“Yet I must say you seem deeply interested in him.”
“Merely curiosity. To be frank, Mr. Rascomb, I wondered about your connection with the man. It seemed odd.”
“I’m not surprised at that. I met Povy a year ago at one of my clubs. Then a few days ago I read about his death in the newspapers. Learning there was no one to take charge of the funeral, I assumed the responsibility.”
“It was a fine thing to do.”
It seemed to Flash that Rascomb was trying a little too hard to impress him. However, the man’s explanation was logical. He had no reason to doubt it.
“Strange you thought I resembled Povy,” Rascomb chuckled. “Not very flattering, I fear.”
“I meant no offense,” apologized Flash. “The resemblance, if any, is slight.”
“And I have no scar,” Rascomb laughed good-naturedly. “That should place me above suspicion.”
They talked of other subjects. Presently the ringing of a bell summoned them to luncheon.
Throughout the meal, Rascomb took special pains to be agreeable to his two guests. Once he arose to close a window, apologizing for smoke which filtered into the dining room.