it isn’t likely that I forget either his face or his voice.”This bewildered me. Was it possible that this impostor was the Professor’s twin brother? I felt confident that Kirk was continuing some very ingenious conspiracy. Was not his suggestion to me that I should forget the tragedy sufficient proof of double-dealing?I thanked the park-keeper, who withdrew with Antonio, whereupon Kirk asked me whether I was not satisfied.“No,” I said, “and I shall never be satisfied until I discover the identity of the man who killed Professor Greer.”“But Professor Greer stands before you!” declared Ethelwynn; “nobody killed him!”“So you wish me to believe,” I said with a smile, “but as my secrecy has been demanded on your account, I can only suspect that you were, in some way, implicated in the crime.”She went pale as death. My words, I saw, had a startling effect upon her. She looked first at Kirk and then at the man posing as her father—the man who had secured many thousands of pounds for a secret that was not his own.“Then you refuse to accept even the park-keeper’s testimony?” Kirk remarked, while the man who had assumed the Professor’s identity walked across to the writing-table and began looking at some letters lying upon it.“I do; my intention is to unmask you all!” The impostor, the fading light falling upon his clear-cut countenance, turned quickly, and upon his face rested an expression of deadly fear that I had not previously noticed. Hitherto his attitude had been one of bold unconcern. But now, realising my determination, he had grown alarmed. He saw that he had carried the imposture too far.“Ethelwynn,” he said, in a low, strained voice, “I—I wish to speak with Mr Holford. Will you leave us for a little while, dear. Go into the Red Room, and we’ll join you there later.”“My dear sir,” I exclaimed, “I don’t desire to hear any more of your denials.”“I’ll go, dad, of course,” replied the girl, who, in obedience with his suggestion, left the room.I turned to follow her, but with a sudden movement he placed himself before the door, exclaiming anxiously:“Mr Holford, pray hear me for one moment, I beg of you. I want to tell you something—to confess!”“Ah!” I laughed triumphantly. “At last! you will confess! Good! I am all attention.”“Listen carefully to the facts, Holford,” urged Kirk. “The Professor’s peril lies in the knowledge possessed by one man—yourself. It is therefore but just that you should know the truth.”“I do not expect the truth from you,” I laughed. “How can I, after all that has passed?”“The deceit I’ve practised upon you has been imperative,” was his audacious answer.“Let me explain,” interrupted the impostor, advancing to the fireplace near which I stood. “First, I repeat that I am Professor Ernest Greer, and that this is my house. My statement can be verified later, but for the present I ask you to accept it as the truth. My old friend here, Kershaw Kirk, is not an adventurer, though he so often poses as such. But it is under necessity, for his real profession is that of a confidential agent of the British Government, the trusted head official of our Intelligence Department.”At this I smiled incredulously, wondering what fantastic story he was about to relate, for even then I did not recognise him by the photograph I had obtained just before going up to Scotland. He was thinner, and his eyes were quite unlike those of the photograph, being narrower and deeper set.“The plain facts are as follows,” he went on, after a second’s pause. “I had been experimenting until I had discovered an easy method of obtaining from the air those subtle elements helium and neon. My success had incidentally confirmed Sir William Ramsay’s estimation that the proportion of neon and helium in the atmosphere was about one to two in each hundred thousand, when a suggestion occurred to me that my process of hardening armour-plates might be improved upon, and a substance of great cutting power created. My experiments were long and tedious, but were at last crowned with success. I very foolishly gave, in the French scientific journalCosmos, some account of these experiments, and a month later I was secretly informed by Kirk that the German Government—always our rivals where improvements in war material are concerned—was actively endeavouring to obtain my secret. As you know, I always kept my laboratory locked, and allowed no one within upon any pretext. My only confidante was my daughter Ethelwynn.”And again he paused, glancing across at where Kirk stood, narrow-eyed and silent.“Well,” he went on, “after another month had passed, Kirk returned from Germany, where he had been upon a secret mission for the Government, and then he urged me to exercise the greatest care. A very clever German agent, by name Max Leftwich, who had resided in London for some years, had been instructed to obtain my secret at all hazards. Kirk warned me that he was a man of remarkable tact and ability, and that under his control were fully a dozen agents rendering him assistance. It was he who had obtained for his employers in Berlin the secret of our new submarine boat, and who had controlled the survey of the Suffolk coast in view of the coming invasion. I confess that I laughed at Kirk’s fears—fears which were repeated to me by one of the Lords of the Admiralty only a week later. I saw no reason, however, for any serious apprehension. My laboratory was always locked, and could not be entered either from the skylight or conservatory, while the only keys of those double doors were secure upon my chain. But, alas! I had, like many another man, foolishly lulled myself into a sense of false security.”And he sighed as he again paused.

The careless manner in which Kirk seemed to treat the grave issue of my life enraged me. This man, who in Chiswick posed as shabby and broken-down, was certainly no ordinary person. He was a shrewd, clever adventurer, possessed of resources that had even astonished Sir Mark Edwards. He had entrapped me, for some hidden reason of his own, and now he held me in a hateful bondage.

But with the vivid recollection of Mabel upon me, I resolved to defy this enemy of mine at all costs. I was only awaiting the return of the false Professor to unmask the pair, to call a constable, and to give them both in charge.

What the result would be, I cared not. I should, however, at least be afforded an opportunity to make revelations in the police-court which they would find it somewhat awkward to refute. Surely by doing this I should be performing a work of public benefit? The pair were clever swindlers, reaping the harvest from that secret discovered by the unfortunate man who had been purposely killed.

“You appear, Mr Kirk, to consider me an absolute fool!” I said, interrupting his song.

“I do, my dear Holford, I do. You have acted against your own interests, and even now you are spitting against the wind.”

“You desire my silence, yet you offer me nothing in return!” I said.

“Oh, you want payment!” he cried. “My dear sir, you have only to name your own price. We shall not quarrel over it, I can assure you.”

“No,” I said angrily, “I desire no blood-money, even though it is to save Ethelwynn Greer. I have all along suspected her of some complicity in the affair, although on the night you removed her to that house in Foley Street she accused you of the crime!”

He started quickly and turned to me, his countenance slightly paler.

“Repeat that,” he said quietly.

I did so. I told him how I had followed him to Foley Street, of the screams and words I had heard while standing in the fog outside the house.

“H’m. So you think I’m guilty of the crime, eh?” he said simply.

“I repeat the girl’s allegation against you,” I said. “And yet this same girl now declares that the Professor is not dead!” Then I added: “He was dead when we were together in the laboratory, was he not? Come, speak plainly!”

