"I waited
upon you the night you dined there, sir--the night of Mr.
Hilditch's death."
"Well?"
"I have a revelation to make with regard to that night, sir," the
man went on, "which I should like to place in your hands. It is
a very serious matter, and there are reasons why something must
be done about it at once. Can I come and see you at your rooms,
sir?"
Francis studied the man for a moment intently. He was evidently
agitated--evidently, too, in very bad health. His furtive manner
was against him. On the other hand, that might have arisen from
nervousness.
"I shall be in at half-past three, number 13 b, Clarges Street,"
Francis told him.
"I can get off for half-an-hour then, sir," the man replied. "I
shall be very glad to come. I must apologise for having troubled
you, sir."
Francis went slowly back to his trio of guests. All the way down
the carpeted vestibule he was haunted by the grim shadow of a
spectral fear. The frozen horror of that ghastly evening was
before him like a hateful tableau. Hilditch's mocking words rang
in his cars: "My death is the one thing in the world which would
make my wife happy." The Court scene, with all its gloomy
tragedy, rose before his eyes--only in the dock, instead of
Hilditch, he saw another!
CHAPTER XXIX
There were incidents connected with that luncheon which Francis
always remembered.
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