The little man with the godlike head admitted the fact, coolly. He had been writing letters in the back room and escape had been impossible for him.
"Funny enough, I was going to look you up to-day," he said. "You did me a great service once, and I am longing to repay you. I came down here to give my friend Gates the benefit of my advice and assistance over a large philanthropic scheme he has just evolved. And, writing letters yonder on that subject, I heard your extraordinary conversation. Can I help you, Steel?"
"My dear fellow," David cried, "if you offered me every intellect in
Europe I should not choose one of them so gladly as yours."
"Then let us shake hands on the bargain. And now I am going to stagger you; I heard you state positively that two nights ago you were in this very room."
"I am prepared to testify the fact on oath anywhere, my dear Bell."
"Very well; will you be good enough to state the hour?"
"Certainly. I was here from one o'clock—say between one and two."
"And I was here also. From eleven o'clock till two I was in this very room working out some calculations at this very table by the aid of my reading-lamp, no other light being in the room, or even in the house, as far as I know. It is one of my fads—as fools call them—to work in a large, dark room with one brilliant light only. Therefore you could not possibly have been in the house, to say nothing of this room, on the night in question."
David nodded feebly. There was no combating Bell's statement.
"I presume that this is No. 219?" he asked.