“That is what I have been wondering. But I suppose it was the beard and the absence of any kind of association between Bendelow and the D’Arblays.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “A beard and moustache alters very greatly even a striking face like this. Incidentally, it illustrates the superiority of a picture over a verbal description for purposes of identification. No mere description will enable you to visualize correctly a face which you have never seen. I shall be curious to hear what Miss D’Arblay has to say about this photograph.”
“I will let you know without delay,” said I; and then, as he seemed to have completed his work, and put the documents aside, I made a final effort to extract some definite information from him.
“It is evident,” I said, “that the body of facts in your notes has conveyed a good deal more to you than it has to me.”
“Probably,” he agreed. “If it had not, I should seem to have profited little by years of professional practice.”
“Then,” I said persuasively, “may I ask if you have formed a really satisfactory theory as to who this man is and why he murdered D’Arblay?”
Thorndyke reflected for a few moments and then replied:
“My position, Gray, is this: I have arrived at a very definite theory as to the motive of the murder, and a most extraordinary motive it is. But there are one or two points that I do not understand. There are some links missing from the chain of evidence. So with the identity of the man. We know pretty certainly that he is the murderer of Van Zellen, and we know what he is like to look at, but we can’t give him a name and a definite personality. There are links missing there, too. But I have great hopes of finding those missing links. If I find them I shall have a complete case against this man, and I shall forthwith set the law in motion. I can’t tell you more than that at present, but I repeat that you are in possession of all the facts, and that if you think over all that has happened and ask yourself what it can mean, though you will not arrive at a complete solution any more than I have, you will at least begin to see the light.”
This was all that I could get out of him, and as it was now growing late I presently rose to take my departure. He walked with me as far as the Middle Temple Gate and stood outside the wicket watching me as I strode away westward.
XIV
The Haunted Man
When I arrived at the studio on the following afternoon I found the door open and Polton waiting just inside with his hat and overcoat on and his bag in his hand.
“I am glad you are punctual, Sir,” he said, with his benevolent smile. “I wanted to get back to the chambers in good time today. It won’t matter tomorrow, which is fortunate, as you may be late.”
“Why may I be late tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have a message for you from the doctor,” he replied. “It is about what you were discussing last night. He told me to tell you that he is expecting a visit from an officer of the Criminal Investigation Department, and he would like you to be present, if it would be convenient. About half-past ten, Sir.”
“I will certainly be there,” said I.
“Thank you, Sir,” said he. “And the doctor told me to warn you, in case you should arrive after the officer, not to make any comment on anything that may be said, or to seem to know anything about the subject of the interview.”
“This is very mysterious, Polton,” I remarked.
“Why, not particularly, Sir,” he replied. “You see the officer is coming to give certain information, but he will try to get some for himself if he can. But he won’t get anything out of the doctor; and the only way for you to prevent his pumping you is to say nothing and appear to know nothing.”
I laughed at his ingenuous wiliness. “Why,” I exclaimed, “you are as bad as the doctor, Polton. A regular Machiavelli.”
“I never heard of him,” said Polton, “but most Scotsmen are pretty close. Oh, and there is another little matter that I wanted to speak to you about—on my own account this time. I gathered from the doctor, in confidence, that someone had been following you about. Now, Sir, don’t you think it would be very useful to be able to see behind you without turning your head?”
“By Jove!” I exclaimed. “It would indeed! Capital! I never thought of it. I will have a supplementary eye fixed in the back of my head without delay.”
Polton crinkled deprecatingly. “No need for that, Sir,” said he. “I have invented quite a lot of different appliances for enabling you to see behind you; reflecting spectacles and walking sticks with prisms in the handle, and so on. But for use at night I think this will answer your purpose best.”
He produced from his pocket an object somewhat like a watchmaker’s eyeglass, and having fixed it in his eye to show me how it worked, handed it to me with the request that I would try it. I did so, and was considerably surprised at the efficiency of the appliance; for it gave me a perfectly clear view of the street almost directly behind me.
“I am very much obliged to you, Polton,” I said, enthusiastically. “This is a most valuable gift, especially under the present circumstances.”
He was profoundly gratified.