“Certainly he was!”

“And men do not come to life again when once dead, do they?”

“But this is an unusual case, I tell you. He—”

“However unusual, you cannot alter the laws of life and death,” I declared.

“Well, my dear Holford, how I wish I could reveal to you one simple truth. It would astound you, no doubt, but it would at the same time alter your opinion of me.”

“Oh, of course,” I laughed bitterly. “You’re not so black as you’re painted—you who have conspired to hold my wife aloof from me—you who for aught I know have told her some infamous tale which has caused her to look upon me with doubt and horror! I have recently learnt that she was acquainted with this man who calls himself Ernest Greer, and that, before she left my roof, she received word in secret from him.”

“Your wife’s affairs are surely of no interest to me, Holford,” said the grey-faced old scoundrel. “I am merely putting forward to you a simple matter of business—in a word, making a proposal for your consideration.”

“A proposal which I will never accept—never, you understand!” I added with emphasis.

“Not if I appeal to you on behalf of Ethelwynn, on behalf of a girl whose very life is dependent upon your silence?” he asked earnestly.

“The punishment for murder is death,” was my hard response.

He regarded me steadily, without speaking. I saw that he realised my steadfastness of purpose, and that I meant to reveal the truth to all the world.

“But,” he cried at last, “you surely will not act as a fool, Holford! I told you on the night we first sat together of the great issues that depended upon your silence, and I repeat it now.”

“Why did you entice me into this complicated tangle of crime and mystery?” I demanded quickly. “Tell me that.”

“Because—well—” And he hesitated. “Because I—I was a fool—I admit it frankly. I ought never to have approached you. Three days later I regretted it deeply.”

“Regretted it because you found, to your surprise, that you had no fool to deal with!” I cried.

“No; because I had made a mistake in another direction. But—but, hark?”

I listened and heard a footstep outside on the stairs.

“The Professor!” Kirk exclaimed. “He has returned. I’ll introduce you.”

I rose from my chair, my teeth set together, my hand gripping the edge of the table.

An instant later the door opened, and I stood boldly face to face with the impostor.

Kirk, with that calm suavity of manner that so annoyed and irritated me, introduced us.

But I bowed coldly to the well-dressed, elderly impostor, a man with keen, deep-set eyes, and a short, scrubby grey beard, asking of my companion:

“Is this farce really necessary, Mr Kirk, when I know the truth?”

The new-comer looked askance at his accomplice, who gave him a quick, meaning look.

“Ah! my dear Mr Holford!” exclaimed the bogus Professor, “I’ve been most anxious to meet you for a considerable time. This is a great pleasure.”

“And one which I most heartily reciprocate,” was my hard reply. “I’ve been endeavouring to find you for a long time. I followed you in Edinburgh, in Glasgow, and later on in Birmingham.”

“Then surely it is a rather happy circumstance that we have met to-day?” he said, rather fussily.

“Happy for me, but perhaps unhappy for you!” I replied, with a dry laugh.

“Why?”

“Because I now intend to expose your very clever plot. The secret you have sold to Sir Mark Edwards does not belong to you at all, but to Professor Ernest Greer, the man who was killed in the room yonder—in his own laboratory!”

His lips grew paler and set themselves hard. I saw in his dark eyes an expression of fear. He held me in terror—that was quite plain.

“Holford, you are mistaken,” declared Kirk.

“In what way?” I demanded.

“Professor Ernest Greer stands before you!”

“No!” I cried. “This man is the impostor—the impostor who wrote to my wife, and enticed her from her home.”

“I wrote to Mrs Holford, certainly,” was the fellow’s cool reply. “But without any evil intent; of that she will herself assure you.”

“Where is she?”

“You will, no doubt, see her before very long, and she will explain the reason of her absence.”

“Ah!” I said, “you adventurers dare not tell me the truth with your own lips. Remember, I saw the Professor lying dead in this house. You cannot induce me to believe that my eyes deceived me!”

“And yet you see the Professor alive before you now!” declared Kirk with a triumphant laugh.

But I made a gesture of disgust, declaring that I refused to be fooled further.

“You are not being fooled, Mr Holford,” asserted the man in a calm, distinct voice, as he opened the door and called to Antonio.

The grave-eyed manservant entered in a few seconds, and as he did so the new-comer said: “Antonio, will you please tell this gentleman who I am?”

“You are my dear master, signore—the Signor Professor Ernest Greer.”

“I already know, Antonio, that you’re a clever liar,” I cried, “so you can retire.”

“The Signorina Ethelwynn has just arrived, signore,” remarked the highly respectable manservant.

“Ah! then tell my daughter to come up?” he cried. “She will no doubt satisfy Mr Holford that I am no impostor.”

“Miss Ethelwynn saw her father lying dead, as I did; how, therefore, can she identify you as her deceased parent? Have you a half-brother, or some relation strongly resembling you?”

“No, I have not,” was his quick reply. “I am simply Professor Ernest Greer, whom a thousand persons living can identify.”

At that moment the fair-haired girl neatly attired in fur jacket, tailor-made skirt, and toque entered, and, with a spring, fell into the impostor’s arms and kissed him.

That piece of acting was, without doubt, perfect. Yet I stood aside and smiled. Had not Kirk previously admitted to me that his earnest endeavour was to secure my silence?

“Am I your father?” asked the dark-eyed man of Ethelwynn, standing with his hand upon her shoulder.

“Of course you are, dear dad! Why?”

“Because this gentleman will not believe it!” he laughed.

“This is my father, Mr Holford,” the girl declared, turning to me.

“But did not you, with your own eyes, see your father dead in his laboratory?” I asked seriously. “Are you not being misled, as these men are trying to mislead me?” I suggested.

She hesitated, glancing towards the man who posed as the Professor as though expecting him to reply for her.

“No,” I went on, “this is a conspiracy—a plot to place this man in a dead man’s shoes. And you know it, Miss Ethelwynn.”

“I tell you he’s my father!” the girl persisted. “Cannot you believe us?”

“Not without some independent proof,” I said. This persistence angered me.

“Then what proof do you require?” asked the man. “Shall I call the park-keeper at Clarence Gate? He has known me and seen me every day for a number of years.”

“Call him, if you wish,” I said, though, truth to tell, I did not intend to be longer fooled by the ingenious machinations of Kirk and his gang.

Antonio was sent to find the park-keeper, who, in due time, appeared, carrying his gold-laced hat in his hand.

“You’ve known Professor Greer a long time?” I asked the white-headed man.

