remarked. "I guess you remember the bee he had in his bonnet that night."
"Mistook me for some one, didn't he?" Philip murmured.
She nodded.
"Kind of queer you don't read our newspapers! It was a guy named Romilly—Douglas Romilly—who disappeared from the Waldorf Hotel. Strange thing about it," she went on, "is that I saw photographs of him in the newspapers, and I can't recognise even a likeness."
"This Mr. Felix Martin doesn't agree with you, apparently," Philip observed.
"He don't go by the photographs," Martha Grimes explained. "He believes that he crossed from Liverpool with this Mr. Douglas Romilly, and that you," she continued, crossing her legs and smoothing down her skirt to hide her shabby shoes, "are so much like him that he came down last night to see if there was anything else he could find out from me before he paid a visit to police headquarters."
There was a moment's silence. Philip was apparently groping for a match, and the girl was keeping her head studiously turned away from him.
"What business is it of his?"
"There was a reward offered. Don't know as that would make much difference to Felix Martin, though. According to Stella's account, he is pretty well a millionaire already."
"It would be more useful to you, wouldn't it?" Philip remarked.
