"The stranger made very careful inquiries as to the appearance of the man who died, and I gave an entirely wrong description of him. I said that he had white hair and a long white beard, and that he walked rather lame, with the help of a stick. In fact I showed him a stick in the hall which I said belonged to the dead man. He was also very inquisitive regarding the man's son who I said had taken away all his belongings. I described him as having a short reddish beard, but a man of rather gentlemanly bearing. The fellow Gordon-Wright struck me as an awful bounder, and that's why I filled him up with lies. Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours?" "Friend!" I echoed. "No, the reverse. I wonder what he wanted to discover. You didn't mention me, I suppose?" "No. Why should I?" "I'm glad of that, for there's evidently some fresh conspiracy in progress." "Probably there is. He's a shrewd fellow without a doubt." "An outsider, my dear Sammy," I declared. "That fellow's a thief--a friend of Miller's." "Of Miller's!" he cried, in his turn surprised. "Is he really one of the gang?" "Certainly he is. Moreover, I happened to be present when he robbed an American in a hotel at Nervi, near Genoa, and if I said a word to the police he'd `do time,' depend upon it." "Then why don't you?" "Because just at the present time it doesn't suit my purpose," was my reply. "I want first to find out the reason of his visit here." "Wants to establish the death of the fugitive, I suppose. He certainly, however, got nothing out of me. You know me too well, and can trust me not to give away anything that's a secret." "Was he alone?" "Yes. He came here alone, but Miss Gilbert says that a lady was waiting for him in a hansom a few doors along the road--a young lady, she thinks." Was it my Ella, I wondered? If so, she might be in London staying with her aunt, as she so frequently did in the old days. "How long ago did all this occur?" I asked. "On Saturday--that would be four days ago. He came about five in the afternoon. When Miss Gilbert referred him to me he apparently resented it, believing that he could induce her to tell him all he wanted." "But even she doesn't know that it was the notorious Nardini who died up stairs." "No, but I don't fancy she's such a ready liar as I am, old chap," laughed Sammy. "He started the haw-haw attitude, and with me that don't pay--as you know. I did the haw-haw likewise, and led him to believe that I was most delighted to be of any assistance to him in helping him to trace his friend." "His friend! Did he say that Nardini was his friend?"