Loder made no movement.  “You must explain,” he said, very quietly.

Lillian smiled.  “That’s just what I want to do.  When I was in my tent on the night of Blanche’s party, a man came to be gazed for.  He came just like anybody else, and laid his hands upon the table.  He had strong, thin hands like—­well, rather like yours But he wore two rings on the third finger of his left hand—­a heavy signet-ring and a plain gold one.”

Loder moved his hand imperceptibly till the cushion covered it.  Lillian’s words caused him no surprise, scarcely even any trepidation.  He felt now that he had expected them, even waited for them, all along.

“I asked him to, take off his rings,” she went on, “and just for a second he hesitated—­I could feel him hesitate; then he seemed to make up his mind, for he drew them off.  He drew them off, Jack, and guess what I saw!  Do guess!”

For the first time Loder involuntarily drew back into his corner of the couch.  “I never guess,” he said, brusquely.

“Then I’ll tell you.  His hands were the hands of my Englishman!  The rings covered the scar made by Ko Ko’s teeth.  I knew it instantly—­the second my eyes rested on it.  It was the same scar that I had bound up dozens of times—­that I had seen healed before I left Santasalare.”

“And you?  What did you do?” Loder felt it singularly difficult and unpleasant to speak.

“Ah, that’s the point.  That’s where I was stupid and made my mistake.  I should have spoken to him on the moment, but I didn’t.  You know how one sometimes hesitates.  Afterwards it was too late.”

“But you saw him afterwards—­in the rooms?” Loder spoke unwillingly.

“No, I didn’t—­that’s the other point.  I didn’t see him in the rooms, and I haven’t seen him since.  Directly he was gone, I left the tent—­I pretended to be hungry and bored; but, though I went through every room, he was nowhere to be found.  Once—­” she hesitated and laughed again—­” once I thought I had found him, but it was only you—­you, as you stood in that door-way with your mouth and chin hidden by Leonard Kaine’s head.  Wasn’t it a quaint mistake?”

There was an uncertain pause.  Then Loder, feeling the need of speech, broke the silence suddenly.  “Where do I come in?” he asked abruptly.  “What am I wanted for?”

“To help to throw light on the mystery!  I’ve seen Blanche’s list of people, and there wasn’t a man I couldn’t place—­no outsider ever squeezes through Blanche’s door.  I have questioned Bobby Blessington, but he can’t remember who came to the tent last.  And Bobby was supposed to have kept count!” She spoke in deep scorn; but almost immediately the scorn faded and she smiled again.  “Now that I’ve explain ed, Jack,” she added, “what do you suggest?”

Then for the first time Loder knew what his presence in the room really meant; and at best the knowledge was disconcerting.  It is not every day that a man is called upon to unearth himself.