"You hear that, Joseph?" he exclaimed, turning to his feathered pet, who had been chatting and screeching as we had been speaking. "This gentleman suspects your master, Joseph. What do you say?" "You're a fool for your pains! You're a fool for your pains!" declared the bird. "Poor Jo-sef! Poor Jo-sef wants to go to bed!" "Be quiet! You'll go to bed presently," answered the queer, grey visaged, sphinx-like man, who, turning again towards me, and looking me straight in the face, once more assured me that I was foolish in my misapprehension of the truth. "To me it really does not matter who killed Professor Greer, or who has usurped his place in the world of science," I said. "My only aim now is to recover my lost wife. Antonio, when I met him in Rome, was anxious that, in exchange for information concerning her, I should consent to keep a still tongue as to what had occurred in Sussex Place." "Rubbish, my dear sir!"--and Kirk laughed heartily. "What can Antonio possibly know? He's as ignorant and innocent of the whole affair as you are yourself." "How do you know that, pray?" "Well, am I not endeavouring to elucidate the mystery?" he asked. "And you know more than you will tell me?" I said. "Perhaps--just a little." "Yet you desire that I should still trust you implicitly, that I should give myself into your hands blindly and unreservedly--you, who lead this dual existence! In Whitehall Court you are a wealthy man of leisure, while here you pose as shabby and needy." "I may be shabby, Mr. Holford, for certain purposes--but needy never! I have, I'm thankful to say, quite sufficient for my wants," he exclaimed, correcting me. "And as for my dual existence, as you term it, have I ever endeavoured to conceal it from you?" "Tell me--once and for all--are you aware of my wife's whereabouts?" I demanded in frantic anxiety. "Can't you see that this suspense is turning my brain?" "Yes, it is very unfortunate--and still more unfortunate that I can afford you no satisfaction. The fact of Mrs. Holford's prolonged absence is as great a mystery to me as to yourself." "Scotland Yard will render me no help," I said in bitter chagrin. "Probably not--after the amazing story you told them," was his rather spiteful response. "What am I to do?" "Remain patient and watchful," he said. "Believe in me, and try and persuade yourself that, after all, I'm not an assassin," he smiled. I held my breath for a few seconds. Here was the crux of the whole matter. He was still cleverly and ingeniously endeavouring to lead me into a false sense of security--to make me believe that he was innocent of all knowledge of that most astounding tragedy in Sussex Place. Ah! his was indeed a clever ruse. But my eyes were now opened, so I only smiled within myself at the futility of his crafty and clever attempt further to mislead and cheat me.