"Mr. Alfred Warner," I said.
Bob caught his breath, and said, "That's strange! It is the name of the gentleman who put into our hands No. 79 Lamb's Terrace."
"There is the connection, Bob," I said. "What do you say now to the spectral cat and its having urged us to come to this fire?"
"What can I say, except that it is most bewildering and mysterious?"
"Do you think I am still laboring under a delusion?"
"No, I do not."
"It was not without a motive," I said, "that I asked your nephew this evening whether he believed that a man who is not interested in something which, to make myself fairly clear, I called a crime, might receive a spiritual visitation which compelled him to take an active part in its discovery. His reply was that he did believe such a thing could be. I believe it, too, more than ever now, after this strange fire; and I believe, also, that there is a crime involved in it, and that I--whether by design or accident I will not pretend to say--shall be instrumental in its discovery. My memory does not deceive me, does it, Bob? You told me yesterday that the gentleman who has met his death in that fire, Mr. Alfred Warner, when he placed 79 Lamb's Terrace in your employer's hands to let, did not mention the name of his last tenant."
"Yes, I told you so," Bob answered, "and there seemed to be no reason why we should ask for it."
"So that it is probable," I continued, "that there is not a disinterested person in London to whom we could go to obtain the name of the last tenant."
"Not that I am aware of," said Bob.