"Not at all," replied Thorndyke. "My suggestion is that the woman was Jeffrey Blackmore."
There was deathly silence for a few moments. We were all absolutely thunderstruck, and sat gaping at Thorndyke in speechless-astonishment. Then—Mr. Winwood fairly bounced out of his chair.
"But—my—good—sir!" he screeched. "Jeffrey Blackmore was with her at the time!"
"Naturally," replied Thorndyke, "my suggestion implies that the person who was with her was not Jeffrey Blackmore."
"But he was!" bawled Winwood. "The porter saw him!"
"The porter saw a person whom he believed to be Jeffrey Blackmore. I suggest that the porter's belief was erroneous."
"Well," snapped Winwood, "perhaps you can prove that it was. I don't see how you are going to; but perhaps you can."
He subsided once more into his chair and glared defiantly at Thorndyke.
"You seemed," said Stephen, "to suggest some connection between the sick man, Graves, and my uncle. I noted it at the time, but put it aside as impossible. Was I right. Did you mean to suggest any connection?"
"I suggest something more than a connection. I suggest identity. My position is that the sick man, Graves, was your uncle."
"From Dr. Jervis's description," said Stephen, "this man must have been very like my uncle.
