“But if somebody went there dressed to resemble you, there must have been a motive in their visit,” Max said.
“Well, old fellow, as you know, I have kept away from the house of late—at Maud’s request. She feared that her father did not approve of my too frequent visits.”
“And so you met her at dusk in the quiet streets about Nevern Square and the adjacent thoroughfares?”
“Certainly. I told you so. I made no secret of it to you. Why should I?”
“Then why make a secret about your visit to the house on that particular evening?”
“I don’t make any secret of it,” he protested. “As I’ve already told you, I was not there.”
“But you didn’t leave Charing Cross, as you made people believe you had done. You didn’t even go to the station,” returned Max.
“Certainly I did not.”
“You had no intention, when you saw Marion at Cunnington’s, of leaving at all. Come, admit that.”
“You are quite right. I did not intend to leave London.”