Inspector Willis laid down the paper and turned to his visitor.
“You are interested in the case, sir?” he inquired.
“I knew him, I think,” Merriman stammered. “At least I know someone of the name. I—”
Willis glanced keenly at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis Coburn. Suspicious of everyone, the detective recognized that there might be more here than met the eye. He drew out his notebook.
“I am glad you called, sir,” he said pleasantly. “We shall be very pleased to get any information you can give us. What was your friend like?”
His quiet, conversational manner calmed the other.
“Rather tall,” he answered anxiously, “with a long pale face, and small, black, pointed mustache.”
“I’m afraid, sir, that’s the man. I think if you don’t mind you had better see if you can identify him.”
“I want to,” Merriman cried, leaping to his feet “I must know at once.”
Willis rose also.