“Was she alone?”

“She was.”

“What fare did she pay you?”

“The meter only registered eightpence, but she gave me half-a-crown.”

“Did she appear to be ill?”

“Very ill.  She wore no hat, and I supposed her to be in evening dress.  She almost fell as she got out of the cab, but managed to get into the hall of Palace Mansions quickly enough, looking behind her all the time.”

Inspector Dunbar shot out the hypnotic finger again.

“She told you to wait!” he asserted, positively.  Brian looked to right and left, up and down, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets, and taking them out again to stroke his collarless neck.  Then:—­

“She did—­yes,” he admitted.

“But you were bribed to drive away?  Don’t deny it!  Don’t dare to trifle with me, or by God! you’ll spend the night in Brixton Jail!”

“It was made worth my while,” muttered Brian, his voice beginning to break, “to hop it.”

“Who paid you to do it?”

“A man who had followed all the way in a big car.”

“That’s it!  Describe him!”

“I can’t!  No, no! you can threaten as much as you like, but I can’t describe him.  I never saw his face.  He stood behind me on the near side of the cab, and just reached forward and pushed a flyer under my nose.”

Inspector Dunbar searched the speaker’s face closely—­and concluded that he was respecting the verity.

“How was he dressed?”

“In black, and that’s all I can tell you about him.”

“You took the money?”

“I took the money, yes"...

“What did he say to you?”

“Simply:  ‘Drive off.’”

“Did you take him to be an Englishman from his speech?”

“No; he was not an Englishman.  He had a foreign accent.”

“French?  German?”

“No,” said Brian, looking up and meeting the glance of the fierce eyes.  “Asiatic!”

Inspector Dunbar, closely as he held himself in hand, started slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Certainly.  Before I—­when I was younger—­I traveled in the East, and I know the voice and intonation of the cultured Oriental.”

“Can you place him any closer than that?”

“No, I can’t venture to do so.”  Brian’s manner was becoming, momentarily, more nearly that of a gentleman.  “I might be leading you astray if I ventured a guess, but if you asked me to do so, I should say he was a Chinaman.”

“A Chinaman?” Dunbar’s voice rose excitedly.

“I think so.”

“What occurred next?”

“I turned my cab and drove off out of the Square.”

“Did you see where the man went?”

“I didn’t.  I saw nothing of him beyond his hand.”

“And his hand?”

“He wore a glove.”

“And now,” said Dunbar, speaking very slowly, “where did you pick up your fare?”