“Excuse me, sir, but it is,” was the ex-butler’s polite assertion. “He lived here nearly two years.”
“He is not the Stanley Audley for whom I am searching, at any rate,” I said.
“Well, he is the only Mr. Audley that my wife and I have had here.”
Suddenly I recollected that in my wallet I had a snap-shot of Thelma on her skis which I had taken up on the Allmendhubel. I drew it out and showed it to him.
“Ah! sir, that’s not the young lady who visited Mr. Audley. That’s a young lady who came twice, or perhaps three times to see Mr. Graydon.”
“What is Mr. Graydon like?” I asked eagerly.
In reply he gave me a very accurate description of Thelma’s husband.
“Who, and what is Mr. Graydon?” I asked. “Tell me, Mr. Belton, for much depends upon the result of this inquiry.”
“He’s a young gentleman very well connected—nephew of a certain earl, I believe. He had the rooms above for about nine months, and was very friendly with Mr. Audley.”
“And did he make mysterious journeys?”