"We find that Professor Carter was wilfully murdered by some person or persons unknown."
The foreman of the jury, a stout, pompous little man who was evidently pleased with his temporary importance, announced the verdict in a loud and impressive voice.
A moment's silence followed as the Coroner wrote down the words, and then, amid a general murmur of voices and shuffling of papers, the crowded court commenced to break up.
Colin, who was sitting on one of the back benches, remained in his place while the building slowly emptied itself. At last, just as it was clearing, the Inspector and Mr. Medwin appeared together in the gangway, and, picking up his hat, he stepped out to join them.
The solicitor was the first to speak.
"An unsatisfactory verdict," he observed, "but, considering the entire lack of any definite evidence, I suppose it was the only one that could be expected."
"I've no complaint to make," remarked Marsden. "I should say that it summed up the situation exactly."
"Well, you're as much concerned with finding out the truth as either of us," returned the other, "but I must confess to being a little disappointed that we've made no further progress. It seems extraordinary that a crime like this can be committed, and that there should be absolutely no clue to the murderer."
"It's a remarkable case all round," agreed Marsden. "One of its most peculiar features is the fact that no one has yet come forward to claim relationship with the Professor. I suppose you've discovered nothing fresh about his private affairs since our conversation yesterday?"
"Nothing," was the answer. "If I had I should have informed the Coroner. My own opinion is that before long we are bound to get on the right track, and in the meanwhile the only thing to do is to go on with the business of winding up the estate. I am working in conjunction with the solicitor for the Treasury, and he assures me that we shall be allowed plenty of time to make the most exhaustive inquiries before the Crown takes any steps to put forward a claim." He turned to Colin. "By the way, I wanted to have a talk with you, Gray," he added. "I understand that your arrangement with the Professor was only a verbal one, but, all the same, I think you are at least entitled to six months' salary. I will discuss the point with the Treasury, and, should they raise no objection, I will take the responsibility of forwarding you a cheque."
"It's very good of you," said Colin coolly, "but if you won't think me ungrateful I would much prefer that you allowed the matter to drop. I am not in need of money, and the small amount of work I did has already been exceedingly well paid for."
Mr. Medwin smiled benevolently.
"Just as you please," he observed. "It's refreshing to come across any one who takes such a modest and unmercenary view of their services." He paused. "I have no idea what your plans are," he continued, "but should you be anxious to obtain some particular appointment I shall be only too delighted to do anything I can to assist you. I know that Mr. Carter entertained the very highest opinion of your abilities."
"I am not looking out for a new job at present," replied Colin bluntly. "I am going to find the man who murdered the Professor. There'll be time enough to think about my own affairs after he's been tried and hanged."
As he spoke the court clock chimed the hour, and with a sudden air of surprise Mr. Medwin pulled out his watch.
"One o'clock," he exclaimed. "I didn't realize it was so late. I have promised to lunch with a client of mine, so I'm afraid I must hurry off." He shook hands with each of them in turn. "I need hardly say I wish you both every success in your investigations. You will no doubt keep me informed of any discoveries you make, and sooner or later, if we all work together, I feel convinced that the truth will come out."
With a friendly nod he turned toward the door, and the next moment Colin and the Inspector were left alone.
"I don't know why it is," said Colin. "I've nothing against that chap, but somehow or other I feel dead certain that he's a wrong 'un."
"We shall be very unpopular if we stop and discuss the matter here," replied Marsden. "They've been waiting to shut the court for the last five minutes."
"Well, suppose we go and have some lunch," suggested Colin. "I know quite a decent place round the corner in the High Street, and there are one or two things I'd like to have a talk about if you're not in a great hurry."
"I was going to propose it myself," replied Marsden. "I've got one of our men coming down to take some photographs at the Red Lodge this afternoon. He'll be along about a quarter to two, so that will just spin out the time until he arrives."
They left the court, and a few minutes later they were seated at a table in a discreet little French restaurant, the stout proprietress of which greeted Colin with a motherly and familiar smile.
"It's curious you should have said that about our legal friend," began Marsden, as soon as they had given their order. "I don't set much store myself on what people call instincts; I've seen too many of 'em go wrong. All the same, from the moment I clapped my eyes on this fellow Medwin I've had a sort of feeling that he was keeping something up his sleeve."
"Something to do with the murder?" demanded Colin.
Marsden broke off a bit of crust and chewed it thoughtfully.
