"Don't know, sir, I'm sure. But mightn't it all be a plant--a try-on--to get something out of you, either money or information, or something else?"
"They got no money out of me--not a single penny," answered Van Duren. "And as for information----"
In a moment it flashed across his mind that Miriam Byrne had indeed got certain information out of him, which information seemed to connect itself, in some mysterious way, with the journey to Wales. Would she and her father ever have gone to any such out-of-the-way place as Marhyddoc, if he had not told Miriam the story of the shipwreck? But even in that case, what possible object could be gained by their visit to Marhyddoc? The key to the great secret of his life lay there at the bottom of the sea, as far beyond their reach, even supposing them to have known of its existence, as it was beyond his. After all, it was perhaps nothing more than a singular coincidence that had taken them to that particular spot in Wales. Could it be that Miriam had grown to take so deep an interest in him that she wanted to see the very place where he had been shipwrecked? This was a thought that made his heartbeat wildly for a moment or two; but it was quickly succeeded by a feeling of deadly apprehension. What Pringle had told him about Byrne and his disguise, smote him with a sense of some hidden danger which he could not overcome. Why had Miriam pressed him so earnestly to give her all the details of the shipwreck? And why had they said nothing to him of their contemplated journey before he left home?
He could not shake off the feeling that he was in the midst of some great peril. It was quite out of the question, that he should sit quietly down in Spur Alley, and have no knowledge of what was happening in Wales. Even at that moment, what terrible events might be taking place on which his fate might hang as on a thread! And yet again, how was it possible that any harm could happen to him having its origin in what he had told Miriam? He had simply told her that he had lost a box containing the whole of his worldly possessions; but he had given no hint as to the special contents of the box. How was she or her father to connect the Max Van Duren of to-day with the Max Jacoby of twenty years ago? And even granting that they knew his secret so far, there would not, even in that case, be the slightest link to connect him with the murder of Paul Stilling. But more than all else was he rendered uneasy by the fact of Byrne's disguise. There was something in that which he altogether failed to comprehend. He questioned Pringle again and again as to what he had seen at Euston Square, but with no other result than to add a more positive confirmation to what he had been told at first.
"Pringle, I shall go down to Marhyddoc by the next fast train."
"There is one at ten in the morning, sir."
"That will suit me. Mr. Byrne and I have sundry business transactions together which necessitate my seeing him as soon as possible. I need not tell you how annoyed I am to find that he has gone away without leaving a message of any kind for me."
He paused and looked at his watch. "I am terribly tired, and I must try to get a few hours' sleep before starting. You are a light sleeper, I know, and I will trust you to call me at six."
"All right, sir."
"You may also see Mrs. Bakewell for me, and arrange for breakfast at eight. You had better sleep here to-night, and I will go through the remaining letters with you during breakfast."