“Well, sir,” he said at last, “I think you had better see my wife. She may know something more.”
He fetched Mrs. Belton and briefly outlined to her the facts I had given him.
“You see, Ada,” he said, “the gentleman who called himself Audley here, was not the Mr. Audley who married the daughter of Commander Shaylor. Mr. Graydon is her husband. Isn’t it a puzzle?”
“It is,” replied his wife. Then, after I had made my explanation I begged her to tell me any further fact which might be of service in my inquiry. She hesitated for a moment and at last said:
“Don’t you recollect, Jack, that Mr. Graydon, before he came to us, lived at Seton’s, in Lancaster Gate. He was very friendly with Mr. Seton, who you remember was butler to old Lord Kenhythe at Kenhythe, in Kirkcudbrightshire. You went there one shooting season from Shawcross Castle, to oblige his lordship.”
“Oh! yes, of course!” exclaimed her husband. “Really, Ada, you’ve a long memory!”
“Well, I was head-housemaid once at Shawcross Castle. You forget that! But, don’t you recollect that young Mr. Graydon was very friendly with Mr. Seton. I don’t know why he left there and came to us, but I fancy it was because there was such a row at a party he had there, and he wouldn’t apologize, or something like that.”
“Ah! I remember it all now, of course, Ada,” exclaimed the woman’s husband. “Yes, you’re right—perfectly right! If there’s one man in London who knows about Mr. Graydon it’s Mr. Seton.”
He gave me the address of Lord Kenhythe’s ex-butler, and an hour later I called at a large private hotel facing Hyde Park, near Lancaster Gate, with a scribbled card from Belton.
The man who received me was a tall, very urbane person with small side-whiskers. He took me into his private parlor in the basement, where I told him the object of my visit.