"On the whole I should say not," he replied. "There's no getting away from the fact that he was knocked all of a heap when he heard the news. I'm more inclined to think that he's up to some hanky-panky with regard to the old man's money. He may have a notion who the rightful heirs are, and, if so, he's probably lying low with the idea of making a bit out of it himself."
"What sort of a standing has he got in his profession?" asked Colin.
"Oh, good enough as far as it goes," returned the detective. "Still, I thought there'd be no harm in making a few inquiries, so I've asked Ainsworth to tackle the job himself. It will have to be done carefully, of course; if Medwin got wind of the fact he'd probably kick up the devil of a dust."
"Are you any further on at all with regard to the murder?" asked Colin.
Marsden gave a warning glance in the direction of the returning waiter, and for several minutes the two of them remained silent, while a deftly moving Italian attended to their needs.
"There's no point in informing the rest of the world," remarked Marsden, as soon as they were alone again, "but, to tell you the truth, we seem to be up against a blank wall. I didn't say too much to the Coroner, chiefly on account of the newspapers. Some of them are always waiting for a chance to dig out the old stunt about the incompetence of Scotland Yard, so in a case like this it's just as well to give the impression that we're keeping something in the background. As a matter of cold fact, I only wish we were."
"What about those pet black sheep of yours?" inquired Colin. "Haven't you succeeded in rounding them up yet?"
"Oh, we've rounded 'em up all right. We've scraped through our list of regulars with a fine pocket-comb, and if any of them had so much as a finger in the job I'll eat my hat in this restaurant."
"Then you've changed your opinion?" said Colin. "You're beginning to believe——"
Marsden shook his head. "No," he interrupted doggedly, "I'll stake my reputation that the man who opened the lock of that safe was a professional cracksman. He may have been a foreigner, of course, and if that's the case it would account for the fact that none of our people here know anything about him. However, I've cabled to Paris and New York, and several other places, to ask them if any of their own experts are missing, and it's quite possible I may get an answer from them that will put us on the right track. If I do I'll send you along a line." He paused to refill his glass. "By the way," he added, "where shall I be able to find you?"
"I've taken a room at the Kensington Palace Hotel for a day or two," said Colin. "I've really made no plans yet. As I told Medwin, I mean to see this thing through before I attempt to settle down to any fresh work." He pushed away his plate, the contents of which he had hardly tasted, and lighted himself a cigarette. "How about the Professor's old servant?" he asked. "Any news of him yet?"
"That's another of our failures," admitted the detective wryly. "Ainsworth's men have been ransacking the country, but so far they seem to have drawn an absolute blank." He stopped suddenly, and, putting his hand in his pocket, produced a rather crumpled envelope. "Talking of Ainsworth, I've got something here for you. It's the report we promised you the other day about some party you wanted us to look up. I'd have posted it on before only you told me that you weren't in any particular hurry."
He passed over the note, and, hastily expressing his thanks, Colin tore open the flap. In the rush and excitement of recent events his interest in Major Fenton had been temporarily forgotten, but the mere mention of the subject was quite sufficient to arouse all his previous curiosity.
He extracted the sheet of paper which the envelope contained, and, unfolding it with eager fingers, spread it out before him on the table. It was just a single page of neat typewriting, without any address or date.
Major F. is the only son of the late John Mordaunt F., of Cheltenham, Glos. He is forty-three years of age. He was educated at Cheltenham College. Entered the 17th Lancers, but resigned his commission as a captain on account of financial difficulties. Was in India for several years and also in Canada. It is believed that he was chiefly engaged in training and selling polo ponies. Rejoined the Service during the war and rose to his present rank. Since then his only occupation appears to have been betting at race-meetings. He is connected with an undesirable element on the Turf, and his general reputation is not of the best. As far as this country is concerned, however, there is no record of his having been connected with any criminal proceedings. He is an amateur yachtsman, and the registered owner of a small auxiliary engined boat called The Swallow, which is at present lying in Hole Haven.
This paper is to be destroyed as soon as its contents have been noted.
As Colin reached the concluding paragraph the Inspector rose from his chair.
"I hope you've got the information you wanted," he said. "I must be off now, or I shall be late for my appointment. Are you coming along up to the house?"
Colin thrust away the paper in his inside pocket.
