A man was with my wife, passing himself off as myself--Henry Holford, motor engineer. And yet I could look to no one for counsel, advice, or aid! Now that the police had refused to inquire into the death of poor Greer, the attitude of my weird, grey-faced neighbour had become more defiant. He was full of bitter reproaches, yet at the same time entirely heedless of my future actions. Once or twice while speaking to me he turned, as was his habit, to Joseph the parrot, addressing asides to his pet, causing the bird to screech noisily, grow excited, and make idiotic responses. "Mark me, Mr. Holford," he said at length, "you did a most foolish thing to betray me to Scotland Yard. In you I'm most disappointed, I assure you. My confidence was misplaced." "I understand you've been to my garage and in my absence purchased an Eckhardt tyre," I remarked. "Well?" he said, opening his eyes slightly. "I only came down to see you, but when I found you absent I bought a tyre as an excuse." "And you expect me to believe that, eh?" I asked, with a dry laugh. "You can believe it or not believe it, just as you think fit," was his quick reply. "I have no use for motor-tyres, not possessing a car." I grinned in disbelief, recollecting the air of secrecy with which he had examined the tyre on the first occasion he had called upon me, and also the effect produced upon him later when I told him of the two other men who had called to inspect the tyre. I think I remained with him for nearly an hour. Then, after he had told me that his intention was to stay in England, at least for the present, I left him and walked back to my desolate home, where, Gwen having retired, I sat for a further hour in my den, deeply thinking. That Kirk was in some secret way in association with the bogus Professor was plain. Was it not, then, more than likely that they would ere long meet again? If I kept a wary eye upon him, I might, I saw, discover something of great interest. Who could this man be who led a dual existence for no apparent cause; this man who was narrow-minded and penurious in Bedford Park, yet was wealthy and open-handed in Whitehall Court? As I calmly reviewed the whole extraordinary situation I saw that, in turn, I mistrusted the whole of the actors in that bewildering drama. Ethelwynn, the calm, sweet, clear-eyed girl, so content in her great love for Leonard Langton, though she had actually witnessed her father lying dead and cold, yet now refused to presume his death! Why? Doctor Flynn I disliked instinctively; Langton was evidently playing a double game, having denied all knowledge of Kirk, whereas the latter was his friend; Antonio and Pietro were away; while Kirk himself, silent and cunning, was pretending a complete ignorance which was only ill-feigned. And the most important point of all was that not a breath of suspicion of the Professor's death had yet leaked out to the public. Thus, utterly bewildered, I again retired to rest.