earlier than you expected, didn't you?" Iremarked.
"Yes. I had some business in town," was his brief response.
"I see from the papers that they've discovered nothing regarding thataffair in Charlton Wood."
"No," he remarked in a mechanical tone. "And I don't expect they everwill. The assassin, whoever he was, got away without leaving a trace,"and then he cleverly diverted our conversation into a different channel.
I feared to discuss it further. The man was Sybil's enemy, andtherefore mine. He evidently knew that we had met on that evening ofher arrival in London, and was actively at work to trace her.
Indeed, when I afterwards reflected, I saw that in all probability hehad watched me that morning, and had purposely encountered me.
To each other we were outwardly still extremely friendly. Indeed Iinvited him to my rooms that evening to smoke, and he accepted, for hehad a motive in so doing, while I, on my part, had resolved to watch himcarefully.
I lunched at the Bachelors', and though anxious to go and see Sybil, Iwas compelled to content myself with sending her a telegram, saying thatI had been ordered by my foreman to go up to Manchester in connectionwith some new linotype machinery, and must therefore be absent two orthree days. I sent the message so that she might show it to MrsWilliams.
Soon after four o'clock I set forth upon another expedition, namely, bytrain from Victoria to Upper Sydenham Station. The autumn dusk wasfalling when I turned into Sydenham Hill, the wide winding road of largedetached houses leading from Forest Hill up to the Crystal Palace.Essentially the residence of the wealthy City man, and an eminentlyrespectable district, the houses stand in their own grounds with big oldtrees around, commanding fine views of South London. I was in search ofKeymer, and being directed by a postman, found it a little way higher upthan the turning known as Rock Hill, a large old-fashioned red brickplace, with fine old elms standing in the grounds. An oak fence dividedit from the footway, and as I passed I saw that the pink-shaded electriclamps in the drawing-room were alight, while at the grand piano wassitting a neat female figure in black.
A servant in a smart French cap was letting down the Venetian blinds,and as I watched through the gate I saw that the lady had stoppedplaying and turned upon the stool to speak to her.
At the same instant the figure of a man stole across the room, a tall,shadowy figure, and came up behind the woman, causing her to start fromher seat, while at that moment the blind was lowered, and the artisticinterior was suddenly shut out from my view.
One thing caused me to remain there in wonder. Perhaps my eyes haddeceived me, but I could not help thinking that when that vague malefigure crossed the room the woman started up with a look of terror.From where I stood I could not see distinctly, yet I felt certain thatthe person who had entered was unwelcome and unexpected.
The other blinds had already been lowered, for it was now nearly dark,and beneath the wide portico a light shone above the door. The groundswere well kept, and the greenhouse beside the drawing-room showedcareful attention, while on the gravelled drive were the wheel-marks ofcarriages. Mr John Parham was evidently well off, in all probability aCity man, like most of his neighbours. I sauntered past, wondering bywhat means I could ascertain something about him.
The doleful sound of the muffin-bell rang in the distance, and far upthe road I saw the lamplighter going his round, the street lampsspringing up from the darkness at regular intervals. I went towardshim, and stopping him, made inquiries regarding the tenant of Keymer.
"'E's a very nice gentleman, sir," replied the man. "Always gives goodChristmas-boxes."
"Married?"
"Yes, sir. But 'e has no children. They keep a carriage--one o' themthere open ones."
"Now I want to know something about him," I said, slipping a coin intothe man's hand. "Do you happen to know anybody who could tell me?"
The man looked at me suspiciously, and asked,--"Pardon me, sir, butyou're a detective, p'r'aps?"
"No," I laughed. "Not at all. It is merely private curiosity--over--well, over a little matter of business. I'm a business man--not apoliceman."
"Well," he said, "there's 'Arry Laking, what keeps the gate of theCrystal Palace grounds in Palace Park Road. 'E's their cook's brother.'E'd tell you something, for 'e often goes there when the family areout."
