Suddenly Jack Sainsbury paused and, facing his companion, said:
“Look here, Sir Houston. In this tragic affair I believe there’s something more than suicide. That’s my firm opinion. Reflect for one moment, and follow my suspicions. Poor Jerome, in addition to his profession, has for some years been unofficially assisting the Intelligence Department of the War Office. He was one of the keenest and cleverest investigators in England. He scented acts of espionage as a terrier does a rat, and by his efforts half a dozen, or so, dangerous spies have been arrested and punished. In a modest way I have been his assistant, and have helped to watch and follow suspected persons. Together, we have traced cases of petrol-running to the coast, investigated night-signalling in the southern counties, and other things, therefore I happen to know that he was keen on the work. Curious that he never told me of his grave suspicions regarding Mr Rodwell.”
“Perhaps he had a reason for concealing them from you,” was the other’s reply.
“But he was always so frank and open with me, because I believe that he trusted in my discretion to say nothing.”
“Probably he had not verified his facts, and intended to do so before revealing the truth to you.”
“Yes, he was most careful always to obtain corroboration of everything, before accepting it,” was Jack’s reply. “But certainly what you have just told me arouses a grave suspicion.”
“Of what?”
“Well—that our poor friend, having gained knowledge of Lewin Rodwell’s birth and antecedents, may, in all probability, have probed further into his past and—”
“Into his present, I think more likely,” exclaimed the great doctor. “Ah! I quite see the line of your argument,” he added quickly. “You suggest that Rodwell may have discovered that Jerrold knew the truth, and that, in consequence, death came suddenly and unexpectedly—eh?”
Jack Sainsbury nodded in the affirmative. “But surely Trustram, who was one of Jerrold’s most intimate friends, could not have had any hand in foul play! He was the last man who saw him alive. No,” he went on. “My own experience shows me that poor Jerrold has died of poisoning, and as nobody has been here, or could have escaped from the room, it must have been administered by his own hand.”