I replied in the affirmative. It was, as you probably know yourself, a highly respectable crescent of large houses overlooking the park. Entrance was gained from the road in the rear, for the houses faced the park, perhaps one of the pleasantest rows of residences in London. The occupiers were mostly City merchants or well-to-do ladies.
“Well,” he said, “in one of those houses there has lived for the past five years or so Professor Ernest Greer, the well-known chemist, who, among other appointments, holds the Waynflete Professorship of Chemistry at Oxford University. Though his age is only about fifty-five, his whole career has been devoted to scientific research, with the result that he has amassed a considerable fortune from royalties gained from the new process he patented four years ago for the hardening of steel. I dare say you’ve often seen his name mentioned in the papers. He was a most popular man, and, with his daughter Ethelwynn, often went into society. In addition to the Regent’s Park house, they had a pretty seaside cottage down at Broadstairs.”
“I’ve seen the Professor’s name very often in the papers,” I remarked, “in connection, I think, with the British Association. I read, not long ago, an account of one of his interesting lectures at the London Institution.”
“Then you realise his high standing,” said Kirk, interpolating an aside to Joseph. “Well, Mrs Greer is dead, and the household at Regent’s Park consists of the Professor, Ethelwynn, her maid Morgan, two housemaids, a female cook, and the butler Antonio Merli, an elderly Italian, who has been in the Professor’s service for nearly twenty years. On the evening before last—that was Sunday—at twenty minutes to five o’clock, the Professor and his daughter were together in the large upstairs drawing-room, which overlooks the park, where Antonio served tea. Five minutes later Antonio re-entered and handed his master a telegram. The Professor, having read it, placed it upon the fire, and remarked that he would be compelled to go to Edinburgh that night by the 11:30 from King’s Cross, but would return in three days’ time, for the girl had accepted an invitation for the grand ball at Sutherland House to-morrow.”
“The Professor sent no reply to the message?” I asked, much interested.
“No; but half an hour later his actions struck his daughter as somewhat peculiar, for, having suddenly glanced up at the clock, he rose, crossed to one of the three long windows—the end one—and drew up the blind. Then, after a pause, he lowered it again. Then twice he pulled it up and down quickly, and returned again to where he was sitting. At least, that is his daughter’s story.”
“He signalled to somebody—using the Morse code, I should say.”
“Exactly my theory, Mr Holford. I note that you follow me,” exclaimed the friendless man. “You possess a keen sense of deduction, I see!”
“Apparently you don’t believe this statement of Miss Ethelwynn’s?” I said.
He sniffed quickly, but did not at first reply.