"Quite so," Rigby admitted. "I am with you there. But how do we know for certain that Nostalgo No. 2, so to speak, and Lord Barmouth are not the same man? Did you notice anything strange about the appearance of Barmouth as he came into the room to-night--that he was humpbacked or misshapen in any way?"
Jack was bound to admit that he had not noticed anything of the kind.
"I don't think we shall ever do much good unless we go direct to the fountain head," Jack said thoughtfully.
"Mexico," Rigby cried. "I see exactly what you mean."
"Mexico it is. We know perfectly well that when Barmouth went off to Mexico two years ago on a sporting expedition he was a normal man like you and me. If he had been so terribly disfigured by birth or accident as he appeared to-night we should have known it. A man in his position with an infirmity like that cannot hide it from the light of day. To carry the thing to a logical conclusion, if Barmouth had been like that when he went away, why should he be so dreadfully troubled about it now?"
Rigby applauded this sound reasoning. He could see that Jack had something on his mind, and urged him to proceed.
"I don't quite know what to make of it," Jack said. "As I observed just now, we seem to be face to face with the fact that there are two or three Nostalgos, and for all we know to the contrary, there may be a score more knocking about London. It has occurred to me more than once that these men must belong to some secret society."
Rigby was inclined to laugh at the idea. On being asked by Jack to explain what he saw that was fatal to the theory, he replied logically enough that such a thing was out of the question.
"My dear fellow, just think what you are saying," he exclaimed. "So far as my reading teaches me, the great object of a secret society is to be secret. Besides, you don't suggest for a moment that these men belong to any particular tribe, especially as we know perfectly well that Lord Barmouth, who is an Englishman, belongs to them. Nor would you want me to believe that these men are in the habit of having their faces operated upon by some ingenious doctor, so that they are in the position to recognize one another when they meet."
Jack was bound to admit that Rigby had the facts entirely upon his side. It seemed absolutely childish to believe that sane men would do this kind of thing, especially when it was very evident that these various Nostalgos were only too anxious to hide themselves from the light of day. Rigby did not pursue his advantage; he was quite content to judge that his argument had prevailed from the expression of Jack's face.