“Several years, sir,” was his quick reply.

“And do you recognise this gentleman as the Professor?” I asked.

“Certainly, sir; I saw him pass in at the gate this morning. He’s cut off his beard, and that makes a bit of difference to a man, you know!”

He laughed.

“You have no hesitation in identifying him, eh?” I asked. “You’ll be able to swear to him in a court of law?”

“Yes, sir, in any court of law. The Professor’s been very kind to me, once or twice; therefore it isn’t likely that I forget either his face or his voice.”

This bewildered me. Was it possible that this impostor was the Professor’s twin brother? I felt confident that Kirk was continuing some very ingenious conspiracy. Was not his suggestion to me that I should forget the tragedy sufficient proof of double-dealing?

I thanked the park-keeper, who withdrew with Antonio, whereupon Kirk asked me whether I was not satisfied.

“No,” I said, “and I shall never be satisfied until I discover the identity of the man who killed Professor Greer.”

“But Professor Greer stands before you!” declared Ethelwynn; “nobody killed him!”

“So you wish me to believe,” I said with a smile, “but as my secrecy has been demanded on your account, I can only suspect that you were, in some way, implicated in the crime.”

She went pale as death. My words, I saw, had a startling effect upon her. She looked first at Kirk and then at the man posing as her father—the man who had secured many thousands of pounds for a secret that was not his own.

“Then you refuse to accept even the park-keeper’s testimony?” Kirk remarked, while the man who had assumed the Professor’s identity walked across to the writing-table and began looking at some letters lying upon it.

“I do; my intention is to unmask you all!” The impostor, the fading light falling upon his clear-cut countenance, turned quickly, and upon his face rested an expression of deadly fear that I had not previously noticed. Hitherto his attitude had been one of bold unconcern. But now, realising my determination, he had grown alarmed. He saw that he had carried the imposture too far.

“Ethelwynn,” he said, in a low, strained voice, “I—I wish to speak with Mr Holford. Will you leave us for a little while, dear. Go into the Red Room, and we’ll join you there later.”

“My dear sir,” I exclaimed, “I don’t desire to hear any more of your denials.”

“I’ll go, dad, of course,” replied the girl, who, in obedience with his suggestion, left the room.

I turned to follow her, but with a sudden movement he placed himself before the door, exclaiming anxiously:

“Mr Holford, pray hear me for one moment, I beg of you. I want to tell you something—to confess!”

“Ah!” I laughed triumphantly. “At last! you will confess! Good! I am all attention.”

“Listen carefully to the facts, Holford,” urged Kirk. “The Professor’s peril lies in the knowledge possessed by one man—yourself. It is therefore but just that you should know the truth.”

“I do not expect the truth from you,” I laughed. “How can I, after all that has passed?”

“The deceit I’ve practised upon you has been imperative,” was his audacious answer.

“Let me explain,” interrupted the impostor, advancing to the fireplace near which I stood. “First, I repeat that I am Professor Ernest Greer, and that this is my house. My statement can be verified later, but for the present I ask you to accept it as the truth. My old friend here, Kershaw Kirk, is not an adventurer, though he so often poses as such. But it is under necessity, for his real profession is that of a confidential agent of the British Government, the trusted head official of our Intelligence Department.”

At this I smiled incredulously, wondering what fantastic story he was about to relate, for even then I did not recognise him by the photograph I had obtained just before going up to Scotland. He was thinner, and his eyes were quite unlike those of the photograph, being narrower and deeper set.

“The plain facts are as follows,” he went on, after a second’s pause. “I had been experimenting until I had discovered an easy method of obtaining from the air those subtle elements helium and neon. My success had incidentally confirmed Sir William Ramsay’s estimation that the proportion of neon and helium in the atmosphere was about one to two in each hundred thousand, when a suggestion occurred to me that my process of hardening armour-plates might be improved upon, and a substance of great cutting power created. My experiments were long and tedious, but were at last crowned with success. I very foolishly gave, in the French scientific journalCosmos, some account of these experiments, and a month later I was secretly informed by Kirk that the German Government—always our rivals where improvements in war material are concerned—was actively endeavouring to obtain my secret. As you know, I always kept my laboratory locked, and allowed no one within upon any pretext. My only confidante was my daughter Ethelwynn.”

And again he paused, glancing across at where Kirk stood, narrow-eyed and silent.

“Well,” he went on, “after another month had passed, Kirk returned from Germany, where he had been upon a secret mission for the Government, and then he urged me to exercise the greatest care. A very clever German agent, by name Max Leftwich, who had resided in London for some years, had been instructed to obtain my secret at all hazards. Kirk warned me that he was a man of remarkable tact and ability, and that under his control were fully a dozen agents rendering him assistance. It was he who had obtained for his employers in Berlin the secret of our new submarine boat, and who had controlled the survey of the Suffolk coast in view of the coming invasion. I confess that I laughed at Kirk’s fears—fears which were repeated to me by one of the Lords of the Admiralty only a week later. I saw no reason, however, for any serious apprehension. My laboratory was always locked, and could not be entered either from the skylight or conservatory, while the only keys of those double doors were secure upon my chain. But, alas! I had, like many another man, foolishly lulled myself into a sense of false security.”

And he sighed as he again paused.

