“He went back to Germany. He knew nothing more than I did, however.”
“Did the doctor have any friends who came to see him?”
“Very few. There was one American who came to see him now and then. I never knew his name or where he came from, nor did I know the name of the two or three German friends he had.”
“Anything else you think of?” asked Tom.
“Nothing else, I’m afraid,” answered Swenton.
Tom rose from his chair and paced up and down the room, his hands in his trousers pockets, his coat flung back. As he walked, Swenton, watching him, uttered an exclamation.
“I can tell you one thing about the American,” he said. “He wore a peculiar shaped pin on his waistcoat, such as you wear on your fob.”
Tom pulled up his fob with its Theta Sigma Rho pin. “There’s a good clue, anyway,” he said. “He must be a Theta Sigma Rho man.”
We could get nothing more from Swenton and, after directing him to call at the Savoy the next morning, we sent him away happy. As we came down the narrow stairs and out of the old arched passages of the Temple, Dorothy said, “Let’s walk up the embankment to the hotel. We can think better that way.”
We had gone half the distance, when she stopped. “Suppose we talk it over here,” and we stopped beside the parapet to discuss the matter.