I fully expected to hear him give an exact description of the man who had followed us from Melbourne, but I was mistaken.
"I don't know, sir," said Thompson, "as I could rightly tell you, my mind being still a bit dizzy-like. He was tall, but not by any manner of means big made; he had very small 'ands 'an feet, a sort o' what they call death's-'ead complexion; 'is 'air was black as soot, an' so was 'is eyes, an' they sparkled like two diamonds."
"Do you remember noticing if he had a curious gold ring on his little finger, like a snake?"
"He had, sir, with two eyes made of some black stone. That's just as true as you're born."
"Then it was Nikola," I cried in an outburst of astonishment, "and he followed us to Australia after all!"
Wetherell gave a deep sigh that was more like a groan than anything; then he became suddenly a new man.
"Mr. Inspector," he cried to the police officer, "that man, or traces of him, must be found before daylight. I know him, and he is as slippery as an eel; if you lose a minute he'll be through your fingers."
"One moment first," I cried. "Tell me this, Thompson: when you drove up to the Canary Bird Hotel where did you say this man was standing?"
"In the verandah, sir."
"Had he his hat on?"