“Sorley has escaped.”
“Escaped,” Miss Grison screamed, and then suppressed her emotion lest more trouble should be caused in the house. “How—how did he escape?” she asked, clenching her hands so tightly that the nails were driven into the flesh.
Dick was recovering his breath by degrees. “When the cab stopped at Bow Street police office, and we alighted—that is, when Moon and his officer and Sorley alighted, for I followed him in another cab—Sorley suddenly darted away and was lost in the fog.”
There was a look of mingled dismay and anger on Miss Grison’s face at this unexpected intelligence. She tried to speak and could not, so Fuller asked the necessary question.
“Didn’t the detective hold him when he alighted?”
“Yes, and there came in Sorley’s cleverness. On the way out of this house he managed to slip his arms out of the sleeves of that overcoat he wore and simply left it buttoned on his shoulders. When one of the men held him by the arm, he suddenly slipped the coat and ran away. Of course Moon and his underlings followed, but the fog was so thick that they could not catch him. I arrived a moment later, and then came back here to tell you.”
“He is guilty, he is guilty,” said Miss Grison persistently. “What do you say now, Mr. Fuller?”
Alan was puzzled. “He certainly gave himself up,” he remarked.
“And intended to give the detectives and Moon the slip whenever he had the chance,” retorted the landlady. “Bah! Don’t tell me; the man is the murderer of my brother, and came here to try and force me to prove his innocence by admitting that I took the peacock down to Belstone, which I certainly did not. What is your opinion, Mr. Latimer?”
“I can’t say,” replied Dick with a perplexed air. “To-night, since the man was giving himself up so frankly, I half believed that he was innocent. I have my doubts now. But it is a very puzzling case,” ended Dick with a sigh.