"He won't tell me anything; I have asked him before."
"You have no idea why a cross similar to this should have been tattooed on Sir Gregory's arm by a negro?"
"Certainly not. I did not even know Sir Gregory."
"I wonder if your father could tell me?"
"I don't know. He might or he might not. Do you think that this cross has anything to do with the murder you are investigating?"
"That is just what I do think," retorted Fanks. "The man was killed by means of a poisoned needle used to prick in a cross similar to that on your arm."
"But that insinuates that I am mixed up in the matter."
"It does nothing of the sort. Don't be an ass."
But Hersham was not content with this friendly assurance. "You think that I have something to do with the crime," he said obstinately.
Fanks looked at his agitated face, at his trembling hands, and a strange suspicion entered his mind. "I'll tell you what I do think," he said in an abrupt tone; "I think that you have not told me all the truth."