"As a matter of fact," he said, "I'd half promised to go down to Shadwell. My pal, the doctor there, is very keen to know the result of the inquest. Still, if there's any way in which I can be of help——"
Marsden beckoned to the waiter.
"No, no," he interrupted. "You stick to your arrangement. We're only going to take a few photographs of the study, just to show the exact position in which the body was lying. They may come in useful later on."
He asked for the bill, which, in spite of Colin's protest, he insisted upon paying, and, leaving the restaurant, they stepped out on to the crowded pavement.
"I'm making for the station," explained Colin. "My car's having some new valves fitted, so I shall go down by train."
"Well, so long for the present," was the Inspector's reply. "I'll let you know at the hotel directly there's any news, and if you should want to get in touch with me yourself you've only got to ring up the Yard. Even if I'm not there they can always send me a message."
With a parting handshake he disappeared among the traffic, and a few minutes later, having purchased a ticket for Shadwell, Colin was descending the steps which led down to the underground railway.
As the train rumbled eastward he again pulled out the paper which Marsden had handed him, and read it through carefully a second time. Brief though it was, it certainly presented Major Fenton in a far from flattering light. Apart from its own uncomplimentary phrases, it suggested that the account of himself which he had given to Nancy was probably quite untrue. Whatever his exact reasons for going abroad might have been, it was clear that they had nothing to do with the demands of military service. That he had only returned to England in the spring was also apparently a piece of deliberate fiction. Unless the police were wrong, he had been a conspicuous figure at race meetings ever since the conclusion of the war; conspicuous, too, in a fashion which seemed to clash rather badly with the chivalrous role he had adopted in his relations toward Nancy.
Had he really been acquainted with her father at all? It was a question which Colin had already asked himself on several occasions, and in view of what he had just read his doubts on the subject became more pronounced than ever. The details of the story were so improbable, and the professed motive so extremely unlikely, that in the absence of any other evidence except the Major's own statement all his beliefs inclined in the opposite direction.
It seemed to him that Nancy ought certainly to be enlightened concerning the somewhat unreliable nature of her "guardian's" claims. The job was not a particularly attractive one, for she had given him no authority to make inquiries, and the character of an unauthorized Paul Pry is about the last that any one would wish to assume. Besides, there was the awkward fact that Fenton had already cautioned Nancy against him, and it might well appear to a third person that in bringing this counter-charge he was merely gratifying his own private resentment.
Still, even at the risk of being misunderstood it was clearly his duty to put her on her guard. He would show her the report, and tell her frankly how it had come into his possession, and if the consequences proved to be unfortunate he must put up with them as best he could.
It was at the precise moment when he had arrived at this decision that the train ran into Whitechapel station. He got out in company with a number of other passengers bound for the less fashionable quarters of East End London, and, crossing the line by a covered bridge, descended into the narrow and dimly lit vault where passengers to Shadwell await their destiny.
As he reached the platform the figure of a man sitting by himself on a solitary bench suddenly attracted his attention, and, stepping promptly forward to the seat, he gave its occupant a sounding slap on the shoulder.
"Cheer up, Joe," he said. "There's sure to be a train some time to-day."
Mr. Joseph Bates—for it was none other than the ex-pugilist—jumped to his feet with a grin of welcome.
"Well, I'm blarsted," he exclaimed. "Caught me proper, that you did, sir. Who'd ever have thought o' meeting you 'ere?"
He held out a large and not over-clean hand, which Colin shook heartily.
"I was just saying to meself only yesterday," continued Joe, "some time when I get a free mornin' I must do a trip up to the 'orspital an' tell the doctor abaht my bit o' good luck."
"What's that?" demanded Colin, taking a seat beside him on the bench. "Have you fallen in love, or is somebody offering you a job at a brewery?"
"You'd never guess," returned Joe with a chuckle, "not if you was to try for a month o' Sundays." He removed a short clay pipe from the corner of his mouth and spat contentedly on to the platform. "I gorn back into the perfession, guv'nor, that's wot I done."
Colin eyed him incredulously. "That's a good one, Joe," he observed. "Who are you going to fight—Jack Dempsey?"
"'Tain't a joke, guv'nor. I'm back in the old business again, gospel truth I am, but not as wot you might call a principal." He paused, as though to give full weight to his coming disclosure. "You've 'eard tell o' Solly Moss and the Palace o' Sport?"
"What, the new boxing ring in Whitechapel?"
