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Updated: June 3, 2025
His eyes met mine, and I saw by his drawn face and narrow brows that my words were causing him the utmost consternation. My object was to make him believe that I knew more than I really did to hold him in fear, in fact. "Perhaps the man whom some know as Hornby, or Woodroffe, could tell an interesting story," I went on.
"Then why did the Leithcourts disappear so suddenly?" "Because of the appearance of the man Chater," I replied. "It is evident that they feared him, for they took every precaution against being followed. In fact, they fled leaving a big party of friends in the house. The man Woodroffe, now at the Hotel de Paris, is a friend of Leithcourt as well as of Chater."
"And the other man who is always with them is that short, stout, red-faced old fellow standing over there with the lady in pale blue, Sir Ughtred Gardner. Mr. Woodroffe has nicknamed him 'Sir Putrid." And we both laughed. "Of course, don't say I said so," she whispered. "They don't call him that to his face, but it's so easy to make a mistake in his name when he's not within hearing.
By some means exactly how is not quite certain the police discovered that Dick Archer, alias Woodroffe, alias Hornby, was concerned in the clever robbery of a dressing-bag, containing the Dowager Lady Lancashire's jewels, from her footman on Euston platform, and after a long search they found him hiding at an hotel in Liverpool.
But my friend was silent; his brows were deep knit. "Woodroffe is at the present moment in Petersburg," I said. "I've just come back from there." "In St. Petersburg!" he gasped, surprised. "Then he is with that villainous official, Baron Oberg, the Governor-General of Finland."
The pair, fearing that I should reveal what I knew, were undoubtedly in London to take my life in secret. Now that Leithcourt was dead, Woodroffe had united forces with Oberg, and intended to silence me because they feared that Elma, besides escaping them, had also revealed her secret. "I trust that the Signorina Leithcourt has explained the story of the yacht and its crew," Olinto remarked.
My resolve was to say as little as possible, for I had no desire to figure publicly at the inquiry, and consequently negative all my own efforts to solve the mystery of the Leithcourts and of Martin Woodroffe.
Woodroffe has been in Russia with you, has he not?" I replied in the affirmative, whereupon he said: "I thought so, but was not quite sure." "And Chater?" I inquired; "where is he?" "In London." "And the Leithcourts?" He shrugged his shoulders with a gesture of ignorance, adding: "The Signorina Muriel returned to London from Eastbourne this morning." "Where can I find her?" I inquired eagerly.
But of Woodroffe I had neither seen nor heard anything. It was a cold but dry November night in London, and I sat dining with Jack Durnford at a small table in the big, well-lit room of the Junior United Service Club.
Therefore we bowed, exchanging greetings as strangers, while, carefully watching, I saw how greatly the minds of both were relieved. They shot meaning glances at each other, and then, as though reassured that I was mystified and uncertain, the man who called himself Woodroffe explained to my companion "I've been over to Newton Stewart with Fred all day, and only got back a quarter of an hour ago.
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