“I see it all now,” he said. “Summers and Halley are one and the same man. That’s what he was doing here.”
There was a look of contempt on the face of Sefton.
“If that’s what a detective is paid for I don’t think much of the service. Wasn’t Halley here last week when you came to ask questions? If I am not mistaken here is Summers himself.”
In answer to a knock, Ena went to the door, and admitted a tall man answering exactly to the description given in the papers and on the wireless of the missing man. He bowed to the company, and shook hands with Sefton.
“This is Mr. Summers,” said he introducing him to the others.
Summers passed a nervous hand over his eyes, and said “I am afraid I can’t talk much. I am not very well, but thanks to Mr. Sefton I am making a wonderful recovery. He has told me I was wrong to run away, but I had dreams and was haunted; now I can see things better.”
Ena went to him with the instinct of a true woman. “My brother has been telling us all about you. You will be all right now; you are among friends, and must come and stop here till you are well.”
A look of deep gratitude come to his thin face, and he seemed calmer and more self-possessed.
“Thank you,” he said. “I have entire confidence in your brother, and I will do whatever he wishes.”
So here was the explanation of The Red Cote, commonplace as all explanations are when you hear them.