“No; I am only too content to have the golden bird back again without asking questions. She would probably tell a falsehood since she hates me.”
“But if she hates you, Mr. Sorley, why did she give you back what you so very greatly desired?”
“That is what I wish to know,” cried the elder man excitedly. “It is for no good object I am certain. She means to cause trouble in some way, but how, I fail to see. Remember her threats in this very room when she was here.”
Alan nodded. “It is very strange,” he murmured, and wondered if Sorley really meant what he said, or whether he was preparing an excuse for himself should he be told—say by the police—that Grison at the time of his death had possessed the golden peacock. “It is very strange,” said Alan again, and pondered deeply, while Sorley watched him gloomily and in a shifty stealthy manner. He seemed more uneasy and anxious than ever.
“Why did you visit Mrs. Grison’s boarding-house?” he asked abruptly.
Fuller roused himself. “To hear all I could about the Rotherhithe crime, Mr. Sorley. Dick was at the inquest——”
“Dick. Who is Dick?”
“Dick Latimer, a reporter, the man who shares my rooms. We were at college together. You have met him down here, Mr. Sorley.”
“Yes, yes, I remember now. His name slipped my memory. So he was at the inquest, was he?”
“Yes, and like myself he is very interested in this crime.”