Torry shrugged his shoulders. "As to that," he remarked tritely, "I can only say that a woman is at the bottom of every trouble. This may be the woman concerned in this especial affair."
At this moment Mr. Leighbourne arrived according to appointment, and, with Torry, he was conducted up stairs into the chambers of the late Mr. Grent. These had a damp musty smell as though they had been uninhabited for some time, and both bedroom and sitting-room were in a state of great confusion. Travelling-rugs, dressing-bags, and portmanteaux were scattered about the sitting-room, and in the bedroom there were piles of shirts, heaps of clothes, and all the impedimenta of a man bound on a long journey. What particularly struck Torry was the presence of a large American trunk, half full of wearing apparel.
"That is a big box to take on a short journey," said he thoughtfully.
"I don't call a journey to Italy a short one," replied Leighbourne, who looked worried and ill, and spoke sharply. "It takes two days and two nights to reach Florence."
"Maybe, sir. But Mr. Grent intended to stay only two weeks according to Meek, here."
"Yes, sir," chimed in the deferential butler, "Only two weeks."
"In which case," continued the detective, "he would hardly need so many clothes. A portmanteau of that size and a dressing-bag would have contained ample, unless," added Torry, looking at Leighbourne, "Mr. Grent was a masher."
The young banker laughed. "No, indeed," said he, with assumed lightness, "my poor friend cared nothing for dress."
"Then," said Torry decisively, "you may be sure, he intended to take a much longer journey than you suppose."
"But he said he was going to Italy."