“I never saw him,” was my lame reply. “He always kept at a distance from me and only approached at a point where it was too dark to distinguish his features.”
“I’ve seen no one, except a clergyman whom I met a moment ago passing in Earl’s Court Road—at least he wore a broad-brimmed hat like a clergyman. I didn’t see his face.”
“A clergyman!” I gasped. “Do you think it could have been a Roman Catholic priest?” for my thoughts were at that moment of Fra Antonio, who was evidently the guardian of the Cardinal’s secret.
“Ah! I’m sure I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t see his features. I only noted his hat.”
“I feel very faint,” I said, as a sickening dizziness crept over me. “I wish you’d get me a cab. I think I had better go straight home to Great Russell Street.”
“That’s a long way. Hadn’t you better go round to the West London Hospital first?” the policeman suggested.
“No,” I decided. “I’ll go home and call my own doctor.”
Then I sat upon a doorstep at the end of Lexham Gardens and waited while the constable went in search of a hansom in the Old Brompton Road.
Had I been attacked by some homicidal maniac who had followed me all that distance, or had I narrowly escaped being the victim of foul assassination? To me the latter theory seemed decidedly the most feasible. There was a strong motive for my death. Blair had bequeathed the great secret to me and I had now learnt the cipher of the cards.
This fact had probably become known to our enemies, and hence their dastardly attempt.