Did Penn know the truth? It seemed impossible that he should know it. The evidence of the typewriting girl went to show that he had not left his private room all the evening until summoned by Durwin when the death was discovered. What Penn said about the perfume appeared to be reasonable enough, as he certainly had handled the body, and if reeking of the scent--as he was reeking on this very day--it was not surprising that the odor should communicate itself to the dress clothes of the dead man. Some odors cling very powerfully, and endure for a considerable time. This Sumatra scent assuredly had done so, for it was quite three hours after the death that Dan himself had seen the corpse, and even then he had smelt the perfume. However, on the face of it, Halliday saw no reason to doubt Penn's statement, and quite understood how he became, through Sir John's mediation, the secretary of Lord Curberry. Only the last speech of the secretary was strange. Why should he say that, if the truth were discovered by Dan, Curberry would marry the girl, when, on the discovery of the truth--so far as Dan could see--the marriage of himself to Lillian depended? Dan could find no answer to this question, and had half a mind to follow Penn to his new employer's house, so as to force an explanation. But as he knew Curberry did not like him, he decided to let matters stand as they were, and only reveal what he had heard to Laurance.
For the next four or five days, young Halliday went about his business in a quiet, determined manner, and thought as little as possible of Lillian. He did not even write or call to see her, since he wished to give up his whole attention to discovering the truth about Moon's death. If he thought of love and Lillian, he certainly could not concentrate his mind on the necessary search. And it was very necessary, if he intended to marry the girl. He became certain that in some way Sir John intended to trick him, but if he found out the false Mrs. Brown, and solved the mystery, Sir John would be forced out of sheer justice to sanction the marriage. It was heroical of Halliday to turn his thoughts from his beloved and it was no easy task to one so deeply in love as he. But he saw the need of it, and manfully set himself to endure present pain for future joy. Whether Lillian saw things in the same light, or resented his neglect, he did not know, as he had no word from her, neither came there any letter from Mrs. Bolstreath. Dan had, certainly been pushed out of the girl's life by her astute uncle; but it was his own common sense that kept him out of it--for the time being--be it understood. Love demands its martyrs, and Halliday had become one for Love's sake. By doing so, although he knew it not, he was displaying more real love towards her than he had ever done in his life before.