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Page 20
"Even for a very charming lady," I said "I can not misrepresent the
facts in a matter so important. It was after seven--"
"I am not asking you to do a favor for a lady," she replied. "I
am asking you to do a favor for yourself. If you refuse the
consequences may be most unpleasant."
"I'm rather at a loss--" I began.
She was silent for a moment. Then she turned and I felt her
looking at me through the veil.
"Who was Archibald Enwright?" she demanded. My heart sank. I
recognized the weapon in her hands. "The police," she went on,
"do not yet know that the letter of introduction you brought to
the captain was signed by a man who addressed Fraser-Freer as
Dear Cousin, but who is completely unknown to the family. Once
that information reaches Scotland Yard, your chance of escaping
arrest is slim.
"They may not be able to fasten this crime upon you, but there will
be complications most distasteful. One's liberty is well worth
keeping--and then, too, before the case ends, there will be wide
publicity--"
"'Well?" said I.
"That is why you are going to suffer a lapse of memory in the
matter of the hour at which you heard that struggle. As you think
it over, it is going to occur to you that it may have been
six-thirty, not seven. Otherwise--"
"Go on."
"Otherwise the letter of introduction you gave to the captain will
be sent anonymously to Inspector Bray."
"You have that letter!" I cried.
"Not I," she answered. "But it will be sent to Bray. It will be
pointed out to him that you were posing under false colors. You
could not escape!"
I was most uncomfortable. The net of suspicion seemed closing in
about me. But I was resentful, too, of the confidence in this
woman's voice.
"None the less," said I, "I refuse to change my testimony. The
truth is the truth--"
The woman had moved to the door. She turned.
"To-morrow," she replied, "it is not unlikely you will see Inspector
Bray. As I said, I came here to give you advice. You had better
take it. What does it matter--a half-hour this way or that? And
the difference is prison for you. Good night."
She was gone. I followed into the hall. Below, in the street, I
heard the rattle of her taxi.
I went back into my room and sat down. I was upset, and no mistake.
Outside my windows the continuous symphony of the city played on
--the busses, the trains, the never-silent voices. I gazed out.
What a tremendous acreage of dank brick houses and dank British
souls! I felt horribly alone. I may add that I felt a bit
frightened, as though that great city were slowly closing in on me.
Who was this woman of mystery? What place had she held in the life
--and perhaps in the death--of Captain Fraser-Freer? Why should
she come boldly to my rooms to make her impossible demand?
I resolved that, even at the risk of my own comfort, I would stick
to the truth. And to that resolve I would have clung had I not
shortly received another visit--this one far more inexplicable,
far more surprising, than the first.
It was about nine o'clock when Walters tapped at my door and told
me two gentlemen wished to see me. A moment later into my study
walked Lieutenant Norman Fraser-Freer and a fine old gentleman with
a face that suggested some faded portrait hanging on an aristocrat's
wall. I had never seen him before.
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