Chapter Thirty.I Discover much that is Amazing.“Well,” continued the dark-eyed man, “the rude awakening came in the following way. The thirteenth of January was on Sunday. Kirk, who had been engaged in watching the movements of the secret agent Leftwich, sent me a telegram telling me to leave for Edinburgh at 11:30 that evening, and asking me, if I intended to carry out this suggestion, to raise and lower the drawing-room blind three times at a quarter past five. By that I knew that the German agent and his friends had some desperate game afoot and that Kirk, astute and active, intended to prevent them carrying out their object.”“If anyone obtained access to the laboratory, then, they could steal the secret?” I asked.“They could obtain specimens of the steel which might be analysed,” he said. “And these specimens, in conjunction with the written results of my experiments, kept in the safe here, in this room, would, of course, place my process in their hands.”“Then you were acting in obedience with Kirk’s suggestion,” I said. “He wished you to go to Scotland out of the way, eh?”“Exactly. He had previously been ordered by the Government to keep watch over me, for it was known by the Intelligence Department that Germany would make a desperate attempt to obtain the secret of what, to them, would be a most valuable process in the preparation of steel for use in their new navy.”“And you made the signal to Kirk?”“Yes. I told Ethelwynn nothing, fearing to alarm her. I merely remarked that I was compelled to go to Scotland, my intention being to take her with me at the last moment. I did not dress that night, it being Sunday. We dined at eight, and afterwards Antonio packed my bags. After dinner my daughter went up to the drawing-room, while I came in here to the study, in order to write some letters and attend to one or two things before departing. At a quarter to ten I recollected that I should remove a small crucible from the furnace wherein I had placed it that afternoon, and, passing through the Red Room, I found, to my great surprise, the two doors leading to the laboratory had been unlocked, and were slightly ajar.“Suspecting something amiss, I dashed in, to find to my amazement an intruder there—the man Leftwich, dressed exactly to resemble myself! He had in his hand some specimens of the new steel, and as I entered noiselessly he was in the act of bending over a memorandum book, reading some notes I had made that day. You may imagine how amazed I was to see my second self standing there before me! I faced him, demanding to know what he wanted. I saw that he must have entered with keys made from wax impressions somehow taken from my own, and that his object in making up to resemble me was in order to pass upstairs within sight of the watchful Antonio or any of the other servants. Indeed, it was afterwards proved that Antonio saw him pass up immediately after dinner, and believed him to be myself.”“Is this a fact?” I gasped.“The truth,” declared Kirk; “but listen to the end.”“Well,” faltered the Professor, “on being challenged, the man, seeing himself cornered, instantly attacked me with a knife. I closed with him. He tried to kill me and escape. Ah! it was an exciting moment—his life or mine! I shouted, but Antonio did not hear me. The fellow got me by the throat and lifted his hand to strike. He cut my little finger badly. Then suddenly he slipped upon the tiles, and in an instant I had pinned him down. I wrenched the knife from him, and—and I struck him. He—he fell dead in the corner! I stood aghast at what I had done. I had saved the secret—prevented it from falling into the hands of Britain’s enemies, but I had killed the German agent, who had apparently escaped Kirk’s vigilance.“What to do next I did not know,” continued the Professor. “I stood for a few moments horrified at my action. Suddenly it occurred to me that, being dressed exactly like me, it would be believed that I had been assaulted! But his features were not mine, so I took a bottle of highly corrosive acid and flung it into his face, and then exchanged my gold watch and keys for his, and put some of my letters into his pocket. Afterwards I replaced the one or two things that had been disordered in the laboratory, switched off the light, and, leaving the dead spy in the corner, closed both doors, which, as you will see, lock automatically.”“And then?” I asked, amazed at his story.“Then I came in here, put a piece of plaster upon my finger, opened the safe, and took the precious books containing the records of my experiments, in order to make it appear that a robbery had been committed. After washing myself in my room, I strove to preserve an outward calm, and asked Ethelwynn to telephone for a sleeping-berth for me. I had now decided, as there was no further danger of spies, not to take her with me. Just before I left, I came in here and wrote her a letter, telling her I should be absent some months, and instructing her to call Kirk and regard him as her protector during my absence. As I went out I left the note beneath the salver on the hall table, so that it might be discovered by the maid when dusting in the morning. At 11:30 I left King’s Cross for Edinburgh, without, however, being able to communicate with Kirk or tell him what had actually occurred.”“I, on my part, naturally believed that the dead man was the Professor,” Kirk interrupted.“And when were you aware of the truth?” I asked.“The day after I had called you in consultation. I then saw that, in exposing an affair which, at all hazards, must be kept a secret, I had acted most injudiciously. I did not dare to tell you the truth. I went to Edinburgh and found the Professor, who was in hiding, fearful lest the affair should be discovered. He told me exactly what had occurred, and invoked my aid. My agents watched every move you made. They were with you in Edinburgh and in Glasgow. Therefore, I was well aware how strenuously you were seeking a solution of the mystery.”I paused in sheer amazement. As I reflected, I saw that Kirk had been shielding his friend the Professor all along.In reply to my questions, he told me that the reason why he could not satisfactorily prove an alibi if accused of the crime was because at the hour of the tragedy he was engaged upon a mission for the Government, a secret transaction with an agent of another foreign Power which was greatly to our advantage, and betrayal of which would create serious international complications. His allegations of enmity towards the Professor had been made to mystify me.He added, also, that the reason why the Commissioner of Police had not listened to my story was because I had made accusations against him. They knew him at “the Yard,” he added with a laugh, and it was not likely they would dare to make inquiry into his actions.“But I saw Miss Ethelwynn lying dead!” I said, turning to the Professor—for how could I now doubt that it was actually he?“Let my daughter relate her own story,” he said; and, going to the door, he recalled her.“Just tell Mr Holford, dear, what occurred to you on that evening when you returned from your aunt’s,” he said, as she entered the room. “I have confessed to him the truth.”“Well, dad,” she said, “I believed that the man in the laboratory was you yourself. Besides, Mr Kirk believed it to be you. The face was, of course, much disfigured, but the clothes were yours, and in the pockets were your watch and some of your letters. I was insane with grief, and with Morgan, to whom Mr Kirk told a fictitious story, I went to Lady Mellor’s. On the night in question something seemed to prompt me to return home, enter with my latch-key, and go up to the laboratory to make sure that it was really you. I somehow could not believe that you were dead. Remember, I was in the Red Room all night, and you would certainly have awakened me if you had entered and unlocked the door. So I went. I crept in softly, in order that Antonio should not hear me, and, ascending to the laboratory, switched on the light. I examined the body closely. Ah! it was a gruesome sight—but I satisfied myself that it was not you! I crept downstairs, back to the dining-room, but as I entered something was suddenly flung over my head; I smelt a curious odour—it may have been some anaesthetic. I tried to scream, but could not, and in a few moments I became unconscious. When I regained my senses I found myself in a strange house, with Mr Kirk bending over me. I believe I was delirious, for I remember shouting and raving, and charging him with an attempt to kill me. It was impressed upon my unbalanced mind that he had killed my father. But, on the contrary, he was all care and attention. On putting my hand to my face I found upon my cheek a quantity of what seemed like wax, which peeled off in my hand.”“And you afterwards went down to Broadstairs?” I said.“Yes; I went with Morgan on the following day.”“But who had attacked you in the dining-room?”“Ah! that remains to be proved,” replied Kirk. “A desperate attempt was, no doubt, made upon Miss Ethelwynn by somebody who had entered the house secretly for the same purpose as herself—by somebody who suspected that Leftwich had come to an untimely end. The would-be assassin first administered an anaesthetic, and must afterwards have injected with a hypodermic syringe some curious poison, which gave to her all the appearance of death, though the dose was fortunately inefficient. With the remembrance of Leftwich’s features—which he had only seen a few minutes before—being disfigured, it seems that her assailant tried to disfigure hers by pouring upon her face hot wax from the candles alight upon the dining-room table. It was, of course, the act of a person half demented by the desire for revenge.”“And you are unaware of who did this?”“I have a suspicion—a slight suspicion. It is for me to prove its truth.”“You will now see the terrible position in which I have been placed, Mr Holford,” exclaimed Ethelwynn. “I knew that my father had killed a man. Was it surprising, therefore, that I should endeavour to shield him?”“Certainly not,” I said. “You acted only quite naturally. My chief complaint is that you have all kept my wife aloof from me.”“We will speak of that later,” Kirk interrupted. “Let me continue. When I had been up to Edinburgh, and knew that the Professor lived and was in hiding, I returned and set to work to remove all traces of the unfortunate affair. To allow the facts to leak out to the public might have provoked a serious quarrel with the German Government, and I could not afford to allow that. Therefore, on the night when Langton saw the light in the drawing-room, Ethelwynn, who had come up from Broadstairs, Pietro, and myself had made up the furnace, and together we got rid of the gruesome remains, after which we ate a hasty meal.“I had previously sent Antonio to Italy for a holiday, deeming it best in the circumstances that he should be absent. Ethelwynn and Pietro had left the house, when, of a sudden, I heard the bell, and, peeping out, saw Langton at the door. It was an exciting moment. The young man had, I knew, had his suspicions aroused by meeting Antonio at Calais, for Antonio had wired me that he had been recognised. So I waited until you, very fortunately, came, and allowed me to escape.”For a moment I was silent. Then I said: “You’ll remember when we returned to Bath Road after my first visit to Sussex Place you were rung up on the telephone. The message caused you great alarm. What was it?”“Antonio told me of his suspicions that the dead man was not the Professor,” was his reply.“And on your second visit to this house you signalled by the blind of the drawing-room, as the Professor had done.”“I signalled to Pietro, who was out in the fog, that you were still with me. He had, of course, been with Ethelwynn to Foley Street, and I was about to go there.”“And, tell me, what connection had Doctor Flynn with the affair?” I demanded, utterly astounded at the very remarkable story unfolded.“Listen—and I’ll tell you the whole truth,” Kirk said; and, pausing, he looked at both father and daughter, as though to obtain their consent to make further revelations, and thereby elucidate what was certainly the most extraordinary mystery of modern times.What I had heard was startling enough, in all conscience, but what I was yet to learn was still more astounding, as you will see.

