“If so, then there are undoubtedly thieves within. Since I’ve been waiting here the light in the small drawing-room overlooking the Park has been extinguished—put out, no doubt, immediately I rang. No,” he went on, “we must call the police. Will you go and get a constable—or shall I?”
“You go,” I said, in a blank voice. “I—I’ll wait here.”
I saw that the game was up. His suspicions were aroused, and he intended to take immediate action.
“There’s sure to be a policeman along at Clarence Gate,” he said; “I’ve often noticed a man on point-duty there. But,” he added, suddenly facing me and looking straight into my eyes, for the street-lamp shone brightly upon the spot where we were standing, “tell me, Mr Holford, have you told me the actual truth?”
“The truth!” I echoed. “Why, of course I have! Here is my card,” and I gave him one from my cigarette-case, wherein I always carried them.
He read it eagerly, and in exchange gave me one of his, laughing as he said:
“I feared, perhaps, that you might be in association with the men inside. Forgive me for suspecting you, won’t you?”
“Of course. I knew you doubted me,” I answered, smiling. “I’ll remain here until you return, though, to be frank, I don’t see very much cause for alarm.”
“I do. There’s a mystery here—one which we must fathom. Keep watch. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
And he left the steps and, turning to the left, disappeared round the corner.