Dick looked at his friend too dazed to speak. “Well, I’ll be damned!” he muttered.
For a few minutes they sat regarding each other in puzzled silence. Then Dick roused himself to ask: “Is the Alfred Clark of whom you speak the man who is now secretary to the Attorney General?”
“Is he tall, well-built, handsome, with a peculiar scar on his temple?”
“You have described the man to a dot. Looks like a Gypsy?” Long nodded in acquiescence. “He goes out here a great deal; sort of insinuates himself into people’s good graces. I never liked him—too much of a beauty man to suit me. What was he doing in England?”
“He stopped there from Italy on his way to the States. At that time his father had plenty of money, and Alfred did nothing but travel about at his own sweet will. The crash came just afterwards, and then he had to get to work.”
“It must have been a bitter pill for him to swallow, poor devil. I’ve gone through a somewhat similar experience,” and Dick sighed sympathetically. “Strange that Mrs. Trevor, Gordon and Clark should all be here at the same time!”
“Fate plays strange tricks,” agreed Long. “I heard nothing further about these three people until I read of the Trevor tragedy. How did Gordon and Mrs. Trevor look, Dick, when you introduced them?”
“I don’t know,” confessed Dick. “Gordon didn’t appear until about the middle of the first act; the box was in semi-darkness. I introduced him to all my friends as he was the stranger, and I remember hearing Mrs. Trevor say she was ‘delighted to meet him.’ I took it for granted she didn’t know him.”
Long shook his head. “It’s a black business, Dick, whichever way you look at it. If she jilted Gordon and married Trevor, it might be a reason for the crime; or if Gordon really married her first, then there is a still greater motive for the murder.”
“Bigamy?” ejaculated Dick.