Cecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a witness. As to the occurrencesof the night before, he had very little to add to what he had alreadytold the police. Personally, he was convinced that the murderer hadescaped by the window. The bloodstain was conclusive, in his opinion,on that point. Besides, as the bridge was up, there was no otherpossible way of escaping. He could not explain what had become of theassassin or why he had not taken his bicycle, if it were indeed his. Hecould not possibly have been drowned in the moat, which was at no placemore than three feet deep.
In his own mind he had a very definite theory about the murder. Douglaswas a reticent man, and there were some chapters in his life of whichhe never spoke. He had emigrated to America when he was a very youngman. He had prospered well, and Barker had first met him in California,where they had become partners in a successful mining claim at a placecalled Benito Canyon. They had done very well; but Douglas had suddenlysold out and started for England. He was a widower at that time. Barkerhad afterwards realized his money and come to live in London. Thus theyhad renewed their friendship.
Douglas had given him the impression that some danger was hanging overhis head, and he had always looked upon his sudden departure fromCalifornia, and also his renting a house in so quiet a place inEngland, as being connected with this peril. He imagined that somesecret society, some implacable organization, was on Douglas's track,which would never rest until it killed him. Some remarks of his hadgiven him this idea; though he had never told him what the society was,nor how he had come to offend it. He could only suppose that the legendupon the placard had some reference to this secret society.
"How long were you with Douglas in California?" asked InspectorMacDonald.
"Five years altogether."
"He was a bachelor, you say?"
"A widower."
"Have you ever heard where his first wife came from?"
"No, I remember his saying that she was of German extraction, and Ihave seen her portrait. She was a very beautiful woman. She died oftyphoid the year before I met him."
"You don't associate his past with any particular part of America?"
"I have heard him talk of Chicago. He knew that city well and hadworked there. I have heard him talk of the coal and iron districts. Hehad travelled a good deal in his time."
"Was he a politician? Had this secret society to do with politics?"
"No, he cared nothing about politics."
"You have no reason to think it was criminal?"
"On the contrary, I never met a straighter man in my life."
"Was there anything curious about his life in California?"
"He liked best to stay and to work at our claim in the mountains. Hewould never go where other men were if he could help it. That's why Ifirst thought that someone was after him. Then when he left so suddenlyfor Europe I made sure that it was so. I believe that he had a warningof some sort. Within a week of his leaving half a dozen men wereinquiring for him."
"What sort of men?"
"Well, they were a mighty hard-looking crowd. They came up to the claimand wanted to know where he was. I told them that he was gone to Europeand that I did not know where to find him. They meant him no good--itwas easy to see that."
"Were these men Americans--Californians?"
"Well, I don't know about Californians. They were Americans, all right.But they were not miners. I don't know what they were, and was veryglad to see their backs."
"That was six years ago?"
"Nearer seven."
"And then you were together five years in California, so that thisbusiness dates back not less than eleven years at the least?"
"That is so."
"It must be a very serious feud that would be kept up with suchearnestness for as long as that. It would be no light thing that wouldgive rise to it."
"I t
hink it shadowed his whole life. It was never quite out of hismind."
"But if a man had a danger hanging over him, and knew what it was,don't you think he would turn to the police for protection?"
"Maybe it was some danger that he could not be protected against.There's one thing you should know. He always went about armed. Hisrevolver was never out of his pocket. But, by bad luck, he was in hisdressing gown and had left it in the bedroom last night. Once thebridge was up, I guess he thought he was safe."