Malone remained unresponsive.
“I don’t know that I can help him any more. Ah! there is one thing. He has a mole over his right eyebrow.”
Malone started as if he had been stung.
“One mole?” he cried.
The spectacles flashed round again.
“Two moles—one large, one small.”
“My God!” gasped Malone. “It’s Professor Summerlee!”
“Ah, you’ve got it. There’s a message: Greetings to old——’ It’s a long name and begins with a C. I can’t get it. Does it mean anything?”
“Yes.”
In an instant she had turned and was describing something or someone else. But she had left a badly-shaken man upon the platform behind her.