‘Most emphatically. I have the honour to know both men, and am in a position to state that they are totally distinct individuals--bearing a kind of resemblance to each other in certain broad characteristics--height, figure, complexion--a resemblance that might mislead a man seeing one of the two for a few moments, as you saw Chicot----’ ‘How do you know how often I saw Chicot?’ ‘I draw my inference from your own conduct. If you had seen him often--if you had seen him more than once--you could not possibly mistake him for Mr. Treverton, or Mr. Treverton for him.’ Edward Clare shrugged his shoulders, and sat looking frowningly at the fire for some moments. Whatever this man Desrolles knew, or whatever he thought, it was evident that there was very little to be got out of him. ‘You are very positive,’ Edward said presently, ‘so I suppose you are right. After all, I can have no desire to identify the husband of a woman I highly esteem with such a fellow as this Chicot. I want only to protect her interests. Married to a scoundrel, what might not be her fate? Perhaps as terrible as that of the dancer.’ Desrolles answered nothing. He was lying back in the rocking chair, resting, his eyes half closed. ‘Have you seen Chicot since his wife was murdered?’ asked Edward, after a pause. ‘No one has seen him. It is my belief that he made straight for one of the bridges, and drowned himself.’ ‘In that case his body would have been found, and his death made known to the police.’ ‘You would not say that if you were a Londoner. How many nameless corpses do you think are fished out of the Thames every week--how many unrecognised corpses lie in the East-end dead-houses waiting for some one to claim them, and are never claimed or identified, and go to the paupers’ burial-ground without a name? The police did not know Chicot. They had only his description to guide them in their search for him. I am very clear in my mind that the poor devil put himself out of their way in the most effectual manner.’ ‘You think he murdered his wife?’ Desrolles shrugged his shoulders dubiously. ‘I think nothing,’ he answered. ‘Why should I think the very worst of a man who was my friend? But I know he bolted. The inference is against his innocence.’ ‘If he is alive it shall be my business to find him,’ said Edward savagely. ‘The crime was brutal--unprovoked--inexcusable--and if it is in my power to bring it home to him he shall suffer for it.’ ‘You speak as if you had a personal animosity,’ said Desrolles. ‘I could understand the detectives being savage with him, for he has led them a pretty dance, and they have been held up to ridicule for their failure in catching him. But why you--a gentleman living at ease here--should feel thus strongly----’ ‘I have my reasons,’ said Edward.