I decided next day to take my partner, Hensman, fully into my confidence. He was five years older than I, and a keen, practical business man for whose judgment I had considerable respect.
He heard me in silence. At first he was inclined to be amused but as I went on his thin, clean-shaven face assumed a very serious expression.
“Well,” I asked when I had finished, “what do you think of it all?”
“Intensely interesting, Rex—but extremely complicated,” was my partner’s reply, as he sat back in his chair. “On the face of it Audley is a crook hiding from the police. Evidently he has not attempted to get abroad, but is still somewhere in London. That’s my view.”
“But what causes his wife to tell me that he can never return to her?” I asked. “What is your opinion of that?”
“I cannot tell that. But I believe she must hear from him and that she knows his whereabouts from time to time. The telegram he received calling him back from Mürren was, no doubt, a message of warning.”
“I quite agree,” I said. “But why did he escape so rapidly from Lancaster Gate?”
“Probably he thought you were a detective.”
“But if he saw me enter the place he would have recognized me at once.”
“True. I never thought of that,” said Hensman. “No. He took fright at something, and thought he’d destroy all the bank-notes. His escape, I admit, was an ingenious one. He evidently slipped out while you had gone downstairs to call Seton, and leaving the key on the inside of the door, re-locked it.”