That meant that he was alive. Freyberger was convinced that the man seen by Hellier was Klein. If Gyde were alive, then he must have been staying here at No. 18 St Ann’s Road. Klein had also been staying here. Therefore Gyde and Klein were working in collusion.
That would mean that Sir Anthony Gyde had entered into a partnership with this man, Klein—for what purpose?
For the purpose of murdering some unknown man in a cottage on the Fells of Cumberland, and doing it in such a manner that Klein would appear to be the victim and he, Sir Anthony Gyde, the murderer.
By extension it would mean that Lefarge, long ago, had entered into a similar partnership with Müller. The thing was preposterous.
What, then, was the reason of this telegram?
All at once an explanation of it flashed across Freyberger’s mind. Could it be a “blind?” Could Klein, suspecting Hellier of following him, suspecting a trap of the police, have sent this message?
Freyberger had constructed Klein in his own mind from all sorts of fragments—the two photographs, his handwriting, his methods. The man, if he was a man and not a demon, was a master of subterfuge.
The momentary insanity which had caused him to strangle Mr Goldberg would not in the least interfere with his reason.
“Now,” said Freyberger to himself, “if he noticed Hellier following him, his reasoning would have run like this:
“I left a man dead in a road close by here last night; I came out this morning and was followed by a man who was very much alive and who had something of the cut of a detective.