Part 36 (1/2)

Then, just as the meeting was being brought to a conclusion, Jevons touched me on the shoulder, and we both slipped out.

”Well,” he asked. ”What do you think of it all?”

”I've been highly interested,” I replied. ”But how does this further our inquiries, or throw any light on the tragedy?”

”Be patient,” was his response, as we walked together in the direction of the Angel. ”Be patient, and I will show you.”

CHAPTER XXVII.

MR. LANE'S ROMANCE.

The Seven Secrets, each distinct from each other and yet connected; each one in itself a complete enigma, formed a problem of which even Ambler Jevons himself could not discover the solution.

Contrary to his usual methods, he allowed me to accompany him in various directions, making curious inquiries that had apparently nothing to connect them with the mystery of the death of Mr. and Mrs.

Courtenay.

In reply to a wire I had sent to Ethelwynn came a message saying that her mother was entirely prostrated, therefore she could not at present leave her. This, when shown to Ambler, caused him to purse his lips and raise his shoulders with that gesture of suspicion which was a peculiarity of his. Was it possible that he actually suspected her?

The name of Slade seemed ever in Jevons' mind. Indeed, most of his inquiries were regarding some person of that name.

One evening, after dining together, he took me in a cab across the City to the Three Nuns Hotel, at Aldgate--where, in the saloon bar, we sat drinking. Before setting out he had urged me to put on a shabby suit of clothes and a soft hat, so that in the East End we should not attract attention as ”swells.” As for his own personal appearance, it was certainly not that of the spruce city man. He was an adept at disguises, and on this occasion wore a reefer jacket, a peaked cap, and a dark violet scarf in lieu of collar, thus presenting the aspect of a seafarer ash.o.r.e. He smoked a pipe of the most approved nautical type, and as we sat together in the saloon he told me sea stories, in order that a group of men sitting near might overhear.

That he had some object in all this was quite certain, but what it was I could not gather.

Suddenly, after an hour, a little under-sized old man of dirty and neglected appearance, who had been drinking at the bar, shuffled up to us, and whispered something to Ambler that I did not catch. The words, nevertheless, caused my companion to start, and, disregarding the fresh whiskey and soda he had just ordered, he rose and walked out--an example which I followed.

”Lanky sent me, sir,” the old man said, addressing Ambler, when we were out in the street. ”He couldn't come hisself. 'E said you'd like to know the news.”

”Of course, I was waiting for it,” replied my companion, alert and eager.

”Well,” he said, ”I suppose I'd better tell yer the truth at once, sir.”

”Certainly. What is it?”

”Well, Lanky's dead.”

”Dead?” cried Ambler. ”Impossible. I was waiting for him.”

”I know. This morning in the Borough Market he told me to come 'ere and find you, because he wasn't able to come. 'E had a previous engagement. Lanky's engagements were always interestin',” he added, with a grim smile.

”Well, go on,” said Ambler, eagerly. ”What followed?”

”'E told me to go down to Tait Street and see 'im at eight o'clock, as 'e had a message for you. I went, and when I got there I found 'im lying on the floor of his room stone dead.”

”You went to the police, of course?”

”No, I didn't; I came here to see you instead. I believe the poor bloke's been murdered. 'E was a good un, too--poor Lanky Lane!”

”What!” I exclaimed. ”Is that man Lane dead?”