"He is a very dark man," continued Harley, "with black eyes. He is a Hindu."
The girl stared straight before her, dumbly.
"Answer me!" shouted Harley.
"Yes—yes! He is a foreigner."
"A Hindu?"
"I think so."
"He was here five minutes ago.'"
"Yes."
"Where was he going to take you?"
"I don't know. He said he could put me in a good job out of London. We had only ten minutes to catch the train. He's gone to get the tickets."
"Where did you meet him?"
"In the Green Park."
"When?"
"About a month ago."
"Was he going to marry you?"
"Yes."
"What did you do to the serviettes on the night Sir Charles died?"
"Oh, my God! I didn't do anything to hurt him—I didn't do anything to hurt him!"
"Answer me."
"Sidney"
"Oh, he called himself Sidney, did he? It isn't his name. But go on."
"He asked me to get one of the serviettes, with the ring, and to lend it to him."
