The man who appeared was mild, and correct, and very nervous. Not a wrinkle in his neat clothes was out of place, and there was no guile in him. He had a long, lean head, with thin black hair parted sharply in the middle and brushed behind each large, ear.
At the sight of the tableau he froze. Nobody spoke.
`You — you wished to speak to me, sir?' he said, in a curious voice, with a slight jump at the end of it
`Sit down,' said Dr Fell:
Another silence, while Marks's eyes took in the properties. He lowered himself gingerly into the chair.
`Sergeant Rampole,' said the doctor, 'take down this man's testimony…. Your name?'
'Theophilus Marks, sir.'
Rampole made two crosses and a' squiggle. Occupation?'
`I am employed by Sir William Bitton, of Berkeley Square, sir. I–I hope, sir,' said Marks, swallowing, `that this is not in connexion with — with that dreadful business, sir, of Mr Philip.
'Your last position?'