"Could you see his face?" asked Drillford. "Was he clean-shaved, or bearded, or what?"
"I tell you he was muffled to the very eyes," answered Hyde. "One of those big silk handkerchiefs, you know—he had it drawn up over his chin and nose—right up."
"Then you'd have difficulty in knowing him again," observed Drillford. "There are a few thousand men in the West End of London who'd answer the description you've given."
"All right!" muttered Hyde doggedly. "But—I know what I saw. And if you want to help me, Viner, find that man—because he must have come straight away from the body!"
Drillford turned to Viner, glancing at the same time at the clock.
"Do you want to ask him any more questions?" he inquired. "No? Well, there's just one I want to ask. What were you doing with that knife in your possession?" he went on, turning to Hyde. "Be careful, now; you heard what the doctor said about it, in court?"
"I've nothing to conceal," replied Hyde. "You heard me say just now that
I'd had engagements in the States. I bought that knife when I was out
West—more as a curiosity than anything—and I've carried it in my pocket
ever since."
Drillford looked again at Viner.
"He'll have to go, now," he said. "If you're going to employ legal help for him, the solicitor will know where and when he can see him." He paused on his way to the door and looked a little doubtfully at his prisoner. "I'll give you a bit of advice," he said, "not as an official, but as an individual. If you want to clear yourself, you'd better give all the information you can."
"I'll send my own solicitor to you, Hyde, at once," said Viner. "Be absolutely frank with him about everything."