“Oh! he’d been at sea, had he?” I remarked, as that statement confirmed the suspicion that the man called Dick was actually Richard Keene—the person whose return had struck terror in the heart of both Lolita and the Countess.
“He said so,” was her answer. “’E also said that he knew something of these parts, and made a lot of inquiries about the death of old Lord Stanchester, the present Earl’s marriage and all that. In fact it somehow struck me that he had known the family long ago, and was anxious to hear about the recent happenings over at the Hall.”
“He made no remark about the man found dead in the park?” asked the doctor.
“No. Not to my recollection. But Mr Logan did. He seemed very concerned about it, and I believe he went over to Sibberton one evening to see the spot. Only he didn’t tell us. We knew from the ostler at the Fox and Hounds in Brigstock, where he hired a trap.”
This negatived the theory that Logan was the man I had met in Chelsea, for if he were, he would surely not have wished to visit a place he had already seen. Indeed, he would, no doubt, have kept away from it as far as possible.
Compelled as I was to veil from my companion the reason of my inquiries, he regarded them, of course, as unnecessary, and did not fail to tell me so in his plain blunt fashion.
“There’s one thing quite certain,” he remarked as we cantered home together in the crimson sundown, “there’s a lot of mystery connected with those people. I wonder if there really has been a tragedy, and if the man Logan actually made an attempt upon the young fellow, as the girl had declared. It’s a great pity,” he added, “that we don’t know their surnames.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “If we did, we might perhaps establish their connexion with the affair in Sibberton Park.”
“Is it wise to tell Redway what we’ve heard?” he suggested.
In an instant I saw that to do such a thing would be to break my promise to Mademoiselle, therefore I expressed myself entirely against such a course, saying—