Mr. Duke, who had been following the recital with a thrilled interest that satisfied even French’s egotism, remembered the lady’s name, though he could not recall anything else about her.
“This will be good news for Vanderkemp,” he declared. “I must tell him at once. Though you have taken off your surveillance, he feels that he has never really been cleared of suspicion. This discovery of yours will go far to satisfy him. Yes, and what then?”
He settled himself again to listen, but when he realised that French had finished his tale and was no nearer finding Miss Cissie Winter than he had been of getting hold of Mrs. X, his features took on an expression of the keenest disappointment, bordering almost on despair.
“Good heavens, Inspector! After raising my hopes, don’t tell me now that you are really practically no farther on,” he lamented. Then sinking his voice, he went on slowly, “If something isn’t discovered soon I may tell you I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m getting to the end of my tether. I’m even getting short of cash. The insurance company won’t pay—yet; they say it is not certain the stones will not be recovered. They say I must wait. But my creditors won’t wait.”
He stopped and stared before him vacantly, and French, looking at him more keenly than he had yet done, was shocked to see how old and worn the man was looking. “Even if the insurance company paid all, I don’t know that I could make ends meet,” he went on presently. “I’m beginning to see ruin staring me in the face. I thought I was strong and could scoff at reverses, but I can’t, Inspector, I can’t. I’m not the man I was, and this affair has shaken me severely.”
French was somewhat taken aback by this outburst, but he felt genuinely sorry for the old man, who at the close of a life of comparative luxury and success was faced with failure and poverty. He gave him what comfort he could, pointing out that the discovery of Mrs. X’s identity was a real step forward, and expressed the belief that so well known a personality could not long remain hidden.
“I sincerely trust you are right,” Mr. Duke answered, “and I am ashamed of having made such a fuss. But do try, Inspector,” he looked imploringly at the other, “do try to push on the affair. I know you are,” he smiled, “doing all that any one could do, but it’s so desperately important to me. You understand, I hope, that I am not complaining? I fully appreciate your splendid work in the face of great difficulties.”
French assured him that he himself was just as anxious to clear up the mystery as any one else could be, and that he need not fear but that everything possible would be done to that end, and with further expressions of mutual amity they parted.
The Inspector next turned his steps to the Comedy theatre. Rehearsals were in progress, and the building was open. Going round to the stage door, he spoke to the doorkeeper.
“No, sir,” the man said civilly, “I’m not here long. Only about nine months.”