“Well,” continued the dark-eyed man, “the rude awakening came in the following way. The thirteenth of January was on Sunday. Kirk, who had been engaged in watching the movements of the secret agent Leftwich, sent me a telegram telling me to leave for Edinburgh at 11:30 that evening, and asking me, if I intended to carry out this suggestion, to raise and lower the drawing-room blind three times at a quarter past five. By that I knew that the German agent and his friends had some desperate game afoot and that Kirk, astute and active, intended to prevent them carrying out their object.”

“If anyone obtained access to the laboratory, then, they could steal the secret?” I asked.

“They could obtain specimens of the steel which might be analysed,” he said. “And these specimens, in conjunction with the written results of my experiments, kept in the safe here, in this room, would, of course, place my process in their hands.”

“Then you were acting in obedience with Kirk’s suggestion,” I said. “He wished you to go to Scotland out of the way, eh?”

“Exactly. He had previously been ordered by the Government to keep watch over me, for it was known by the Intelligence Department that Germany would make a desperate attempt to obtain the secret of what, to them, would be a most valuable process in the preparation of steel for use in their new navy.”

“And you made the signal to Kirk?”

“Yes. I told Ethelwynn nothing, fearing to alarm her. I merely remarked that I was compelled to go to Scotland, my intention being to take her with me at the last moment. I did not dress that night, it being Sunday. We dined at eight, and afterwards Antonio packed my bags. After dinner my daughter went up to the drawing-room, while I came in here to the study, in order to write some letters and attend to one or two things before departing. At a quarter to ten I recollected that I should remove a small crucible from the furnace wherein I had placed it that afternoon, and, passing through the Red Room, I found, to my great surprise, the two doors leading to the laboratory had been unlocked, and were slightly ajar.

“Suspecting something amiss, I dashed in, to find to my amazement an intruder there—the man Leftwich, dressed exactly to resemble myself! He had in his hand some specimens of the new steel, and as I entered noiselessly he was in the act of bending over a memorandum book, reading some notes I had made that day. You may imagine how amazed I was to see my second self standing there before me! I faced him, demanding to know what he wanted. I saw that he must have entered with keys made from wax impressions somehow taken from my own, and that his object in making up to resemble me was in order to pass upstairs within sight of the watchful Antonio or any of the other servants. Indeed, it was afterwards proved that Antonio saw him pass up immediately after dinner, and believed him to be myself.”

“Is this a fact?” I gasped.

“The truth,” declared Kirk; “but listen to the end.”

“Well,” faltered the Professor, “on being challenged, the man, seeing himself cornered, instantly attacked me with a knife. I closed with him. He tried to kill me and escape. Ah! it was an exciting moment—his life or mine! I shouted, but Antonio did not hear me. The fellow got me by the throat and lifted his hand to strike. He cut my little finger badly. Then suddenly he slipped upon the tiles, and in an instant I had pinned him down. I wrenched the knife from him, and—and I struck him. He—he fell dead in the corner! I stood aghast at what I had done. I had saved the secret—prevented it from falling into the hands of Britain’s enemies, but I had killed the German agent, who had apparently escaped Kirk’s vigilance.

“What to do next I did not know,” continued the Professor. “I stood for a few moments horrified at my action. Suddenly it occurred to me that, being dressed exactly like me, it would be believed that I had been assaulted! But his features were not mine, so I took a bottle of highly corrosive acid and flung it into his face, and then exchanged my gold watch and keys for his, and put some of my letters into his pocket. Afterwards I replaced the one or two things that had been disordered in the laboratory, switched off the light, and, leaving the dead spy in the corner, closed both doors, which, as you will see, lock automatically.”

“And then?” I asked, amazed at his story.

“Then I came in here, put a piece of plaster upon my finger, opened the safe, and took the precious books containing the records of my experiments, in order to make it appear that a robbery had been committed. After washing myself in my room, I strove to preserve an outward calm, and asked Ethelwynn to telephone for a sleeping-berth for me. I had now decided, as there was no further danger of spies, not to take her with me. Just before I left, I came in here and wrote her a letter, telling her I should be absent some months, and instructing her to call Kirk and regard him as her protector during my absence. As I went out I left the note beneath the salver on the hall table, so that it might be discovered by the maid when dusting in the morning. At 11:30 I left King’s Cross for Edinburgh, without, however, being able to communicate with Kirk or tell him what had actually occurred.”

