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I led him to suppose that I was interested in the study of the Renaissance, and asked him if Bridwell had had a companion during his wanderings in Italy three years ago. For part of the time, at any rate, he had a partner rather than a companion, a man named Ormrod Peter Ormrod.
As a student, Bridwell would be likely to know all about the romances of poisoned bouquets, gloves, prepared sweetmeats, and the rest of the diabolical cunning which existed." "But we know that he didn't kill himself," I said. "Exactly. We have to find some one who shared the knowledge with him. Let me go back to the missing bag for a moment.
If the bag was lying on a side table he saw it and took it away; if it was lying in a drawer no doubt he found it while he was looking for letters from his wife to Bridwell, or for her photograph anything which would connect her name with Bridwell. Somehow, he found it and took it away. There is no one else who would be likely to take it." This was the solution.
"I certainly do not practice with any regularity of late!" Professor Bridwell laughed. "I daresay at our time of life leisure hours seem so unobtainable..." He looked at his cigarette case, polishing it with a thumb. Seeming to think better of smoking just then, however, he returned the case to his vest pocket. Gretchen's smile was thin.
The neighborhood was uncrowded, since so many students had left for their holidays, and though there were a few groups of people walking to and fro, dressed warmly against the weather, only the occasional carriage rattled by. Professor Bridwell led the way into a side street, where they were greeted by a brightly lit café. "I had no idea...," Gretchen began.
"I think we may be sure it was left there, because she states distinctly where it was left on the Chesterfield. There was something in her mind to fix the place. Moreover, she says, 'Better not send it. Very significant, that. Bridwell is to keep it until she comes again.
"Yes," he agreed. "I believe I shall walk myself. The air is good for the circulation, as long as one's pace is brisk." Gretchen rose, and took a curtsey. The Professor held her coat and stood attentively while she donned her gloves. "I do thank you most kindly for the enchanting evening, Professor Bridwell. It it has been marvelous." "Likewise, Miss Haviland.
"I have not had time to hunt up anybody on the private side yet, and I do not think it will be necessary. One of the men I saw was Reynolds, of the War Office. I was advised to go and see him, as he was supposed to know Bridwell well. He did not have much good to say about him.
His wife, after fencing with us a little, was perfectly open. She had arranged to go away with Bridwell and had visited him that day to talk over final arrangements. It was the first time she had ever been to the flat. Yesterday, a telegram had come for her husband. He opened it in her presence, and told her he was going away at once, and for good.
Gretchen looked around to see a fine pair of wool trousers, as she returned her weight fully to her feet. Following upward with her eyes, she felt a pleasant blush. "Professor Bridwell, you startled me!" she exclaimed. "Careful," he returned, reaching his hand above her head.
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