The Crystal Claw by William Le Queux

One cold evening I returned from the office after a heavy day which had been devoted to the successful settlement of a very complicated and serious action for libel against a provincial newspaper which we represented.

As I entered my room, Mrs. Chapman, in her spotless black dress -- just as she always wore when my father was alive -- followed me in, saying --

"Oh! Mr. Rex. A gentleman called about three o'clock. He wouldn't leave a card. He gave his name as Audley -- Mr. Stanley Audley. He repeated it three times, and told me to be sure to recollect the name. He said he was extremely sorry you were not at home, but you were not to worry about him in the least."

I started, staring blankly at her.

"Wouldn't leave a card? Wouldn't he call again?"

"He seemed to be in a very great hurry, sir. He said he had come from abroad to see you, but couldn't wait and said he was very sorry. Only I was to give you his urgent message."

"What was he like?"

"Well, sir, he was a round, rather red-faced gentleman. He was evidently greatly disappointed at not meeting you, but he impressed upon me the message that he was all right, and that you were not to worry about him."

This was indeed a surprise.

It was evident that my caller was the man who had lived on the first floor in Half Moon Street, and was the friend of the Stanley Audley who had married Thelma!

What did that amazing visit portend? It worried me. Why should a reassuring message be given to me by a man who was not the person in whom I was interested, and whom I had never met? The whole affair was becoming more and more obscure and mysterious. As a solicitor I had been brought into contact with more than one queer affair, but the Audley mystery was beyond anything in my experience.

"Couldn't he call again, Mrs. Chapman? " I asked.

"No, sir. He said he had come to see you just for a moment, and that he was sorry that he couldn't wait. He had a taxi outside."

"Thanks, Mrs. Chapman. I'm sorry I was not at home to see him. Did you give him my office address?"

"I did, sir. But he said he had no time to go round to Bedford Row, and that you would no doubt understand."

Understand! What could I understand? I was more bewildered than ever.

Next day I called again upon Belton, in Half Moon Street, and questioned him more closely about his recent "Box and Cox" tenants. But he could tell me nothing more than he had already. Mr. Graydon and Mr. Audley were close friends. That was all.

"Tell me something about their visitors," I asked. "Did Mr. Graydon, the gentleman who lived above, have many?"

"No, sir. Very few. Several of them I knew quite well when I was in service -- gentlemen from the clubs. One a Canadian millionaire, came often, but Mr. Graydon never had any lady visitors except that young lady we spoke about a short time ago -- the lady whose photograph you showed me, Miss Shaylor."

"And Mr. Audley, who lived below?"