The other approached a step or two; both hands were gesticulating as though he found it difficult to find words. And the hands were quite wonderful, slim and strong and beautifully shaped. Their color was a bright saffron, the fingers were long and as supple as those of a magician; their tips were delicately pointed, the nails rounded and gleaming.
"This what you tell us," said he, "is a frightful thing! Murdered! And by whom?"
Ashton-Kirk shook his head.
"That," said he, "is yet to be learned."
"But the police? They are not here?"
"No."
One of the wonderful hands touched the smaller man upon the shoulder.
"Humadi," said the gentle voice, "murder has been done and the police are not here."
The eyes of the gray-haired Japanese sought those of his companion; and a look as rapid as lightning passed between them.