“I, on my part, naturally believed that the dead man was the Professor,” Kirk interrupted.

“And when were you aware of the truth?” I asked.

“The day after I had called you in consultation. I then saw that, in exposing an affair which, at all hazards, must be kept a secret, I had acted most injudiciously. I did not dare to tell you the truth. I went to Edinburgh and found the Professor, who was in hiding, fearful lest the affair should be discovered. He told me exactly what had occurred, and invoked my aid. My agents watched every move you made. They were with you in Edinburgh and in Glasgow. Therefore, I was well aware how strenuously you were seeking a solution of the mystery.”

I paused in sheer amazement. As I reflected, I saw that Kirk had been shielding his friend the Professor all along.

In reply to my questions, he told me that the reason why he could not satisfactorily prove an alibi if accused of the crime was because at the hour of the tragedy he was engaged upon a mission for the Government, a secret transaction with an agent of another foreign Power which was greatly to our advantage, and betrayal of which would create serious international complications. His allegations of enmity towards the Professor had been made to mystify me.

He added, also, that the reason why the Commissioner of Police had not listened to my story was because I had made accusations against him. They knew him at “the Yard,” he added with a laugh, and it was not likely they would dare to make inquiry into his actions.

“But I saw Miss Ethelwynn lying dead!” I said, turning to the Professor—for how could I now doubt that it was actually he?

“Let my daughter relate her own story,” he said; and, going to the door, he recalled her.

“Just tell Mr Holford, dear, what occurred to you on that evening when you returned from your aunt’s,” he said, as she entered the room. “I have confessed to him the truth.”

“Well, dad,” she said, “I believed that the man in the laboratory was you yourself. Besides, Mr Kirk believed it to be you. The face was, of course, much disfigured, but the clothes were yours, and in the pockets were your watch and some of your letters. I was insane with grief, and with Morgan, to whom Mr Kirk told a fictitious story, I went to Lady Mellor’s. On the night in question something seemed to prompt me to return home, enter with my latch-key, and go up to the laboratory to make sure that it was really you. I somehow could not believe that you were dead. Remember, I was in the Red Room all night, and you would certainly have awakened me if you had entered and unlocked the door. So I went. I crept in softly, in order that Antonio should not hear me, and, ascending to the laboratory, switched on the light. I examined the body closely. Ah! it was a gruesome sight—but I satisfied myself that it was not you! I crept downstairs, back to the dining-room, but as I entered something was suddenly flung over my head; I smelt a curious odour—it may have been some anaesthetic. I tried to scream, but could not, and in a few moments I became unconscious. When I regained my senses I found myself in a strange house, with Mr Kirk bending over me. I believe I was delirious, for I remember shouting and raving, and charging him with an attempt to kill me. It was impressed upon my unbalanced mind that he had killed my father. But, on the contrary, he was all care and attention. On putting my hand to my face I found upon my cheek a quantity of what seemed like wax, which peeled off in my hand.”

“And you afterwards went down to Broadstairs?” I said.

“Yes; I went with Morgan on the following day.”

“But who had attacked you in the dining-room?”

“Ah! that remains to be proved,” replied Kirk. “A desperate attempt was, no doubt, made upon Miss Ethelwynn by somebody who had entered the house secretly for the same purpose as herself—by somebody who suspected that Leftwich had come to an untimely end. The would-be assassin first administered an anaesthetic, and must afterwards have injected with a hypodermic syringe some curious poison, which gave to her all the appearance of death, though the dose was fortunately inefficient. With the remembrance of Leftwich’s features—which he had only seen a few minutes before—being disfigured, it seems that her assailant tried to disfigure hers by pouring upon her face hot wax from the candles alight upon the dining-room table. It was, of course, the act of a person half demented by the desire for revenge.”

“And you are unaware of who did this?”

“I have a suspicion—a slight suspicion. It is for me to prove its truth.”

“You will now see the terrible position in which I have been placed, Mr Holford,” exclaimed Ethelwynn. “I knew that my father had killed a man. Was it surprising, therefore, that I should endeavour to shield him?”

“Certainly not,” I said. “You acted only quite naturally. My chief complaint is that you have all kept my wife aloof from me.”

“We will speak of that later,” Kirk interrupted. “Let me continue. When I had been up to Edinburgh, and knew that the Professor lived and was in hiding, I returned and set to work to remove all traces of the unfortunate affair. To allow the facts to leak out to the public might have provoked a serious quarrel with the German Government, and I could not afford to allow that. Therefore, on the night when Langton saw the light in the drawing-room, Ethelwynn, who had come up from Broadstairs, Pietro, and myself had made up the furnace, and together we got rid of the gruesome remains, after which we ate a hasty meal.

“I had previously sent Antonio to Italy for a holiday, deeming it best in the circumstances that he should be absent. Ethelwynn and Pietro had left the house, when, of a sudden, I heard the bell, and, peeping out, saw Langton at the door. It was an exciting moment. The young man had, I knew, had his suspicions aroused by meeting Antonio at Calais, for Antonio had wired me that he had been recognised. So I waited until you, very fortunately, came, and allowed me to escape.”

For a moment I was silent. Then I said: “You’ll remember when we returned to Bath Road after my first visit to Sussex Place you were rung up on the telephone. The message caused you great alarm. What was it?”

“Antonio told me of his suspicions that the dead man was not the Professor,” was his reply.

“And on your second visit to this house you signalled by the blind of the drawing-room, as the Professor had done.”

“I signalled to Pietro, who was out in the fog, that you were still with me. He had, of course, been with Ethelwynn to Foley Street, and I was about to go there.”

“And, tell me, what connection had Doctor Flynn with the affair?” I demanded, utterly astounded at the very remarkable story unfolded.

“Listen—and I’ll tell you the whole truth,” Kirk said; and, pausing, he looked at both father and daughter, as though to obtain their consent to make further revelations, and thereby elucidate what was certainly the most extraordinary mystery of modern times.

What I had heard was startling enough, in all conscience, but what I was yet to learn was still more astounding, as you will see.