"That's it—that's the place I'm gettin' at. Well, the very day after I see'd you and the young lady ahtside the club, who should I run across in the street but old Solly Moss 'isself. 'Im an' me was pals once, before 'e come up in the world, an' 'e's got a good 'eart, Solly 'as—especially for a Sheeny. We 'as a bit of a talk like, an' a couple o' drinks, an' he says to me, 'Joe,' 'e says, 'you come along dahn to my 'all, an' damn me if I don't find you a job.' An' wot's more, 'e's done it, guv'nor. I'm caretaker, chucker-aht, and one o' the two official seconds, with thirty bob a week an' me name on the bleedin' programme."
"I congratulate you," said Colin. "It must be an interesting job, but it sounds to me as if it was a bit underpaid."
"There're pickin's," returned Joe, with a wink. "A good second can do a lot toward pullin' orf a fight, an' it gen'rally means arf a crown when you 'appen to be in the winnin' corner. Besides"—he licked his lips—"me bein' in wot you might call an official position, folks as is interested in the game likes to make 'emselves civil. Why, this 'ere job will be worth quarts an' quarts o' beer to me every week."
As he spoke the train steamed into the station, and with a simultaneous movement both of them rose to their feet.
"Where are you off to?" asked Colin. "I get out at Shadwell."
"That's my mark, too," replied Joe. "I gotter go an' see the bloke wot supplies us with our jellied eels. They ain't bin up to standard lately, an' old Solly, 'e's arsked me to call rahnd and tell 'em wot 'e can do with 'em."
They took their seats along with the rest of the passengers, and a few minutes more brought them to the equally grimy platform which serves to connect Shadwell with the outside world.
As they mounted the long flight of steps up to the street Colin again addressed his companion.
"It's no use your coming to the hospital now, Joe," he said. "I've left there for good."
"Started one of your own, sir?" inquired Joe innocently.
"Not yet," replied Colin. "I am what you might call marking time at the moment, but I expect I shall be settling down again soon, and when I do I'll let you know my address. However, I shall probably see you again before then. I am sure to be down here a good deal with my friend Doctor Ashton, and one afternoon I'll walk over to your place and see if there's anything doing. I'd like to have the gloves on again, just for a bit of practice."
"You come along, guv'nor," returned Joe with enthusiasm. "There's gen'rally one or two useful lads messin' arahnd, and we'll fix you up with some bloke who can take a decent punch."
They surrendered their tickets to the porter on duty, and, having passed through the doorway, Colin stopped for a moment on the pavement outside to light himself a cigarette.
He was in the act of throwing away the match when he happened to glance across the street. As he did so he caught sight of two men who were standing in the doorway of a small public house opposite. To an ordinary observer there was nothing particularly striking about their appearance, except for the fact that one of them was unusually well dressed. If they had been Indians in full war-paint, however, the effect upon Colin could hardly have been more remarkable. He remained stock still, his eyes riveted upon the taller of the pair. Although the latter's face was half turned away, there could be no possible mistake. It was Fenton himself, the very man of all others who chiefly occupied his thoughts.
"Anything wrong, guv'nor?" inquired Joe curiously.
The sound of his companion's voice restored Colin's faculties at once. With a quick movement he caught hold of the other's arm, and, drawing him along the pavement for a few paces, pulled up behind the shelter of a deserted cart.
"Joe," he said, "you see those two fellows over there in the door of the pub?"
Mr. Moss's lieutenant squinted furtively round the backboard.
"Wot abaht 'em?" he demanded.
"Have you any idea who either of them is?"
"Dunno the torf," was the answer. "T'other one's a bloke they call 'Spike' Cooper."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
Joe laughed derisively. "Not much. I ain't pertic'ler, but I likes to draw the line somewhere."
"Oh, he's a bad lot, eh?"
"That's as it may be," replied Joe cautiously. "I ain't sayin' nothing, not one way nor the other, but any'ow, I don't fancy 'is comp'ny."
From the security of his retreat Colin subjected "Spike" Cooper to a critical examination. He was a tough-looking customer with broad, powerful shoulders and a lean, mahogany-coloured face. In spite of his somewhat shabby clothes he was evidently on familiar terms with Fenton, for he lounged back against the wall with his hands in his pockets and a half-smoked cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips.
Colin turned to Joe. "Where did you come across him?" he asked.
