"Eh. Very well then. How did Depping come to you in the first place?"
"I believe I was recommended to him."
"Urn" said Dr. Fell, pinching at his moustache. "By
the same person who recommended you to Spinelli?" "I really can't say."
"Now, it's a very curious thing, Mr. Langdon," rumbled Dr. Fell, after a time of tapping the pencil on the pad, "about this information you volunteer. After telling you nothing of himself for five years, according to what you say, Depping walked into your office about two weeks ago and told you several things of a highly private nature. — Is that what you told Inspector Murch?"
Langdon had been sitting back, all polite attention, smiling mechanically; but his alert eyes had been disinterested. They strayed. He touched the sharp crease in his trousers, and seemed pleased. But now the eyes came round sharply to Dr. Fell. His faint eyebrows rose. It was as though the satisfaction of some exceedingly shrewd piece of business gleamed out.
"Quite true," he said. "Shall I — would you like me to repeat my statement, for the benefit of these gentlemen?"
"Langdon," the doctor said suddenly, "why are you so damned anxious for everybody to hear it?"
He had raised his voice only slightly, but it seemed to boom and echo in the room. This somnolent fat man took on an expression which caused Langdon's own expression to veil immediately. But the doctor only said, between wheezes:
"Never mind. I’ll repeat it. Depping said, in effect, 'I'm sick of this sort of life, and I'm going away; probably for a trip around the world. What's more, I'm taking somebody with me — a woman.'"