“But what am I to do if he questions me?” asked Ted distractedly.
“Tell the truth,” replied Mr. Ludgrove solemnly. “Hide nothing, for if it is discovered that you have concealed anything, it will tell all the more heavily against your father. There is only one true court of justice, the court of our own hearts. A consciousness of innocence is the only support against an unjust accusation. It would perhaps have been better had your father realized this.”
Chapter XVI.
Corfe Castle
For a couple of days after Inspector Hanslet’s last visit to the house in Westbourne Terrace, Dr. Priestley’s attitude had sorely puzzled Harold. He had hardly spoken a word, and the greater part of his time had been spent in sorting out the mass of documents which had accumulated during the course of years in the massive presses which lined the walls of his study. Harold said nothing, knowing from past experience that it was useless to ask questions. When the Professor was ready to issue his instructions he would do so. Until then, untimely questions would merely be rewarded with a rebuff.
It was therefore with intense eagerness that Harold replied, one morning shortly after breakfast, the Thursday following the death of Mr. Copperdock, to an abrupt question by his employer: “My boy, what I am about to say to you must remain a secret between ourselves, until either my death occurs or I give you leave to speak. Is that understood?”
“I undertake not to breathe a word to anybody,” replied Harold.
“To nobody,” repeated the Professor emphatically. “Not even to Hanslet, however urgent the need may seem. I am going away for a time; how long that time may be I cannot tell. I do not wish my whereabouts to be known, as that would possibly place me in considerable danger.”
“You’re not surely going alone, sir!” exclaimed Harold. “You’ll let me come with you, especially as you say there is danger attached to your journey?”
But the Professor shook his head. “The danger may exist in London equally,” he replied. “It is essential that someone I can trust should remain here. Otherwise, my boy, I should be more than pleased to take you with me. Now, listen very carefully to these instructions. Do not leave the house for long at a time, especially in the evening. Open all my correspondence, and deal with it to the best of your ability. Should there be among it any letter of a startling character, put a message in the personal column of The Times, ‘The asp has struck,’ and sign it ‘Cleopatra.’ Do you follow this so far?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Harold simply, but gazing at his employer in bewilderment. There was something theatrical about these extraordinary precautions utterly foreign to the Professor’s usual methods of procedure.