“Why do you say that?”
“Because, Mr. Brixan”—she spoke slowly—“at nine o’clock I saw the hand of the man who murdered him!
“Two nights ago,” she went on, “I went out to buy some wool I wanted. It was just before the shops closed—a quarter to eight, I think. In the town I saw Mr. Foss and spoke to him. He was very nervous and restless, and again made a suggestion to me which he had already made when he called on me. His manner was so strange that I asked him if he was in any trouble. He told me no, but he had had an awful premonition that something dreadful was going to happen, and he asked me if I’d lived in Chichester for any length of time, and if I knew about the caves.”
“The caves?” said Michael quickly.
She nodded.
“I was surprised. I’d never heard of the caves. He told me there was a reference to them in some old history of Chichester. He had looked in the guide-books without finding anything about them, but apparently there were caves at some time or other near Chellerton, but there was a heavy subsidence of earth that closed the entrance. He was so rambling and so disjointed that I thought he must have been drinking, and I was glad to get away from him. I went on and did my shopping and met one of the extra girls I knew. She asked me to go home with her. I didn’t want to go a bit, but I thought if I refused she would think I was giving myself airs, and so I went. As soon as I could, I came away and went straight home.
“It was then nine o’clock and the streets were empty. They are not very well lit in Chichester, but I was able to recognize Mr. Foss. He was standing at the corner of the Arundel Road, and was evidently waiting for somebody. I stopped because I particularly did not wish to meet Mr. Foss, but I was on the point of turning round when a car drove into the road and stopped almost opposite him.”
“What sort of a car?” asked Michael.
“It was a closed landaulette—I think they call them sedans. As it came round the corner its lights went out, which struck me as being curious. Mr. Foss was evidently waiting for this, for he went up and leant on the edge of the window and spoke to somebody inside. I don’t know what made me do it, but I had an extraordinary impulse to see who was in the car, and I started walking toward them. I must have been five or six yards away when Mr. Foss stepped back and the sedan moved on. The driver put his hand out of the window as if he was waving good-bye. It was still out of the window and the only thing visible—the interior was quite dark—when it came abreast of me.”
“Was there anything peculiar about the hand?”