“Then Miss Seymour’s case and Guy’s are practically identical!” he cried, staring at me.
“Yes. And I want you to stay here with me and investigate,” I said. Then I related how, on the door of her room being burst in, she had, before losing consciousness, made reference to some mysterious hand.
“That’s distinctly curious,” Cardew declared. “I wonder what she could have meant?”
“Ah! that remains to us to discover. Will you assist me?”
“Of course,” cried the Captain enthusiastically. “Only I hope the poor young lady will recover. Surely the doctors ought to be able to diagnose something!”
“They can’t say anything definite. It’s for you and me to furnish proofs.”
“What do you suspect, Kemball?” he asked, looking straight into my face.
“Wait and see,” I replied. “At eleven o’clock, if Asta is not then conscious, we will go and investigate the room in which she was lying when seized.”
We ate some cold meat and drank a glass of claret, for I had touched nothing that day, while he had had a long journey from Aldershot. Then again we sought news of my beloved.
Her precarious condition had not altered, and she remained still unconscious. Afterwards I was told by Mrs Howard that Shaw was in the library, writing. He was greatly upset at the girl’s continued unconsciousness, and had expressed a desire not to be disturbed. As I passed the door I heard him speaking over the telephone to some one. All I heard was the number—the number of the woman Olliffe! I tried to gather what he said, but was unable. He was purposely speaking in a low voice—so as not to be overheard.