And on the luggage label was printed in hand-writing the following inscription:—
“So perish all traitors. Be warned in time. The girl may be the next.”
Horrified though he was, Westerham made no sign. He had stood in the presence of death before, and he had faced it in more dreadful forms, though it is true he had never known it so intimately and so poignantly.
“The girl may be the next,” the words seemed ominous—like a doom. Troubles encompassed him on every side. An hour or so previously he had faced the greatest odds he had ever known till then. The odds were greater now.
Conscious that the keen eyes of Rookley were upon him, he saw that instant action was necessary, and turning on his heel he walked deliberately into the sitting-room.
The detective followed him, and then seating himself at the table, Westerham bade the man take a chair.
For a moment the detective's face lighted up with anticipation. It seemed to him that at last the mysterious Mr. Robinson was about to make some statement. His anticipations were, however, to be disappointed.
“Well,” said Westerham, in a pleasant, even voice, “I am waiting for you to begin.”
“I was hoping,” said Mr. Rookley, “that you were about to make some statement.”
“I never make statements,” said Westerham, “any more than I answer questions which are inconvenient. What have you to say?”
Suddenly the detective leant forward and spoke so quickly that Westerham was almost thrown off his guard.
“I can only give you the same answer,” said Westerham, “which I gave you before—that my name is my own business.”
“You are aware, of course,” pursued Rookley, “that the present occasion is more serious than the last. You seem to have an unfortunate habit of coming in on the heels of awkward occurrences.”
“It does seem like it just now,” agreed Westerham.
There was a pause and Westerham was the first to speak again. “As you yourself know full well that I was not here when this business happened, I think that you had better clear the ground by telling me all you know if you wish me to assist you.”
Rookley looked at him sharply, but decided that Westerham was right.
“At about ten o'clock two men called and asked for you. Both of them were dressed rather like sailors, one man being short, the other tall. They were told that you were out.