“Now, tell me, Mr. Belton. What is your private opinion about your tenants?”
“Well, sir, as you are a solicitor”—he had gained that knowledge from my card,—“I can speak quite frankly. Now that they are gone I don’t mind saying I held them both in suspicion. They had plenty of money and paid well, but I don’t think they were on the straight. That’s my firm opinion and my wife thinks the same.”
“What first aroused your suspicion?”
“Their card parties. They weren’t always square. I’m sure of it. Mr. Audley had an invalid friend, an old man named Davies, who came about three times, and when he came woe betide those who played. I kept my eyes and ears open when I served their drinks, and I’m sure I am not mistaken.”
“An invalid!” I exclaimed. “What kind of man was he?”
“Oh! he was very lame, was Mr. Davies, sir. An old man, but as keen as mustard on poker.”
“Did Mr. Graydon play?” I asked.
“Very little, sir.”
“Did he ever meet this Mr. Davies?”
“I think not, sir. Because on the first occasion Mr. Davies came I recollect that Mr. Graydon was away in Norway. The next time he came, Mr. Graydon was away in Paris. No,” he went on, “as far as I can recollect Mr. Graydon never met Mr. Davies.”