“Anything further?”

“Mr. Hume asked Miss Layton to go and see if Mrs. Capella had retired for the night.  Miss Layton came back, looking rather scared, with the information that Mrs. Capella had dressed and gone out.  After a little further talk we came to the conclusion that you were both together.  Was that so?”

Brett had commenced his cross-examination with the intention of humorously proving to Winter that he (the detective) would suspect the wrong person of committing the imagined murder.  Now he straightened himself, and continued in deadly earnest: 

“When did you leave the hotel?”

“About 10.15.”

“Had not Mrs. Capella returned?”

“Not a sign of her.  Miss Layton was alarmed, both the men furious, Mr. Robert particularly so.  I did not see any use in remaining there; thought, in fact, I ought to obey orders and await you here, so here I am.”

The barrister scribbled on a card:  “Is Mrs. C. at home?” He rang for Smith, and said: 

“Take a cab to Mr. Hume’s hotel.  Give him that card, and bring me the answer.  If you and the cabman must have a drink together, kindly defer the function until after your return.”

Smith took such jibes in good part.  He knew full well that to attempt to argue with his master would produce a list of previous convictions.

Then Brett proceeded to amaze Winter in his turn, giving him a full, true, and complete history of events since his parting from Mrs. Capella in the corridor.

He had barely finished the recital when Smith returned with a note: 

“Yes; she came in at 10.45, and has since retired for the night.  She says that her head ached, that she wanted to be alone, and went for a long walk.  Seemed rather to resent our anxiety.  Helen and I will be glad when we are all safely away from London.  D.H.”

The barrister pondered over this communication for a long time.

“I fear,” he said at last, “that I came away from Middle Street a few minutes too soon.  To tell the truth, I was in an abject state of fear.  Next time I meet Mr. Frazer the Third I will be ready for him.”

“Is he really so like the others that he might be mistaken for one of them?”

“In a sense, yes.  He has the same figure, general conformation, and features.  But in other respects he is utterly different.  Have you ever seen a great actor in the role of Mephistopheles?”

“I don’t remember.  My favourite villain was Barry Sullivan as Richard III.”

Brett laughed hysterically.

“Let me speak more plainly.  You have, no doubt, a vague picture in your mind of a certain gentleman of the highest descent who is popularly credited with the possession of horns, hoofs, and a barbed tail?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Very well.  You will see someone very like him, minus the adornments aforesaid, when you set eyes on the principal occupant of 37 Middle Street.”