"Rather queer news," he replied. "Let us go in and talk."
He followed me to my room, the door of which he locked.
"Give me a bite first," he said, "and a drink; and then you shall hear something startling."
I curbed my impatience while he ate and drank.
"That has done me good," he said; "I was almost famished. Before I commence, Godfrey, I want to ask whether you deceived me."
"In what way?"
"In this. You told me that a man of the name of Louis Fordham was murdered, and you described a certain mark by which his body could be identified."
"Yes."
"The mark was a scar on his forehead, caused by a wound inflicted upon him by a gardening tool. It penetrated to the bone, you said, and he would carry the scar to his grave. If I misunderstood you, let me know."
"You did not misunderstand me. The scar is as I described. I have evidence that it turned blood-red whenever he was excited. I have not misled you in the slightest particular."