"It looks as if your patient had called at Steel's house by appointment," Bell admitted. "Here is the invitation undoubtedly in Steel's handwriting. Subsequently the poor fellow is found in Steel's house nearly murdered, and yet Steel declares solemnly that the man is a perfect stranger to him. It is a bad business, but I assure you that Steel is the soul of honour. Cross, would you be so good as to let me have that letter for two or three days?" "Very well," Cross said, after a little hesitation. "Good-night." Bell went on his way homeward with plenty of food for thought. He stopped just for a moment to light a cigar. "Getting towards the light," he muttered; "getting along. The light is not going to fail after all. I wonder what Reginald Henson would say if he only knew that I had been to the hospital and recognised our mutual friend Van Sneck there!" CHAPTER XXIII INDISCRETION The expression on Henson's usually benign countenance would have startled such of his friends and admirers as regarded him as a shining light and great example. The smug satisfaction, the unctuous sweetness of the expansive blue eyes were gone; a murderous gleam shone there instead. His lips were set and rigid, the strong hand seemed to be strangling the bedclothes. It wanted no effort of imagination to picture Henson as the murderer stooping over his prey. The man had discarded his mask altogether. "Oh," he said, between his teeth, "you are a clever fellow. You would have made an excellent detective. And so you have found out where Van Sneck is?" "I have already told you so," Littimer said, doggedly. "How many days have you been hanging about Brighton?" "Two or three. I came when I heard that Chris was ill. I didn't dare to come near the house, at least not too near, for fear of being seen. But I pumped the doctor. Then he told me that Chris was dead, and I risked it all to see the last of her." "Yes, yes," Henson said, testily; "but what has this to do with Van Sneck?" "I was looking for Van Sneck. I found that he had been here. I discovered that he had left his rooms and had not returned to them. Then it occurred to me to try the hospital. I pretended that I was in search of some missing relative, and they showed me three cases of bad accidents, the victims of which had not been identified. And the third was Van Sneck." Littimer told his story with just the suggestion of triumph in his voice. Henson was watching him with the keenest possible interest. "Do you know how Van Sneck got there?" he asked. Littimer nodded. Evidently he had heard most of the story. Henson was silent for some little time. He was working out something in his mind. His smile was not a pleasant one; it was nothing like his bland platform smile, for instance. "Give me that black book," he said. "Do you know how to work the telephone?" "I daresay I could learn. It doesn't look hard."