"Where's Palace Park Road?"
"Go up to the front of the Palace and keep round to the left till youcome to the gate. It's almost the other side of the grounds."
I acted upon his suggestion, and after walking some distance I came tothe turnstile in the wall dividing the Palace grounds from the road, andthere I found a middle-aged man in uniform idling over the eveningpaper, for that gate was little used, save by season-ticket holders.
On inquiry I discovered that he was the man of whom I was in search, andafter a little judicious greasing of the palm I induced him to tell mewhat he knew of his sister's master and mistress.
"Mr Parham is a wholesale jeweller in the city," he said. "He oftengoes abroad for weeks at a time to buy. His wife is young, but Annietells me she leads a very lonely life. They're a wealthy, but anunhappy pair, that's my opinion. Yet they know all the best people inSydenham, and Mr Parham gives grand at-homes and dinner-parties."
"She's unhappy, you say," I ventured, recollecting the curious scene Ihad witnessed at the instant of lowering the blinds.
"Yes. Annie has overheard their quarrels. The master, she says, hassuch a hold over the mistress that she dare not call her soul her own.There was a scene between them about three weeks ago. They quarrelledat the dinner-table, and Mrs Parham left the room, went upstairs, wrotea letter and tried to commit suicide by drinking some sublimate. Hermaid got hold of the letter, and then succeeded in saving her mistress'slife, for fortunately the solution wasn't strong enough. But it madeher very ill, and she was in bed a week, while her husband took himselfoff, and never inquired after her. The servants all pity poor littleMrs Parham, and say that her husband's a brute to her. There wasanother terrible row once, when her brother called and overheard MrParham threaten her in the next room. They say that the two men came toblows, and that he gave Parham a thorough good hiding, which he richlydeserved. Mrs Parham's brother is not a fellow to be trifled with,they say, for Parham had to plead for his life. Afterwards, the beatendog vowed vengeance, and the poor wife had a terrible time of it."
"A rather unhappy household," I remarked.
"Very. Annie tells me a lot. She wouldn't stay there--nor would any ofthe servants--only the wages are so good."
I saw that the man knew more than he cared to divulge. He was no friendof Parham's, and was certainly on the side of the ill-used wife.
"Is Parham young or old?"
"Not very old--fat, fairish, rather bald, with a round face and a longnose. Mrs Parham is quite young, about twenty-six, and people call hergood-lookin', but myself I'm no judge o' women. I've my missus, andshe's the best-lookin' of 'em all in my eyes. Of course, Mrs Parhamdresses smartly, and drives in a fine carriage. She comes to theSaturday concerts sometimes."
"You don't like Parham," I said. "Come, tell the truth."
"No, I don't," he declared, after a slight hesitation. "He's a wrong'un--I know that. Only, of course, that's strictly between you and me,"he added in confidence.
"I'd like to know your sister," I said, quite frankly. "I'll make itworth her while if she'll ask me in and let me see the house. She mightdo it when her mistress is out."
He shook his head dubiously.
"I don't think she'd let a stranger see inside, sir."
"Well, there's no harm in trying. Will you take me and introduce me?"I asked. "Take me this evening. When do you go off duty?"
"In about half an hour."
"Then we'll walk down there and call," I suggested. "Here's my card,"and I handed him the card of a barrister friend of mine which bore anaddress in the Temple.
He hesitated, but when he found another hal
f-sovereign in his palm heconsented, not, however, without a good deal of curiosity as to my realobject.
What he had told me regarding the Parhams, in addition to that strangescene I had witnessed from the roadway, aroused my suspicion. I somehowfelt confident that there was some connection between this man whoill-treated his wife so brutally and the unfortunate victim of thetragedy in rural Sussex I waited in a neighbouring bar until Laking cameoff duty, and then we walked together down Sydenham Hill to the housecalled Keymer.
My companion entered by the