“Oh, I am sorry Giles, you should not have been standing, come and sit down, no I insist, it was too bad keeping you standing all this time,” and he conducted the old servant to a chair. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, thank you, sir,” he answered faintly.
The strange old man addressed as Lord Reckavile deliberately took hold of his hair and beard and removed them disclosing the face of Halley, looking grotesque enough with patches of grease paint where the hair had not covered his face, and white eyebrows which he pulled off with difficulty.
“Well I’m damned,” said Fletcher and hastily apologised to Ena.
“I give it up,” said Sefton.
Ena’s eyes were fixed on Halley. An awful suspicion was gathering in her mind that he too was a detective in disguise and had been acting a part, perhaps with her, but she dismissed it as unworthy.
Sinclair was speaking. “I had hoped for a final link in the chain, but since we have not got it I am going to ask Lord Reckavile to tell us his story. It is a long one, but you will find it interesting I think.”
“Lord Reckavile …?” began Fletcher.
“Wait,” said Sinclair “you shall know the truth now.”