“Couldn’t he call again, Mrs. Chapman?” I asked.
“No, sir. He said he had come to see you just for a moment, and that he was sorry that he couldn’t wait. He had a taxi outside.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Chapman. I’m sorry I was not at home to see him. Did you give him my office address?”
“I did, sir. But he said he had no time to go round to Bedford Row, and that you would no doubt understand.”
Understand! What could I understand? I was more bewildered than ever.
Next day I called again upon Belton, in Half Moon Street, and questioned him more closely about his recent “Box and Cox” tenants. But he could tell me nothing more than he had already. Mr. Graydon and Mr. Audley were close friends. That was all.
“Tell me something about their visitors,” I asked. “Did Mr. Graydon, the gentleman who lived above, have many?”
“No, sir. Very few. Several of them I knew quite well when I was in service—gentlemen from the clubs. One a Canadian millionaire, came often, but Mr. Graydon never had any lady visitors except that young lady we spoke about a short time ago—the lady whose photograph you showed me, Miss Shaylor.”
“And Mr. Audley, who lived below?”
“Oh, he had quite a lot of callers—both ladies and gentlemen. He was older than Mr. Graydon, and seemed to have quite a big circle of acquaintances. They used to play bridge a lot.”