"I was utterly taken aback by your news. I wanted time to think. I
never meant to hide any material fact at this interview."

"You have contrived to delay and hamper our inquiry for twelve hours--
twenty-four in reality. I can't make you out, Mr. Theydon. You would
never have said a word about your very accurate acquaintance with this
mysterious stranger's appearance had not last night's rainstorm left
its legible record on your clothes. Do you now vouch for it that the
man was completely unknown to you?"

"You are pleased to be severe, Mr. Furneaux, but, having placed myself
in a false position, I must accept your strictures. I assure you, on
my honor, that the man I saw was an absolute stranger."

Happily, Theydon was under no compulsion to choose his words. He met
the detective's searching gaze unflinchingly. Fate, after terrifying
him, had been kind. If Furneaux had expressed himself differently--
if, for instance, he had said: "Had you ever before seen the man?" or
"Have you now any reason for believing that you know his name?"-- he
would have forced Theydon's hand in a way he was far from suspecting.

"It may surprise you to hear," piped the shrill, cracked voice, "that
there are dozens of policemen walking about London who would arrest
you on suspicion had you treated them as you have treated us."

"Then I can only say that I am fortunate in my inquisitors," smiled
Theydon.

Winter held up a massive fist in deprecation of these acerbities.