The ex-pugilist wrinkled his forehead. "Well, I can't say to rights. I think it was the Blue Boar at Shoreditch. 'E's bin 'anging arahnd these pubs for the last two months, though where 'e come from afore that Gawd knows. Some kind of a Yank, I reckon, judgin' by 'is talk."
Colin took another long and deliberate stare at the oddly assorted couple.
"Joe," he said, "will you do something for me?"
"You ain't no call to ask that," returned Joe a little reproachfully.
"I want to know all I can about that chap. I want you to follow him round and find out who his pals are and where he's living. Do you think you could manage it without giving away the show?"
Joe's eyes brightened. "That's orl right, guv'nor," he replied encouragingly. "Jes' you push orf an' leave the job to me. I'll pick up 'is tracks now, after this 'ere cabinet council's over. There ain't no 'urry abaht them there jellied eels."
"You're a brick, Joe," said Colin gratefully. "If you do happen to find out anything you might call round at Doctor Ashton's. You know his house in the High Street?"
Joe nodded.
"If I'm not there you've only got to leave a message that you want to see me and I'll be over at the Palace as soon as I get it." He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a couple of one pound notes. "Better take these," he added. "You might want to do a little bribery and corruption."
Joe accepted the money and slipped it inside his belt.
"You leave it to me, guv'nor," he whispered, "and don't you start worryin' if you don't 'ear nothin' fur a day or two. 'E's the sorter cove that's got to be 'andled cunnin', but I'll run 'im dahn right enough afore I done with 'im. I'll stick to 'im like 'is bleedin' shadder."
As he spoke the two men opposite moved forward out of the shelter of the door. They stood for a moment on the edge of the pavement, exchanging a few final remarks, and then, with a curt nod to his companion, Fenton stepped into the roadway, and began to cross the street in the direction of the station.
Keeping well behind the cart, Colin waited until he was safely in the booking-office.
"We seem to be in luck, Joe," he observed cheerfully. "The pubs are shut, so if our pal's got a home he's probably on his way there now."
He nodded toward the retreating figure of Mr. "Spike" Cooper, who with his hands still in his pockets was sauntering away casually up the street.
"It ain't unlikely," returned Joe, with an appreciative grin. "Any'ow, we'll 'ave a nice little walk rahnd the 'ouses, an' if we don't do nothing else, we'll get 'old of a decent thirst."
He knocked out his pipe, and, thrusting it into his pocket, drifted off inconspicuously amongst the stream of passers-by.
The whole thing had happened so quickly that up till then Colin's chief feeling had been one of complete surprise. Left to himself, however, the real significance of Fenton's appearance in this out-of-the-way neighbourhood suddenly came home to him with convincing force. Shadwell was about the last part of London that such a man would be likely to patronize unless he had some extremely definite reason for undertaking the journey. Only one reason suggested itself to Colin, namely, the presence of Nancy at Mark's house. That was certainly sufficient to account for the Major's visit, though why he should be standing in the door of an adjacent pub, talking to an obvious ruffian like Mr. "Spike" Cooper, was another problem to which no immediate answer seemed to be forthcoming.
Pondering over this point as he walked toward the surgery, Colin felt exceedingly thankful that he had had the happy inspiration to despatch Joe in pursuit of the stranger. If some underhand business were going on in connection with Nancy, it would be just as well to make certain whether this sinister-looking individual had anything to do with the proceedings. Of course, it was quite possible that the two men had met merely by chance. Being mixed up with the Turf, Fenton no doubt possessed a number of undesirable acquaintances, and he might have stumbled across one of them accidentally just as he was about to enter the station. That, indeed, seemed to be the most likely explanation, but, even so, any information that Joe could pick up would certainly not be wasted. If it served no other purpose, it would probably assist in opening Nancy's eyes to Fenton's true character, and for the moment, at all events, that was the principal object which Colin had in his mind.
On reaching the front gate of the surgery he found its owner standing on the doorstep, in the act of bidding good-bye to a patient. Almost simultaneously the latter took his departure, and with a hail of welcome Mark stepped forward to greet him.
"The very lad I wanted," was his opening remark. "In fact, I was just going to ring up the hotel and see if I could get hold of you."
"I knew you were keen to hear about the inquest," replied Colin, "and, being a gentleman of leisure, I thought I might as well oblige you."
Mark drew him into the house, and relieved him of his hat and stick.
