"He might, sir; there is no knowing. But since you think I have done so little, Mr. Denzil, let me ask you who it is you suspect?"
"Dr. Jorce of Hampstead."
"Pooh! pooh!" cried Link, with contempt. "He didn't kill the man—how could he, seeing he was at Hampstead on that Christmas Eve midnight, as I found out from his servants?"
"I don't suspect him of actually striking the blow," replied Lucian, "but I believe he knows who did."
"Not he! Dr. Jorce has too responsible a position to mix himself up in a crime from which he gains no benefit."
"Why! what position does he hold?"
"He is the owner of a private lunatic asylum. Is it likely that a man like him would commit a murder?"
"Again I deny that he did commit the crime; but I am certain, from the very fact of his friendship with Ferruci, that he knows more than he chooses to tell. Why should the Italian be intimate with the owner of a private asylum—with a man so much beneath him in rank?"
"I don't know, sir. But if you suspect Dr. Jorce you had better see him when he comes back from his holidays—in a month."