"It was a remarkably foolish thing of you to do," the Duke said.
"I am realizing it now, sir," I answered.
"Did this person call on you at all?" the Duke asked.
"No, sir. You may remember that it was the night of Colonel Ray's lecture. He called to see me on his way back and found me ill. I believe that this person looked in at the window and went away. I saw no more of him alive after this."
"You have some idea, I presume, as to his identity?"
"I have no definite information, your Grace," I answered.
The Duke did not look at me for several moments.
"I am afraid," he said, stiffly, "that you may experience some inconvenience from this most ill-advised attempt of yours to suppress evidence which should most certainly have been given at the inquest. However, I have no doubt that your story is true. I have some inquiries now before me from the police station. I will do what I can for you. Good-evening, Ducaine."
"Good-evening, sir," I answered. "I am much obliged to you."
I walked homewards across the park. The carriage had gone from the private road, and Ray was alone when I entered. It was impossible to tell what had happened from his expression. He sat stretched out in my easy chair, smoking furiously, and his face was impassive. Grooton served us with dinner, and he ate and drank with only a few curt remarks. But afterwards, when I was deep in my work, he suddenly addressed me.