“I assure you, on my honor, that it can.”
“But look here, Bruce. Why should she come to see me? I question greatly if she knew of my existence.”
“Nevertheless, it is the fact.”
“I can only tell you it is not. I left London on November 8, and on the two previous evenings I dined alone. Mrs. Robinson, my housekeeper, can tell you that not another soul entered my flat for a week prior to my departure, except my sister and—and—I had forgotten—some workmen.”
“Some workmen?”
“Yes; some fellows from a furniture warehouse.”
“What were they doing?”
“Well, don’t you see, I told you I was not well off, and my sister furnished my flat for me, in August last that was, but the drawing-room was left bare for a time. Just before I left for France she decided to refurnish her drawing-room, and she gave me the whole fit-out. The things were brought in by the men who brought her purchases.”
At this astounding revelation Bruce and the detective were utterly taken aback. It was with difficulty that the barrister enunciated his next words clearly.