“A mere coincidence. They stand for Anna Petrovna. Von Eckhardt told me that. I saw him in Berlin. She’s a well-known Nihilist, and the police are after her in Russia. So you see, if you or any others are imagining there’s any connection between her and Miss Pendennis, you’re quite wrong.”
“H’m,” he said enigmatically, and I was immensely relieved that a warder opened the door at that moment and showed in Sir George Lucas.
“Oh, here you are, Lucas,” said Southbourne, rising and shaking hands with him. “This is your client, Mr. Wynn. I’ll be off now. See you again before long, but I’ll give you a bit of advice, with Sir George’s permission. Never prevaricate to your lawyer; tell him everything right out. That’s all.”
“Thanks; I guess that’s excellent advice, and I’ll take it,” I said.
CHAPTER XXVI
WHAT JIM CAYLEY KNEW
I did take Lord Southbourne’s advice, partly; for in giving Sir George Lucas a minute account of my movements on the night of the murder, I did not prevaricate, but I made two reservations, neither of which, so far as I could see, affected my own case in the least.
I made no mention of the conversation I had with the old Russian in my own flat; or of the incident of the boat. If I kept silence on those two points, I argued to myself, it was improbable that Anne’s name would be dragged into the matter. For whatever those meddling idiots, Southbourne or Jim Cayley (I’d have it out with Jim as soon as I saw him!), might suspect, they at least did not know for a certainty of her identity as Anna Petrovna, of her presence in Cassavetti’s rooms that night, or of her expedition on the river.