“No. I never saw the number, but would recognise it again. Besides, Hyde Park Gate is not a large place. You could soon discover the house.”
“He probably lived there under another name.”
“He had only recently come over from America, he told us,” I said.
“And in all probability is by this time on his way back there,” laughed the detective. “At any rate we’ll have a look about the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gate and gather what interesting facts we can. We want him now on charges of wilful murder and of attempted murder.”
“How long will it be before I can get out?” I asked. “Well, the doctor last night said you’d probably be in here another fortnight, at the least.”
“A fortnight!” What might not happen to Ella in that time! Would Miller’s death change the current of events, I wondered?
For poor Lucie I felt a deep sympathy, for she had regarded her father as her dearest friend, and had, I think, never suspected the dishonest manner in which he made his income.
Himes was a clever scoundrel, without a doubt. He had thoroughly misled a shrewd, far-seeing man like Miller, as well as myself, by his suave manner and easy-going American bonhomie.
“And now you’d better rest again,” said the inspector to me. “Don’t worry over the affair any more to-day. Leave it to us. When we find this interesting American, who gives his friends poisoned whisky, we’ll let you know.”
I thanked all three, and they withdrew.