"It has been a terrible time," said the inspector, "and we owe you what we can never repay."
"You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when she asked me? Did you stop long with her?"
"Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen Mrs. Death and her little girl?"
"Yes," replied Dick, "I have been twice to their lodgings, and they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great poverty--there are seven little children----"
"Poor creature! How's the little girl?"
"There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly turned up, and a doctor is attending her."
Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen.
"Have you ever heard of him, uncle?"
"Never; he must be a kind gentleman, and I'm glad such a piece of good fortune has fallen to Mrs. Death's share. I wish we could find her husband for her. Dick, now that Reginald is connected with us, a watch ought to be kept on the house in Catchpole Square. Constable Applebee says it looks as if it was quite deserted. If it remains so a day or two longer I shall consider what is best to be done. Abel Death and Mr. Boyd are mixed up together in my mind, and some steps should be taken to clear the mystery. You remember what you said about murder--do you still hold to it?"
It was an awkward question, and Dick gave an evasive reply.