“Then why—why murder Ronald Tower?”
“There you go again. Murder! How you chew on the word. I never touched the man, only to haul him into the boat and go through his pockets. I guess he had a weak heart, due to over-eating, and the cold water upset him.”
“But you left him in the river?”
“Wrong every time. I chucked him into a barge and covered him tenderly with a tarpaulin.”
Meiklejohn sprang upright. “Good God,” he cried, “he may be alive!”
“Sit down, William, sit down,” was the cool response. “If he’s alive, he’ll turn up. In any case, he’ll be found sooner or later. Shout the glad news now and you go straight to the Tombs.”
This was obviously so true that the Senator collapsed into his chair again, and in so doing disturbed the fire-irons a second time.
The incident amused the unbidden guest. “I see you won’t be happy till I leave you,” he laughed, “so let’s go on with the knitting. That girl—she is becoming a woman—what is to be done with her?”
“Rachel takes every care—”
“Rachel is excellent in her way. But she is growing old. She may die. The girl is the living image of her mother. It’s a queer world, and a small one at times. For instance, who would have expected your double to walk onto the terrace at the landing-stage at nine o’clock precisely last night? Well, some one may recognize the likeness. Inquiries might be instituted. That would be very awkward for you.”