That night on arrival home, he told the Professor of his discovery, and both father and son agreed that it was necessary to make some searching investigations regarding Mrs. Beverley’s friend.
With that object Geoffrey went up to London on the following day, and calling upon Sylvia fortunately found her alone.
With difficulty he approached the subject of Glover, because he knew that the girl suspected him of jealousy. She had, indeed, hinted at it on the night of the dance. However, in the course of conversation, he casually referred to the man who had despatched that curious telegram from the liner.
“Oh, yes!” the girl answered. “We see quite a lot of Mr. Glover now. Mother likes him immensely. He is enormously rich—has great oil interests in Roumania and in Baku. He made a great deal of money during the war, and he knows quite a number of good people in London. He’s going down to Lady Nassington’s, in Sussex, next week—and we are going too.”
“You will be fellow-guests then?” Falconer remarked.
“Yes, Geoffrey. But you speak as though you resent it,” laughed the pretty girl.
“Not at all,” he hastened to assure her. “Only——”
“Only—what?” she asked.
“Well—nothing,” he replied. “At least, nothing at present.”
“You’re awfully mysterious, Geoffrey. What do you really mean?”