Devlin rose, and joined me at the window.
"Is your sight very keen?" he asked.
"Keen enough to recognise friends," I said.
"Mine is wonderful," said Devlin, "quite catlike; another of my abnormal qualities. I can plainly distinguish the features of the two men upon whom we are gazing. One is young. Who is he?"
"His name," I replied, believing that entire frankness would be more likely to win Devlin to my side, "is George Carton."
"I recognise him; he was in your house yesterday morning. He seems distressed. There is a troubled look in his face."
"He was the murdered girl's lover."
"Ah! And the other, the elder man, casting anxious glances upon the younger--who may he be?"
"His name is Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. He is young Carton's guardian."
"Thank you," said Devlin, returning to his seat at the table. I dropped the blind, and resumed my seat opposite to him, and then I observed a singular smile upon his face, to which I could attach no meaning.