Chapter Thirty One.I am again Perplexed.As we spoke, Antonio entered, and handed his master a note, which, on reading, he handed in turn to Kirk.“You’ll go, I suppose?” he asked the Professor.“I think so,” was Greer’s reply. “I’ll cross to-night. But if I go, I must first run into the City to see Meyrick,” and he glanced at his watch, exclaiming, “By Jove! I must be off!” Then, turning to Antonio, he ordered a taxi.“I hope, Mr Holford,” he said, turning to me, “I hope that I’ve now convinced you that I’m no impostor, and that I am actually Professor Ernest Greer in the flesh.”“You have,” I admitted; “there are, however, several points which are not yet clear to me.”“My good friend Kirk, here, will make them clear, I’m sure,” he said. “The only service I beg of you is that of complete and absolute silence. It was the German’s life or mine. He attacked me murderously with a knife, and what I did was—God knows!—only in self-defence. Yet—yet the public must know nothing. It is for fear of you, that you might learn the truth and expose the affair to the Press, that I have lived in perpetual anxiety, travelling constantly from place to place, in the hope that you would still regard me as the impostor. While you believed that, I had nothing to fear. My daughter has, indeed, threatened to commit suicide if the public are told that I killed the man who tried to steal my secret. To her, your silence means love and life!”“Yes, Mr Holford,” declared the girl anxiously; “Leonard does not know the truth. If he did, he would surely discard me as the daughter of a murderer. Indeed, I could never again hold up my head. I believe implicitly in my dear father’s version of the affair—yet his enemies surely would not! Will you, at least, give me your promise?” she implored.I hesitated. I was not altogether clear upon many points.“When I have seen my wife and consulted with her I will give you an answer, Miss Greer,” I said. “I admit that what I have learnt to-day has held me in surprise and removed many doubts from my mind.”Kirk was explaining how the tiny golden doll, the little charm which had been discovered after the tragedy, had been traced through the well-known jeweller in Bond Street who made it, to the Professor as purchaser; and how Greer had admitted buying it for the purpose of giving to Ethelwynn to hang upon her bracelet. But he had lost it on the previous day. Therefore it was not a clue to the assassin, as we had at first suspected.Just then the grave-eyed Antonio reopened the door, bowing, and announcing to his master that the motor-cab was at the door.Thereupon Professor Greer shook my hand, with a parting appeal to me to preserve silence.“You will, no doubt, meet your wife ere long, and she will explain much which is to you still a mystery. Remember that her devotion to you was the cause of her absence. She believed that you were in danger. That story was told her to keep her away from you, and thus draw you off the inquiry in which we feared you might be only too successful. Adieu, Mr Holford! When I return, in a week’s time, I hope you will come and have a further chat with me. In the meantime, I can only beg you to forgive me for being the unwilling means of causing you either horror, annoyance, or anxiety.”And, with a hurried good-bye to the others, he turned and left the room.“A point upon which I require elucidation,” I said, turning to Kirk, “is the reason why you and those other men were so inquisitive regarding the new Eckhardt tyre.”“Why I called to see the tyre was simple enough,” he said. “Max Leftwich was posing as the inventor of the tyre in question, and thereby trying to disguise his real profession of German secret agent. But as I had come across him in Berlin three years before in the guise of a small money-lender, I doubted his inventive genius. I came to you in order to examine the Eckhardt tyre, and I satisfied myself that Leftwich’s tyre was a mere worthless imitation. My assistants also came to your garage for the same purpose, just as I predicted they would. Leftwich had opened a depot in Charing Cross Road for the sale of motor accessories, and the ‘improved Eckhardt tyre’ was one of the inventions he claimed to be his.”“But you also had a further motive?” I suggested.“Certainly, Holford,” was his quick reply. “I confess that I had watched you for a year, and I felt that I could rely upon you. I wished to enlist your services as one of my assistants, and to initiate you into work for which the Government would pay well. It would assuredly have been worth your while to leave your business to the care of your manager, Mr Pelham, and take service in the department of which I hold control. But, remember, when I asked you to come here, even I was deceived. I believed that my friend Greer, with whom I had had a slight quarrel a few weeks before, was dead. When I found what had really occurred, I saw that the only danger lay in your discovering the truth. Hence all that tangled chain of subterfuges.”“But surely the Professor might, even now, be charged with murder—or at least with manslaughter!” I remarked.“My father may, Mr Holford, if you do not preserve his terrible secret!” cried Ethelwynn. “Upon you alone depends all the future!”Once again I demanded the truth concerning Mabel and news of her whereabouts, but all Kirk would tell me was what Greer had already said—only a promise that we should meet, and that when we did she would make full and ample explanation.I returned to Bath Road utterly bewildered, and, seated with Gwen, related to her the whole facts from the first, just as I have here recounted them.She sat staring at me open-mouthed.“But where is Mabel?” she cried in alarm. “The Professor and the others have returned from abroad, yet she is still absent. Will they accord you no satisfaction?”“None!” I replied with a weary sigh. “I don’t know, after all, whether to accept what has been related to me, or whether to disbelieve it.”“The fact that the police refused to inquire into your story, Harry, seems sufficient proof that this man Kirk is a powerful and influential person. Indeed, does it not tend to confirm the story that the Professor did not die, and that he really killed the German in self-defence?”I admitted that it did. And then I made up my mind that, as Kirk would give me no satisfaction concerning Mabel, I, on my part, would decline to enter into any bond of secrecy.My wife was worth far more to me than any international complication. What was Germany’s wrath at being foiled in her dastardly attempt to obtain the secret of the new steel, to Mabel’s honour and her love?Two lagging days had gone by.Kershaw Kirk had called in the evening about seven o’clock, but I refused to see him. I sent word by Annie that I was out driving a car.“Tell Mr Holford to come in and see me the instant he returns. I must speak to him at the earliest possible moment,” he had said. And this was the message which the maid had brought to me when the astute official of the British Government had left.Just before ten I entered Kirk’s close little den. He was seated in his bead slippers and old velvet coat, while behind him stood the grey parrot, which screeched loudly as Miss Kirk opened the door to admit me.Seated opposite him, near the fire, was Leonard Langton, pale-faced and grave.“Ah, Holford!” cried Kirk, springing from his chair, sharp-eyed and alert. “I called on you some time ago. I wanted to—to make an announcement to you,” he added, with a slight catch in his voice, I thought.“Of what?”He took from his table a long telegram. I recognised that it was from the Continent by the fact that it was on green “tape” pasted upon a form. Attached to it was a square, dark red label, bearing the words, “Government telegram: with priority.”“Read that!” he said simply.

As we spoke, Antonio entered, and handed his master a note, which, on reading, he handed in turn to Kirk.

