The old man, with knit brows, shrugged his shoulders dubiously.
“Of course I can quite understand, Yelverton,” he said at last with a smile. “You have fallen in love with her. Oh! it is all very foolish—very foolish, indeed. I suppose you have discovered a good many things concerning Stanley Audley?”
“Yes, many curious facts which require explanation,” I said.
“Really?” he asked, interested. “What are they?”
In response, I told him one of two strange things I had discovered concerning the missing man, at which he expressed himself utterly astounded.
“I really don’t wonder that the remarkable affair has bewildered you,” he said at last. “I had no idea that Audley was such a man of mystery. I thought he had merely left his bride and hidden himself because he grew tired of her.”
“No. He is hiding because of his fear of somebody—that is my opinion.”
“Have you any idea where he is?”
“Not in the least,” I replied frankly, at the same time recollecting that his friend, Ruthen, whom I so disliked, was also in search of Thelma’s husband.
“But don’t you think that his wife knows his whereabouts?” he asked.