He nodded a curt good-night, and, stepping back again into the laboratory, closed the door behind him.
Dismissed in this unceremonious fashion, Colin made his way into the dining room, where he found a plate of sandwiches and a siphon set out ready for him on a tray. It was unthinkable that such an idea could have occurred to the unaided intelligence of Mrs. Ramsay, and, rather surprised at the Professor's consideration, he proceeded to mix a drink, which he carried with him up the staircase.
His room was situated on the first floor—a large, comfortable apartment looking out toward the back. It had been fitted up since his arrival with a gas stove, and, having lighted this and placed his tumbler upon the dressing table, he began in a leisurely fashion to get ready for bed.
The chief subject that occupied his thoughts was the revelation which Nancy had made to him at dinner. What on earth had induced Major Fenton to concoct that ridiculous story about a scandal at St. Christopher's Hospital? That it was an invention of his own Colin felt certain, and no man would take the responsibility of fathering such a lie unless he had some particularly strong object in view.
Could he have fallen in love with Nancy himself? If that were the case it would certainly supply a possible motive. Passion has a queer effect upon some characters, and the mere thought of her making friends with any one else might have filled him with such furious resentment that he had clutched at the first conceivable chance of breaking off their acquaintance.
It was a likely enough solution; and yet, somehow or other, it left Colin unconvinced. He had carried away a very unfavourable impression of Nancy's self-adopted guardian, but it was an impression that declined to fit in with this otherwise plausible theory. Unless his judgment were badly at fault, there was a hard, calculating selfishness stamped upon every line of the man's face. People of that sort are not swept off their feet by sudden outbursts of romantic jealousy, nor—which was another and extremely significant consideration—do they concern themselves unduly over the welfare of a dead friend's offspring.
It was this latter point, indeed, which puzzled Colin completely. He felt convinced that Major Fenton must have had some secret purpose in hunting Nancy out and practically forcing his acquaintance upon her. His story about a twenty-year-old friendship with her father would have sounded well enough in a sentimental novel, but having seen the gentleman for himself, and having had an illuminating example of his ideas of honour and fair play, Colin found the explanation uncommonly difficult to swallow.
Perhaps Inspector Marsden and his colleagues at the Yard would be able to throw some light on the problem. It would be interesting at least to know a little about the Major's career, and whether his past record was at all in keeping with this sudden excursion into philanthropy.
There was another possible source of information in the person of Mr. Medwin. The two men were certainly acquainted, otherwise Fenton's photograph would not have been adorning the mantelpiece in Albert Terrace. When he visited the house again he could easily find an opportunity to make some casual inquiry concerning the original, only it must be done in a sufficiently tactful manner not to arouse the lawyer's curiosity.
In any case, this alternative course could be postponed until he had received the Inspector's report. The odds were that, if there was really anything shady in Fenton's history, Marsden would succeed in unearthing it, and since Nancy seemed to be thoroughly capable of looking after herself, another week's delay was not likely to produce any tragical consequences.