“Ah!”
“Indeed, yes, the most beautiful in England.”
“I shall be happy.”
“We will walk together,” continued the other. “A cigar, please,” to the young lady who had just returned.
He held out the box to Freyberger, who took one and thanked him.
That the stranger was Klein, despite his miraculous ageing, he felt almost certain. But to arrest him there and then for no other reason than lay in an unconfirmed belief was not to be thought of. To let a murderer escape is bad, but to arrest a man who, if he is not innocent, still, has no stains or proof of guilt is worse. It is what the Criminal Investigation Department calls a “serious mistake,” and Freyberger did not fancy such a tag to his reputation.
The only other course was to leave the protection of houses and people, to go with this satanic criminal where no eye could see what happened, to be attacked by him and to master him.
“Are you ready?” asked the old man.
“I am ready,” replied Freyberger. The girl, who was putting the cigar-box back on its shelf, turned round.
“If your friend calls, shall I say you will come back?” she asked.