"Yes. I did not know at the time. But when Jerce described that criss-cross scar and the thin, lean figure of the man, I am sure it was Osip. And Mr. Horran also. I knew him well enough," ended Ackworth, with emphasis, "and even in the glimpse I caught of him, I was certain."
"But I can't see how Uncle Henry, ill as he was, could have travelled to town," objected Clarice.
"My dear, we argued all this before, and I stated then, as I state now, that a quick motor-car could easily take Mr. Horran from here to London. And now, Clarice, this large sum of money which is missing, points to the fact that Mr. Horran must have secretly led a gay life, and that his illness was merely an excuse to hide his real existence."
"No, no!" said Clarice, with horror, "I can't think Uncle Henry was so wicked; and remember, the doctors found out what he suffered from, and that it was a real disease."
"Humph! Perhaps," said Ackworth, grudgingly; "but the money?"
"I can't say anything about that."
"If Mr. Horran had forty thousand paid to him in gold," said Anthony, firmly, "he must either have spent it by secretly going to town, and to places like the Shah's Rooms, where I saw him; or he must have concealed the money somewhere. Now you can't find the money and the lawyer can't account for it in a business way. It only remains, from a common-sense point of view, that Horran really was a profligate, and used his illness as a mask."
"But the doctors--both Dr. Jerce and Dr. Wentworth--say that the post-mortem examination showed that Uncle Henry really was ill," persisted Clarice, much distressed. "The thing in the brain, whatever they called it, quite accounted for the symptoms which so puzzled them."
"Then I give it up," said Anthony.
"So do I," replied Clarice, promptly. "I am not going to trouble any more about that missing money, or about the capture of Osip, or about anything else. I must settle Ferdy's future, and then we can marry."