A moment later, however, the detective who had spoken returned to me, and leaning over the bed said in a low, confidential whisper so that none could hear:—
“The dead man—Mr Miller—he bore rather a bad reputation, didn’t he? Was a bit of a mystery, I mean? Now, tell me the truth.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, in feigned surprise.
“Well, you know what we mean when we say that,” he exclaimed, smiling. “I don’t know how intimate you were with him, but the fact is that the body’s been identified as that of a man we’ve wanted for a very long time. He was generally known as Milner, and lived on the Continent a good deal. The French police sent us his photograph and description nearly three years ago. This is it.” And he showed me in secret an unmounted police portrait taken in two positions, full face and side face.
“This surprises me,” I said. “Of course I’ve never had anything to do with his business. Indeed, although I knew his daughter well, I only knew him very slightly.”
“Oh, his daughter’s all right. We have no suspicion of her.”
“Then for her sake I hope you won’t reveal to her the truth concerning her father. If he is wanted she need never know. What use is it to revile the dead?”
“Of course not, Mr Leaf,” replied the officer. “I’ve got a daughter of her age myself, therefore if the truth can possibly be kept from her I’ll keep it. Rely on me. Now,” he added, lowering his voice, “tell me—did you ever suspect Miller of being a thief?”
“Well,” I said hesitatingly, “to tell you the truth I did. Not so much from his actions as from the friends he kept. Besides, a friend of mine once declared to me that he was a black sheep.”
“My dear sir, if our information is true, he was wanted upon twenty different charges, of fraud, forgery, theft, and other things. A report from Italy is that he was chief of a very dangerous international gang. Himes may have been one of his accomplices, and quarrelled with him. In fact that’s my present theory. But we shall see.”