“You are familiar with his appearance, you have heard his voice, felt the magnetism of his personality and its dominance; did you feel also that strange sense of antagonism that is almost physical, as though you shrank from his touch, dreaded to breathe the same air?”
“I can’t say I have, Mr. Parsons,” the inspector replied thoughtfully. “As though he were a reptile, something poisonous, you mean? No, until yesterday I thought Orbit was a fine man. He had me buffaloed.”
“I mean as though he were the incarnation of all things evil!” Parsons’ voice was very low. “I did not gain that impression at first so strongly, but I felt a curious repugnance toward him in spite of the charm of his manner. He walked down the block with me, taking it for granted that his company was welcome and I responded as cordially as I could, for he had just rendered me a service.
“When we were opposite my own house I paused, thanking him once more for his kindness, and started to take leave of him, when he astounded and distressed me by asking me to come into his house for a little while. He said that he was lonely, a saddened mood was upon him and he would greatly appreciate it if I could spare him half an hour.
“I could not very well refuse, but it was with a reluctance wholly out of proportion that I accepted his invitation. His house, although comparatively small, was beautiful beyond any palaces I have seen abroad and filled with priceless works of art but without any tangible reason my aversion deepened to actual horror. A tall Chinese servant had taken my hat and Henry Orbit led me to his library, pressing refreshments on me and talking fluently and well on a variety of topics. I endeavored to listen, to reply pleasantly, but all the time my uncharitable, unreasoning loathing of him increased and I longed, as I have never longed for anything else in this world, to be out in the storm once more—anywhere, away from that house!
“I am sure this must sound like madness to you, but I cannot explain it even to myself. I only know that my horror deepened as the moments passed and at last I did an unpardonable thing! I rose in the middle of a sentence from him and without a word of explanation or excuse I—I fled the house! I cannot yet describe the motive which actuated me, nor could I then have found any reason for it beyond an overmastering impulse. I have never known such a feeling against a stranger before in all my life!”
“You went out into the storm, Mr. Parsons—without your hat?” McCarty asked suddenly. The inspector smothered a half audible exclamation and Dennis stared.
“I really forget—but I must have done so, of course, for I distinctly remember the cold rain beating down upon my bare head as I crossed the street, and being most grateful for it.”
“Then you left your hat hanging up in Orbit’s house,” McCarty pursued. “Can you recall what it was like, Mr. Parsons? Could it have been a soft, dark felt?”
“Probably. I seldom wear any other.” Then Parsons started slightly. “You don’t mean—! Could it really have been my hat, after all, that the unfortunate valet was wearing when he fell dead!”