'Wells.'
'Thank you, Mr. Wells, but I don't think that will be necessary” said Moreau. 'Perhaps I should not even have come. I just thought, perhaps-'
'Why don't we sit down?' said Wells. 'There is obviously something troubling you. If there is anything that I can do to help, I will certainly try.'
'Yes, all right,' said Moreau, taking the seat Wells indicated. They sat down at a desk.
'Now then.' said Wells, 'what about this murder?'
'Well, I have a daughter, you see,' Moreau said hesitantly. 'That is, I had a daughter. I have not seen her for quite some time. She came to London and, well. I have been searching for her-'
'And you thought perhaps this dead girl could be your daughter?' said Wells. 'You wanted to satisfy yourself as to her identity?'
'Yes, precisely.' said Moreau. 'The newspaper gave her name as Gordon. I know, but it is possible that she had taken another name…'
'I understand,' said Wells. 'However, if that had been the case, we would really have no way of knowing, you understand. You realize that the odds of this poor murdered girl being your missing daughter are really quite small.' -
'Yes, yes, highly unlikely, I know,' said Moreau, 'but something told me-I just simply had to know, you see. Perhaps if I could speak to someone who had an opportunity to view the remains..'
'I do not know if that would help you. Doctor,' Wells said. 'As I understand it, the body was… well, the poor girl's face was damaged beyond all recognition. Her neighbors identified her mainly by her clothing and a few personal possessions. The murder was quite savage. Considering the odds, why subject yourself needlessly to such an ordeal?'
'You don't understand,' said Moreau, 'I must know. The nature of the wounds, the manner in which-' He suddenly caught himself and stopped.
'What about the nature of the wounds, Doctor?' Wells said. watching him carefully. 'Why should that happen to interest you?'
'Nothing, you misunderstood Inc.' said Moreau. 'I am merely distraught. I should not have come here. Forgive me for taking up your valuable time…'
'One moment, Doctor,' Wells said, catching him by the arm.
'Please,' said Moreau. -Let me go.'
'Not just yet, Doctor,' said Wells. 'I do not think that I misunderstood you. And something tells me that you are not being entirely truthful with me. Why come to the newspaper? Why not go to the police?'
'Yes, undoubtedly that is what I should have done,' Moreau said, “I merely thought that — '
'Why don't we go see the police together?' Wells said. 'We can go right now.'
'No, really, thank you, but there is no need for you to trouble yourself. It's really quite-'
'You really do not want to go to the police, do you?' said Wells. 'Why is that? What are you afraid of'
Moreau looked at him with alarm. 'I see what you are thinking,' he said. 'You think perhaps I may have had something to do with this crime.'
'I am merely wondering why you seem reluctant to go to the police.' Wells said. 'Why are you so interested in this murder? What is it about the nature of the wounds? What do you mean? You are not really seeking a missing daughter. are you?'
“Yes, of course I am, — Moreau said. 'Why else would I be so concerned?'
'That is what I would like to know. Dr. Moreau,' Wells said. 'You are obviously an educated man, and yet the newspaper reports clearly stated that the dead girl was a Cockney. strictly working class. Moreover, your accent is slight. but definitely French, I think, as is your name. I suppose it is possible that an educated French gentleman could have a daughter by a Cockney mother. but then if that were so, why would you be reluctant to go to the police? That would be the natural avenue of inquiry for a man seeking a missing daughter, would it not?'
A number of the people in the office had become interested in the conversation. 'What is it?' one of them said. 'Some sort of problem?'
'Please,' said Moreau in a low voice. 'I cannot discuss this here.'
'I think we had best get to the bottom of this, Dr. Moreau,' Wells said.
“No, let me go,' Moreau said, pulling away, but Wells would not let go. Moreau's sleeve was pulled back, exposing a strange-looking bracelet. It caught Wells' attention. It was made from an unusual black material, with small, numbered studs arranged upon it in a pattern.
'What's this?' said Wells, looking down at it.
'Don't touch it!• Moreau said, jerking his arm back violently.
'I think perhaps we had better speak with the police,' said Wells.
Moreau looked around frantically, seeing himself being hemmed in. 'Please,' he said, 'I beg you no police. They would not understand. I swear to you. I am no criminal.'
'Who is this chap, Bertie?' one of the other reporters said. 'What's he on about?'
'Have we got some kind of trouble here?' another said. 'Please,' Moreau said softly. And then his eyes grew wide. 'Bertie?' he said. 'Herbert Wells?'
'Yes,• said Wells, looking at him strangely.
'Herbert George Wells?'
'How is it that you happen to know my full name, Doctor'?' Wells said. 'I did not give it to you and I do not use it professionally… I am certain we have never met.'
'Please, Mr. Wells,' Moreau said, 'I promise to answer all your questions, but we must speak somewhere in private. I assure you that I have no personal involvement in this killing but I believe I know who was responsible.'
'Very well.' said Wells, 'but I promise you that if you do not adequately explain yourself. I will summon the police.'
Moreau nodded. 'Very well, I shall accept that. But please let us speak in private.'
'There is a small teashop just down the street,' said Wells. 'Come, we can talk there. Give me your ann.'
You think I will try to run away?' Moreau said.
'I think you are a desperate man. Dr. Moreau.' said Wells. 'There is an edge of hysteria in your voice and panic in your eyes. Very well, we shall simply walk together, but if you run off, rest assured that I am quite capable of giving the police a completely accurate and detailed description of you.'
Moreau nodded. They left the building together and started walking down the street towards one of the teashops operated by the Aerated Bread Company.
'What is that curious bracelet on your wrist?' said Wells. 'If I told you the truth' Moreau said 'you would not believe me. You would think me mad.'
'I never leap to uninformed conclusions, Doctor,' Wells said.
'No. you wouldn't,' said Moreau, smiling. 'Not you. Wells frowned. 'I find your remarks most puzzling. You behave as if you knew me.'
'In a manner of speaking, I do.' Moreau said. 'Shall I tell you what I know? You are at the moment living with a woman whom you introduce to your neighbors as your wife, although she is not your wife. At least not yet. Her name is Amy Catherine Robbins and you call her Jane. She was a student of yours. You left your wife, Isabel for her. You were not always a journalist. You used to teach once under Professor Huxley at the Normal School of Science in South Kensington. You have two brothers. Frank and Freddy; you have been astigmatic from an early age and your health was always poor. You almost died of appendicitis in your youth and you broke your leg when you were seven years old-'
'Good God!' said Wells. 'How is possible that you know so much about me?'
'I will tell you the complete truth, Mr. Wells.' Moreau said 'because I am in desperate need of help and I believe that you can give it to me, but I must tell it to you slowly, otherwise you will surely think me mad. I must convince you that I am not. More than you could possibly realize depends upon it.'
