"
I thought I detected a faint smile on my friend's lips.
"I must apologise for my rudeness to you of last night," he
continued. "I expected, when I took the liberty of turning you
round, that I was going to find myself face to face with a much
younger man."
"I took you to be a detective," answered Ellenby, in his soft,
gentle voice. "You will forgive me, I'm sure. I am rather short-
sighted. Of course, I can only conjecture, but if you will take my
word, I can assure you that Mrs. Hepworth has never seen or heard
from the man Charlie Martin since the date of"--he hesitated a
moment--"of the murder."
"It would have been difficult," agreed my friend, "seeing that
Charlie Martin lies buried in Highgate Cemetery."
Old as he was, he sprang from his chair, white and trembling.
"What have you come here for?" he demanded.
"I took more than a professional interest in the case," answered my
friend. "Ten years ago I was younger than I am now. It may have
been her youth--her extreme beauty. I think Mrs. Hepworth, in
allowing her husband to visit her--here where her address is known
to the police, and watch at any moment may be set upon her--is
placing him in a position of grave danger. If you care to lay
before me any facts that will allow me to judge of the case, I am
prepared to put my experience, and, if need be, my assistance, at
her service.
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