“Yes, Inspector.” Henry looked at the Scotland Yard man, deeply impressed that at last he was meeting one of the great men of whose work he had so often read in the papers. He peered over his pince-nez and positively purred with satisfaction. This, indeed, was something to tell Sarah about!

“I want you,” the Inspector went on, “to tell me precisely what happened, to explain how the man came to die, what attracted your attention, and why you walked over to him just at the moment of his death.”

Henry shuddered. “To tell you the truth, Inspector,” he said, “I hardly know.”

“But you must have some sort of idea, surely.”

“A vague idea, anyhow,” contributed Sergeant Cunningham, who had accompanied his chief on this errand of investigation, but who had hitherto remained silent.

Henry giggled. It is regrettable to admit the fact, but he was the type of man who would giggle on occasion.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said. “I am one of those strange people—the students of humanity. The dead man attracted my attention because he was, if I may say so, of such a striking and unusual appearance. I found myself watching him almost unconsciously, in the way that one sometimes does watch a stranger who strikes one, if you understand me.”

“I understand you, Mr. Fairhurst,” said Shelley in sympathetic tones, “but I still want answers to a few other questions, you know.”

“Fire away, Inspector,” Henry answered, and then, conscious that this piece of slang was somewhat undignified for a man of his position in the social world of Streatham, he added: “Or, if I might borrow a word from the gangster films, I would say, ‘Shoot!’”

“First of all,” remarked Shelley briskly, “did you see anyone else approach the man in the last few minutes before he died?”

Henry reflected. “I have a sort of vague notion that someone was walking away from the man as I approached,” he admitted. “It’s only the vaguest of impressions, though, and I couldn’t possibly swear to it for a moment.”

“Was it a man or a woman?” asked Cunningham, with a glance of apology at his chief. “Will your memory give you any information on that point, Mr. Fairhurst?”

Again Henry reflected deeply for a moment before replying.

“It’s difficult,” he murmured. “You see, I may be getting some quite innocent person into trouble if I…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Shelley interrupted. “If any innocent person is involved in this case we shall clear him without the slightest difficulty. Don’t worry about that for a moment, Mr. Fairhurst.”