Then what about Silwood's alleged losses on the Stock Exchange? he asked himself. Were they fictitious too? Or—what?
"Silwood is rich," continued the Syndic, "but it took very little money to get him out of the country, as it happened. His scheme had taken account of that, and he brought with him a disguise—a disguise as complete as any I ever saw; no one could have recognized him in it. By taking off his wig, putting on a moustache, staining his face and hands, and touching up his cheeks with some paint, he became another man altogether. Then he had clothes with him—such clothes, he told me, as any British workman might wear—and these he wore. The disguise was perfect, and must have been carefully studied. In the night I guided him out of Camajore, and set him on the way to Lucca, which he reached; thence he went on to Genoa, where he took ship for England. But he was delayed at Genoa—there was an accident; how it came about is not known, but he was stabbed in the street."
"Stabbed in the street!" exclaimed Gilbert, on whom the full light was now breaking.
"Yes; he telegraphed for me to go to him, and I went. He said that to prosecute the man who had stabbed him would be fatal, and I arranged there should be no prosecution. Besides, his wound was not serious; he had merely to lie quiet for some days."
"Under what name did Silwood go when he was thus disguised?" asked Gilbert, though he knew what the reply would be.
"James Russell," said the Syndic.
CHAPTER XXXIV
"James Russell! I thought so," said Gilbert, tingling with excitement.
"Is this of importance to you?" the Deputy asked Gilbert.