“No doubt. When we first met he gave me some very expensive presents merely because I happened to look after a girl he knew who was suffering from pneumonia. He’s an awfully generous boy, you know.”
“The fact is, Miss Day, I am doing all I can to discover Stanley Audley. Can you tell me any other facts—anything concerning his other friends?”
“He had another friend named Graydon, living at the same chambers in Half Moon Street, a rather stout, round-faced man. But he has also left London, I understand.”
“Graydon!” I ejaculated. So it seemed that the pair exchanged names when occasion required. At Half Moon Street Audley was Graydon, but outside, he took the name of the man who lived on the floor below!
What could have been the motive?
I afterwards took my pretty companion to the theatre, and, later, she took me to Ham-Bone Club, where we danced till nearly two.
From members there, I gleaned several facts concerning Stanley Audley. He was apparently a rich young “man-about-town,” but surrounded, as all wealthy young men are, by parasites who sponged upon his generosity. Of these Harold Ruthen was undoubtedly one.
Days passed, and although I went hither and thither, making inquiries in all likely quarters, I could obtain no further knowledge. Stanley Audley had disappeared. I felt more convinced than ever that Thelma possessed knowledge she feared to disclose.
In my perplexity, I thought, at last, of old Dr. Feng. Perhaps he would be able to help me. I wrote to him in care of his solicitor and received a prompt reply asking me to go and see him at an address in Castlenau, Barnes.
The house was just across Hammersmith Bridge. The anonymous letter I had received had been posted, I remembered, at Hammersmith. It was a queer coincidence.