“I don’t deny that. Why should I?”
I shrugged my shoulders impatiently. His evasion was always cunning, always well-contrived.
“When you first brought me here,” I said, “it was to obtain my assistance to discover who killed Professor Greer, and—”
“And you made a promise which you did not keep!” he interrupted. “Hence I have been unable to keep faith with you. Is not that quite feasible?”
“My wife’s disappearance is the point which most concerns me,” I said. “The other matter is, to me, of secondary importance. If you cared to divulge, you could tell me my wife’s whereabouts. I happen to know that she has been in Vienna, staying at the Hôtel Continental, and she has been seen in your company, Mr Kirk.”
“Now that’s really quite smart of you!” he laughed, with a patronising air, his grey face changing slightly, I thought. “I wonder how you came to know that?”
“The source of my information does not matter,” I said sharply. “Suffice it that it is a reliable one.”
“Well,” he laughed, “since that evening when you sat with me in Bedford Park I’ve been compelled to be active, and I’ve discovered quite a number of things which at that time I never dreamed—facts that have amazed me, as they will, before long, amaze you, Holford.”
“Nothing can amaze me in this crooked affair,” I declared. “You sought my aid in an endeavour to discover who killed Professor Greer, yet, having gained my confidence, you at once abused it!” I cried, with bitter reproach.
“That is your present opinion,” he said, with a keen, crafty look.