"Come along upstairs," he whispered. "Nancy's doing the books, and there are half-a-dozen blighters in the waiting room, but I must hear what's happened, even if it ruins the business."
He led the way to the study, where they found Nancy seated at a roll-top desk, with a couple of formidable ledgers spread open in front of her. She glanced up at their entrance, and then, laying down her pen, swung round smilingly in her chair.
"You must tear yourself away from work for a minute or two," said Mark. "Colin has come to report progress."
He dropped down on the sofa, and, pulling out his pipe, began hastily stuffing it with tobacco.
"Fire ahead," he continued. "Let's have the whole story. I'm dying to hear what's happened, and it will just give me time for a comfortable smoke."
"I'm going to shake hands with Nancy first," said Colin.
He crossed the room, and, having performed the operation, very deliberately seated himself beside her on top of the padded brass fire-guard.
From this position he proceeded to give them a brief but lucid sketch of what had taken place at the inquest. He described the evidence of the various witnesses, the summing-up of the Coroner, and the final and unsatisfying verdict of the jury, concluding with a short account of how he had met Mr. Medwin and the Inspector after it was over and the views which they had expressed with regard to the situation.
"So, you see, we are more or less at a stop for the moment," he finished. "The police aren't likely to do much until they find the Professor's old servant or get an answer to their cable, and as for Medwin—well, I don't believe he cares the least whether the murderer's discovered or not. The money is what he's interested in, and both Marsden and I have got a notion that he's playing some low-down game of his own."
"What sort of game?" inquired Nancy, who had been listening to the whole narrative with absorbed interest.
"We don't know, but Marsden thinks he may have some idea who the rightful heir is, and that he's lying low until he sees the chance of pulling off a fat commission."
Nancy opened her eyes in astonishment. "Surely he wouldn't be so dishonest!" she exclaimed.
"I hope not," replied Colin; "but, after all, he's a lawyer."
Mark hoisted himself up in his chair. "I protest," he said. "I am not going to have Nancy's ingenuous mind corrupted by any beastly cynicism." He turned to Colin. "And how about you?" he added more seriously. "This infernal business must have played the mischief with all your plans."
"Oh, I'm just marking time," said Colin. "I mean to see this thing through before I attempt to do anything else."
Mark nodded approvingly. "That's right," he remarked. "That's your job, plain enough." He glanced at Nancy. "I'm afraid our idea won't work," he added.
"Is it a secret?" demanded Colin.
"Well, as a matter of fact I was going to ask you whether you could do us a good turn. If you're busy, however——"
"I should have to be devilish busy to let you down," said Colin. "What's the trouble?"
"It's Mary's mother," was the answer. "There's been some unexpected development in the case, and they have got to operate the day after to-morrow. Mary is desperately anxious for me to go up, and I can't possibly get away unless I can find someone to look after the practice. I thought that you might be able to manage it, but——"
"'But' be blowed," interrupted Colin. "I only want to be around in case Marsden needs me, and I shall be quite as handy here as at the Palace Hotel. How long do you expect to be away?"
"I don't suppose I shall be more than a couple of days. It just depends whether the operation is a success."
"Well, consider that settled," said Colin. "It won't interfere with my plans in the least; in fact, I shall be only too glad to have something else to think about."
Mark got up from the sofa, and, crossing the rug, held out his hand.
"Put it there, my son," he said gratefully. "You're a good pal, and the family thanks you."
Colin laughed. "You'd better wait till you come back," he replied. "You'll probably find that I've cured half your patients."
"I don't care a hang about what you do with them," said Mark callously. He turned toward Nancy. "I shall leave you in charge of each other," he added. "You must keep Colin posted in his job, and he must look after you and try to make himself agreeable." He paused, and added chaffingly, "I don't know whether Major Fenton will approve of the arrangement, but I'm afraid we've hardly time to consult him."
There was a brief but pregnant silence.
"Major Fenton?" repeated Colin blankly.
Mark chuckled. "You've met him, haven't you? A kind of adopted uncle of Nancy's. He rolled up here quite unexpectedly about half-past twelve this morning. I suppose he really came to see whether the place was respectable or not, and on the whole I think we managed to set his mind at rest. Anyhow, he made himself extremely pleasant, so of course I asked him to stop to lunch."
Colin flashed a quick glance at Nancy, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable.
"Oh," he said, "that explains things. I thought I caught sight of him in the street just as I was leaving the station."
