"I will explain van Heerden's game one of these days and you will understand what I mean," said Beale. "No, I don't think that Parson Homo is being any more than a gentle knight succouring a distressed lady, whether for love of the lady, out of respect for the professor or from a general sense of antagonism to all detectives, I can only speculate. Anyway, he held me until the lady was out of hearing and presumably out of sight. And then there was no need for me to go. I just sat down and talked, and a more amiable and cultured gentleman it would be impossible to meet."
Kitson looked at his companion through narrowed lids.
"Why, that's not like you, Beale," he said. "I thought you were too hot on the scent to waste time."
"So I am," said the other, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, "that's just what I am." He turned suddenly to the older man. "Mr. Kitson, I've got to know a little more about John Millinborn's will than I know at present."
The lawyer looked up, fixed his glasses and regarded the younger man with a troubled look.
"I'm sorry to jump in on you like this, but I'm rattled. I don't understand much about the English law though I know that marriages aren't as easy to make here in London as they are in our country. But here as everywhere else it is fairly difficult to force a girl into marriage against her will, and the marriage of course is not good in law."
He sat down on the arm of a couch, dangling his hat between his legs, and ran his fingers through his hair with a nervous little laugh.
"Here I'm telling you all that I came to ask you."
"Have a cup of tea," said Kitson, with a smile, "everybody in England rushes to tea and I hope I shall get you in the habit."
Beale shook his head.