“Yes. I made the translation for the Coroner,” answered Elmes, with a smile.
“Well, it does you credit. Very few of our police, unfortunately, know English. In your inquiries in this case, what have you discovered?” the Ambassador asked. “You may be perfectly frank with me, because the woman was an Italian subject, and I am prepared to assist you in every way possible.”
“Thanks,” the detective said. “Already I’ve made—and am still making—very careful investigations. The one fact, however, which I have really established is the identity of the mysterious Major—who was waiting on the platform of Charing Cross Station, who was introduced to the girl, who afterwards spoke to her English companion in the Criterion, and whose photograph, fortunately enough, was found in the dead girl’s dressing-bag.”
“The Major?” repeated His Excellency, as if reflecting. “Ah! yes, of course; I recollect. Well, who is that interesting person?” he asked.
“The photograph has been identified by at least a dozen persons as that of a Major Gordon Maitland, who lives in the Albany, and who is a member of the Junior United Service Club.”
“Maitland!” echoed the Ambassador, starting at the mention of the name. “He’s rather well known, isn’t he? I fancy I’ve met him somewhere or other.”
“He’s very well known,” answered Elmes. “It is strange, however, that he left London a few days after the occurrence, and has not left his address either at his chambers or his club.”
“That is certainly curious,” the Ambassador agreed. “It may, however, be only accidental that he left after the tragic affair.”
“I have made judicious inquiries in quarters where he is best known, but absolutely nothing is discoverable regarding his whereabouts, although I have three officers engaged on the case.”
“You have found out nothing regarding his friend, the mysterious Englishman, I suppose?”