"No, I did not. Had I known it was he, I would not have picked him up."
"Of course, you recognized him afterwards?"
"Yes, I did. And, as the paper stated, dropped him and walked away."
"Why did you leave him so abruptly?"
Brian looked at his questioner in some surprise.
"Because I detested him," he said, shortly.
"Why did you detest him?"
No answer.
"Was it because he had admired Miss Frettlby, and, from all appearances, was going to marry her?"
"Well, yes," sullenly.
"And now," said Calton, impressively, "this is the whole point upon which the case turns—Why did you get into the cab with him?"
"I did not get into the cab."
"The cabman declares that you did."
"He is wrong. I never came back after I recognized Whyte."
"Then who was the man who got into the cab with Whyte?"
"I don't know."
"You have no idea?"
"Not the least."
"You are certain?"
"Yes, perfectly certain."
"He seems to have been dressed exactly like you."
"Very probably. I could name at least a dozen of my acquaintances who wear light coats over their evening dress, and soft hats."
"Do you know if Whyte had any enemies?"
"No, I don't; I know nothing about him, beyond that he came from England a short time ago with a letter of introduction to Mr. Frettlby, and had the impertinence to ask Madge to marry him."
"Where did Whyte live?"
"Down in St. Kilda, at the end of Grey Street."
"How do you know?"
"It was in the papers, and—and—" hesitatingly, "I called on him."
"Why?"