"He appears to take a great interest in Nancy," pursued Mark, with a mischievous smile, "but somehow or other she doesn't exactly seem to appreciate it."
"I didn't invite him here," protested Nancy, "and I don't think he had any right to come."
Before Mark could reply there was a tap outside, and the harassed features of Martha Jane intruded themselves round the door.
"If you please, doctor," she said, "there's another four patients in the waiting room. That makes nine altogether."
"Oh, damn!" said Mark. "I suppose I must go down and see them. You'll stay to tea, Colin, of course?"
"If I'm not in the way," was the answer. "Perhaps I'd better go out for a stroll and come back."
"You stop here and talk to Nancy," replied Mark. "There's no hurry about the books, and she can save me a lot of trouble by explaining how we run the practice. She really knows rather more about it than I do."
He knocked out his pipe, and, thrusting it into his pocket, hurried off downstairs on the heels of Martha Jane.
Colin closed the door and came back to where Nancy was sitting.
"So Fenton's sense of duty is still in good working order," he observed.
With a little impatient gesture Nancy brushed aside a stray curl.
"I was very annoyed at his coming down here," she said. "If I'd thought for a moment that he was going to do a thing like that I shouldn't have given him my address."
Colin took up his old position on the fire-guard and looked thoughtfully into her indignant blue eyes.
"What did he want, Nancy?" he asked.
"Oh, it was only to invite me to dine and go to a theatre with him on Wednesday. Of course, he could just as well have written to me or rung me up on the telephone."
"And did you accept?"
Nancy shrugged her shoulders. "I couldn't very well help it. He asked me while we were at lunch, and I didn't like to say I was engaged, because Doctor Ashton would have known it was untrue."
"Otherwise you would have refused him?"
Nancy nodded. "It may seem ungrateful, but as a matter of fact I don't want to see Major Fenton again. I never liked him very much, and the last time I was with him he——" She hesitated. "Oh, well, he was different in a way, and, to put it quite plainly, I liked him even less. Besides, I haven't forgotten the horrid things he said about you."
Colin searched in his pocket and pulled out the report which Marsden had given him.
"That makes my job a bit easier," he remarked.
She gazed curiously at the slip of paper.
"What's that?" she demanded.
Colin sat back, still holding it in his hand.
"I've been doing a quite unpardonable sort of thing, Nancy," he said. "Before I tell you, will you promise to forgive me?"
"Certainly," she said, smiling. "I can always forgive anything that's really unpardonable. It makes one feel so nice and generous."
Without waiting for further encouragement Colin plunged at once into a full description of how he had taken advantage of the Inspector's half-joking offer to make some inquiries with regard to Fenton's character and reputation. He told the whole story quite simply, allowing his own motives in the matter to be taken for granted, and ended by reading her the report.
Nancy, who had listened to him gravely, made no comment until he had finished.
Then with a quaint and rather rueful little laugh she looked up into his face.
"It's a disappointing world, isn't it?" she said. "I did honestly believe that there was something kind and unselfish about his original intentions." She paused. "And you say you saw him in the street? Why, he must have left here over an hour ago."
"I saw him all right," repeated Colin.
He went on to describe his meeting with Joe and the interesting events which had ensued on their arrival at Shadwell station.
"I may be prejudiced," he concluded, "but I'm beginning to think that he's an even bigger scoundrel than the police give him credit for. Anyhow, it's perfectly plain that he's been lying to you from start to finish."
"But why should he?" objected Nancy.
It was Colin's turn to hesitate. "Well, after all, you're rather pretty, you know," he said lamely.
Nancy laughed again. "I've no doubt you're right," she said, "but I don't see that it solves the difficulty. He couldn't have known what I was like when he came and hunted me out."
"No, that's true," admitted Colin. He got off his seat and paced slowly up and down the room. "There's something behind all this, Nancy," he added; "some infernal mystery that we don't understand."
"There is," agreed Nancy; "but I mean to understand it, and very soon, too."
Colin stopped. "You're not thinking of keeping that appointment?"
She nodded. "Of course I'm going to keep it. If I don't, how can I find out what he wants?" She rose from her chair and came forward to where Colin was standing. "I—I'm awfully grateful for what you've done," she said shyly, "and I can't tell you what a comfort it is to know that I've got someone who's ready to help me." She paused. "All the same," she added, "I'm not in the least frightened of Major Fenton. I've had a lot of practice in looking after myself."