Harley sighed, and leaned back in his chair.
“Do you recollect your first meeting with this man, Knox?”
“Perfectly.”
“What occurred?”
“He was slightly drunk.”
“Yes, but what was the nature of his conversation?”
“He suggested that I had recognized his resemblance to Edgar Allan Poe.”
“Quite. What had led him to make this suggestion?”
“The manner in which I had looked at him, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Although not quite sober, from a mere glance he was able to detect what you were thinking. Do you wish me to believe, Knox, that this same man had not foreseen what the police would think when Colonel Menendez was found shot within a hundred yards of the garden of the Guest House?”