“You’ll go, I suppose?” he asked the Professor.

“I think so,” was Greer’s reply. “I’ll cross to-night. But if I go, I must first run into the City to see Meyrick,” and he glanced at his watch, exclaiming, “By Jove! I must be off!” Then, turning to Antonio, he ordered a taxi.

“I hope, Mr Holford,” he said, turning to me, “I hope that I’ve now convinced you that I’m no impostor, and that I am actually Professor Ernest Greer in the flesh.”

“You have,” I admitted; “there are, however, several points which are not yet clear to me.”

“My good friend Kirk, here, will make them clear, I’m sure,” he said. “The only service I beg of you is that of complete and absolute silence. It was the German’s life or mine. He attacked me murderously with a knife, and what I did was—God knows!—only in self-defence. Yet—yet the public must know nothing. It is for fear of you, that you might learn the truth and expose the affair to the Press, that I have lived in perpetual anxiety, travelling constantly from place to place, in the hope that you would still regard me as the impostor. While you believed that, I had nothing to fear. My daughter has, indeed, threatened to commit suicide if the public are told that I killed the man who tried to steal my secret. To her, your silence means love and life!”

“Yes, Mr Holford,” declared the girl anxiously; “Leonard does not know the truth. If he did, he would surely discard me as the daughter of a murderer. Indeed, I could never again hold up my head. I believe implicitly in my dear father’s version of the affair—yet his enemies surely would not! Will you, at least, give me your promise?” she implored.

I hesitated. I was not altogether clear upon many points.

“When I have seen my wife and consulted with her I will give you an answer, Miss Greer,” I said. “I admit that what I have learnt to-day has held me in surprise and removed many doubts from my mind.”

Kirk was explaining how the tiny golden doll, the little charm which had been discovered after the tragedy, had been traced through the well-known jeweller in Bond Street who made it, to the Professor as purchaser; and how Greer had admitted buying it for the purpose of giving to Ethelwynn to hang upon her bracelet. But he had lost it on the previous day. Therefore it was not a clue to the assassin, as we had at first suspected.

Just then the grave-eyed Antonio reopened the door, bowing, and announcing to his master that the motor-cab was at the door.

Thereupon Professor Greer shook my hand, with a parting appeal to me to preserve silence.

“You will, no doubt, meet your wife ere long, and she will explain much which is to you still a mystery. Remember that her devotion to you was the cause of her absence. She believed that you were in danger. That story was told her to keep her away from you, and thus draw you off the inquiry in which we feared you might be only too successful. Adieu, Mr Holford! When I return, in a week’s time, I hope you will come and have a further chat with me. In the meantime, I can only beg you to forgive me for being the unwilling means of causing you either horror, annoyance, or anxiety.”

And, with a hurried good-bye to the others, he turned and left the room.

“A point upon which I require elucidation,” I said, turning to Kirk, “is the reason why you and those other men were so inquisitive regarding the new Eckhardt tyre.”

“Why I called to see the tyre was simple enough,” he said. “Max Leftwich was posing as the inventor of the tyre in question, and thereby trying to disguise his real profession of German secret agent. But as I had come across him in Berlin three years before in the guise of a small money-lender, I doubted his inventive genius. I came to you in order to examine the Eckhardt tyre, and I satisfied myself that Leftwich’s tyre was a mere worthless imitation. My assistants also came to your garage for the same purpose, just as I predicted they would. Leftwich had opened a depot in Charing Cross Road for the sale of motor accessories, and the ‘improved Eckhardt tyre’ was one of the inventions he claimed to be his.”

“But you also had a further motive?” I suggested.

“Certainly, Holford,” was his quick reply. “I confess that I had watched you for a year, and I felt that I could rely upon you. I wished to enlist your services as one of my assistants, and to initiate you into work for which the Government would pay well. It would assuredly have been worth your while to leave your business to the care of your manager, Mr Pelham, and take service in the department of which I hold control. But, remember, when I asked you to come here, even I was deceived. I believed that my friend Greer, with whom I had had a slight quarrel a few weeks before, was dead. When I found what had really occurred, I saw that the only danger lay in your discovering the truth. Hence all that tangled chain of subterfuges.”

“But surely the Professor might, even now, be charged with murder—or at least with manslaughter!” I remarked.

“My father may, Mr Holford, if you do not preserve his terrible secret!” cried Ethelwynn. “Upon you alone depends all the future!”

Once again I demanded the truth concerning Mabel and news of her whereabouts, but all Kirk would tell me was what Greer had already said—only a promise that we should meet, and that when we did she would make full and ample explanation.

I returned to Bath Road utterly bewildered, and, seated with Gwen, related to her the whole facts from the first, just as I have here recounted them.

She sat staring at me open-mouthed.

“But where is Mabel?” she cried in alarm. “The Professor and the others have returned from abroad, yet she is still absent. Will they accord you no satisfaction?”

“None!” I replied with a weary sigh. “I don’t know, after all, whether to accept what has been related to me, or whether to disbelieve it.”

“The fact that the police refused to inquire into your story, Harry, seems sufficient proof that this man Kirk is a powerful and influential person. Indeed, does it not tend to confirm the story that the Professor did not die, and that he really killed the German in self-defence?”

I admitted that it did. And then I made up my mind that, as Kirk would give me no satisfaction concerning Mabel, I, on my part, would decline to enter into any bond of secrecy.

My wife was worth far more to me than any international complication. What was Germany’s wrath at being foiled in her dastardly attempt to obtain the secret of the new steel, to Mabel’s honour and her love?

Two lagging days had gone by.

Kershaw Kirk had called in the evening about seven o’clock, but I refused to see him. I sent word by Annie that I was out driving a car.

“Tell Mr Holford to come in and see me the instant he returns. I must speak to him at the earliest possible moment,” he had said. And this was the message which the maid had brought to me when the astute official of the British Government had left.

Just before ten I entered Kirk’s close little den. He was seated in his bead slippers and old velvet coat, while behind him stood the grey parrot, which screeched loudly as Miss Kirk opened the door to admit me.

Seated opposite him, near the fire, was Leonard Langton, pale-faced and grave.

“Ah, Holford!” cried Kirk, springing from his chair, sharp-eyed and alert. “I called on you some time ago. I wanted to—to make an announcement to you,” he added, with a slight catch in his voice, I thought.

“Of what?”

He took from his table a long telegram. I recognised that it was from the Continent by the fact that it was on green “tape” pasted upon a form. Attached to it was a square, dark red label, bearing the words, “Government telegram: with priority.”

“Read that!” he said simply.

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