"Certainly," I said, full of curiosity, for I could not see Kirk's motive in asking my assistance, and my natural caution now asserted itself. "By the way," he echoed suddenly, "do you know any other language besides English?" "I know French fairly well," I replied, "and a smattering of Italian." "Nothing else? German, for instance?" I replied in the negative. He rose, and relit his pipe with a spill. Then he chatted for some minutes with Joseph, all the time, it seemed, reflecting upon what he should say to me. At last, reseating himself in his old-fashioned chair, he again looked me straight in the face and said: "You have given me your promise of silence, Mr. Holford. I accept it from one whom I have watched closely for a long time, and whom I know to be a gentleman. Now I am going to tell you something which will probably alarm you. A crime, a very serious crime, has been committed in London during the past forty-eight hours, and I, Kershaw Kirk, am implicated in it--or, rather, suspected of it!" I sat staring at the man before me, too surprised to reply. He had always been an enigma, and the mystery about him was increasing. "Tell me more," I urged at last, looking into the face of the suspected criminal. "Who is the victim?" "At present I am keeping the affair a strict secret," he said. "There are reasons, very potent reasons, why the public should not know of the tragedy. Nowadays publicity is the curse of life. At last the Home Office have recognised this. I told you that I am a holder of secrets. Well, besides myself, not more than three persons are aware of the astounding affair." "And you are suspected as the assassin?" I remarked. "Unfortunately, I shall be," was his reply, and I saw that his countenance fell; "I foresee it. That is why I require your aid--the aid of a man who is honest, and who is a gentleman as well." And he broke off again to chatter to Joseph, who was keeping up a continual screeching. "I am anxious to hear details of the affair," I said eagerly. "I wish I could tell you the details," he answered, with a bitter smile; "but I am not aware of them myself. The affair is a mystery--one of which even the police must be kept in ignorance." "Haven't the police been informed?" "No," was his prompt reply. "In certain cases information to the police means publicity. In this case, as I've already told you, there must be no publicity. Therefore, though a crime has been committed, it is being kept from the police, who, not knowing the facts, must only bungle the inquiries, and whose limited scope of inquiry would only result in failure." "You interest me, Mr. Kirk. Relate the known facts to me," I said. "Why, pray, will you be suspected of being a murderer?" "Well," he said, with a long-drawn sigh, "because--well, because I had everything to gain by the death of the murdered person. He had filched from me a very valuable secret." "Then the murdered person was not your friend?"