“I understood the Professor was abroad,” I remarked rather lamely.
“So he was. He came home specially to fulfil a long-standing engagement. He promised us to lecture, and gave us the date as far back as November last.”
“Do you know where he arrived from?” I inquired.
“Yes. He dined with us here before the lecture, and stayed with us the night. He told us at dinner that he had just returned from Roumania.”
“Then he did not leave Birmingham until this morning!” I cried. “Ah, how I wish I had known! Have you any idea where he has gone?”
“I went with him to the station this morning, and he took a ticket to Sheffield—to visit Sir Mark Edwards, I believe. He met at the station a friend who had been to the lecture and who had stayed at the Grand that night. He was introduced to me as Mr Kirk. Do you know him?”
“Kirk?” I gasped. “Yes; a tall, thin, grey-haired man—Mr Kershaw Kirk.”
“Yes. They travelled together,” said the Alderman. “It seemed as though Kirk came from London to meet the Professor, who had returned by the Hook of Holland to Harwich, and came on by the through carriage to Birmingham.”
“And you believe that Kirk has gone with the Professor to visit Sir Mark Edwards?” I exclaimed eagerly.
“I think so. If you sent a letter to the Professor at Sir Mark’s address, it’s quite probable that he would get it.”