Forrest finished his drink and stood up. "Now you know as much about the case as I do," he remarked, "and I fancy it is about time for us to pay our proposed visit to our friend Mannering."
"I don't see how you can connect him in any way with Hoffman," I said, as I rose from my seat.
Forrest smiled. "I omitted to tell you one thing," he observed. "I could not see the hair of the man in Vienna whose face seemed familiar to me. But one thing I did remark. The man with Mannering's face wore a fair moustache."
"But Mannering's is dark," I argued. "It was dark when he went away and dark when he returned."
Forrest held up his hand mockingly. "In these days of scientific progress nothing is easier than for the intelligent leopard to change his spots. Ask the brunette when fashion decrees that fair hair is to be worn, and ask again of the blonde how she manages when the exigencies demand raven tresses."
That settled me. "There's only one thing more," I said. "When did you hear that the Motor Pirate was at work again?"
"At St. Albans. I called at the police office on my way here. He was seen about ten o'clock this side of Peterborough and going north."
"It will be rather a sell if Mannering is at home," I remarked.
"He will not be at home," replied Forrest with conviction.