With a defiant air the Italian took and lighted a cigarette. He did not appear in the least unnerved, though the furtive glances which he occasionally turned in the direction of his captor showed that his mind was not altogether at ease. He would have given much to know what Lance was driving at. He did not like to see the other quite so sure of his ground.
"My time is my own," he said. "Go on."
"Oh, I beg your pardon, your time is mine. But I dare say you will wonder why I am detaining you like this. To tell you the truth, since your last visit here----"
"That is not true," Silva cried. "I have never been here before!"
"Why play with me?" Walter asked contemptuously. "It is some days since you were here last. To refresh your memory, I am alluding to the night when you came here by way of the ventilator in the dome, and made a murderous attack upon my uncle, who owes his life to the fact that I was not very far away. It is no use your denying this, because I am in a position to prove it. I dare say you congratulated yourself upon the fact that you got clear away. You would chuckle to think how mystified we all were. Here is a murderous onslaught made upon a public man in his own studio, from which there is no exit but the door; and on the night of the strange affair the door was locked. No one but a bird could have escaped through the ventilator. You can picture to yourself what a sensation the business would have caused if the police had been called in and the affair made known to the Press. Now I dare say you wonder why the police were not called in at once?"
Silva pulled at his cigarette savagely, but made no reply.
"Well, I am going to be more polite than you are," Walter said; "and I am going to tell you. I had a fancy to play the detective myself. I looked around for some sort of a clue, and at length I found one. Ah, I see you are interested."
"Only in my own safety," Silva muttered.
"Well, that is the same thing. On the floor close by where you are seated I found a shabby yellow playbill, advertising the performance of Valdo, the flying man, at the Imperial Palace Theatre. The bill was neatly folded, and was of recent date. Now I know perfectly well that neither Lord Ravenspur nor any of his friends would be interested in that kind of thing. Therefore, how did the bill get here? Probably left by the flying man himself, and a flying man would be the only kind of human being capable of getting in and out of this studio in that mysterious fashion. Upon this, I made up my mind to come and see you, and I did. I have only to place this information, together with my testimony, in the hands of the police. Indeed, I have only to send for a constable now and give you into custody. After that you would not be likely to give us any cause for anxiety the next seven years."
The Italian's eyes gleamed as he glanced restlessly about him. There was no reason for Walter to ask himself if his prisoner understood. Silva shrugged his shoulders.