Part 17 (1/2)

You see, I saw Drummond in the flesh, alive and vigorous, a good half hour after he is reported to have leaped to his death.”

”Where?”

”Coming up the stairs from the down-town Subway station in front of the Park Avenue Hotel. He wore a hat pulled down over his eyes and an old overcoat b.u.t.toned tight up to his chin. He was carrying a satchel bearing the initials C. S. D., but was otherwise pretty thoroughly disguised, and, I fancied, anxious enough to escape recognition.”

”You're positive about this?”

”My dear man,” said Ember with an air, ”I saw his ear distinctly.”

”His ear!”

”I never forget an ear; I've made a special study of them. They're the last parts of the human anatomy that criminals ever think to disguise; and, to the trained eye, as infallible a means of identification--nearly--as thumb-prints. The man I saw coming up from the Subway kept as much as possible away from the light; he had successfully hidden most of his face; but he wore the inches, the hand-bag, and the ear of Carter S. Drummond. I don't think I can be mistaken.”

”Did you stop him--speak to him?”

Ember shook his head. ”No. I doubt if he would have remembered me. Our acquaintance has been of the slightest, limited to a couple of meetings.

Besides, I was in a hurry to get to the theatre, and at that time had heard nothing of this reputed suicide.”

”Which way did he go?”

”Toward the Pennsylvania station, I fancy; that is, he turned west through Thirty-third Street. I didn't follow--I was getting into a taxi when I caught sight of him.”

”But what did you think to see him disguised? Didn't it strike you as curious?”

”Very,” said Ember dryly. ”At the same time, it was none of my affair--then. Nor did it present itself to me as a matter worth meddling with until, later, my suspicions were aroused by the scene in the theatre--obviously the result of your appearance there--and still later, when I heard the suicide report.”

”But--good Lord!” Whitaker pa.s.sed a hand across his dazed eyes. ”What can it mean? Why should he do this thing?”

”There are several possible explanations.... How long has Drummond known that you were alive?”

”Since noon to-day.”

”Not before?”

”Not to my knowledge.”

”Still, it's possible. If he has a sensitive nature--I think he hasn't--the shame of being found out, caught trying to marry your wife when he had positive knowledge you still lived, may have driven him to drop out of sight. Again.... May I ask, what was the extent of your property in his trust?”

”A couple of hundred-thousands.”

”And he believed you dead and was unable to find your widow ...”

”Oh, I don't think _that_!” Whitaker expostulated.

”Nor do I. We're merely considering possible explanations. There's a third ...”

”Well?”

”He may have received a strong hint that he was nominated for the fate that overtook young Custer, Hamilton and Thurston; and so planned to give his disappearance the colour of a similar end.”