At the end of three days the detective rang him up. The message was brief: "Come and see me."
Bryant received him in his room. "Well, Major Murchison, your suspicions are quite correct. I have been very close to the interesting pair. Mrs. Spencer has camouflaged herself very well, but beyond doubt she is Norah Burton. Our gaol-bird, George Burton, has been less particular. He has not disguised himself at all; the few years have made little or no impression on him. He has hid himself in the City, trusting that nobody he ever knew would come across him."
"Then I was right, after all, Mr. Bryant. And now what would you advise me to do? This woman is the worst type of adventuress card-sharper all through—at least a confederate, in Paris with Burton, in London with Tommy Esmond. To be fair, we cannot say how much or how little she knew of his forgery business."
"Your idea is to turn her out of her husband's house, with or without scandal?" queried the detective.
"Without scandal, if possible. I would prefer that. I suppose you would back me up by saying that you have recognised her and this scoundrel who was yesterday her brother and is to-day her cousin?"
"If you push me to it, I will, Major Murchison, for the sake of our old acquaintance. But, for reasons which I stated last time we met, I don't want to mix myself up in a purely private affair. The woman caught hold of a fool in your friend Pomfret; she has caught hold of another equally silly fool in your friend Mr. Spencer. Please forgive my blunt language, but it is so, is it not?"
"You are quite right, Bryant," groaned poor Hugh. "I seem fated to be mixed up in these matters. At the present moment I have a little stunt on, in which I don't require any help. A younger brother of mine has got mixed up with a young harpy in the chorus of a third-rate theatre. The young fool has written compromising letters to her. I am trying to buy these letters. I need hardly tell you she is asking a high price. I can't see her at my own place, for fear of my brother popping in. I have taken rooms in a suburb where I see her to carry on the bargaining."
Mr. Bryant raised his hands. "Well, sir, when a woman once begins to twist a man round her little finger there is no knowing to what length he will go."
"Profoundly true, Mr. Bryant. Well, what do you advise me to do?"
"For the moment, nothing. Get a little more evidence. When I watched this couple, I took my old friend Parkinson with me. He knows them now. Get him to watch them. He will tell you where they meet, and how often. Here is his card. He will wait on you at your convenience."