"Because, sir, the gentleman was taller than Sir Karl. And, when I came to think of it, I distinctly saw that he had short hair, either lightish or grayish: Sir Karl's hair is a beautiful wavy brown, and he wears it rather long."
"Twilight is very deceptive," remarked Mr. Strange.
"No doubt of that, sir: but there was enough light coming in through the passage windows for me to see what I have said. I am quite positive it was not Sir Karl Andinnian."
"Would you swear it was not?"
"No, sir, I'd not swear it: swearing's a ticklish thing: but I am none the less sure. Mr. Strange, it was not Sir Karl for certain," she added impressively. "The gentleman was taller than Sir Karl and had a bigger kind of figure, broader shoulders like, and it rather struck me at the time that he limped in his walk. That I couldn't hold to, however."
"Just the description of what Salter would most likely be now," mused the detective, his doubts veering about uncomfortably. "He would have a limp, or something worse, after that escapade out of the railway carriage."
"Well, if you are so sure about it, Mrs. Chaffen, I suppose it could not have been Sir Karl."
"I can trust my sight, sir, and I am sure. What ever could have give rise to the thought that it was Sir Karl?" continued she, after a moment's pause.
"Why, you must know, Mrs. Chaffen, that Sir Karl Andinnian is the only man in Foxwood who is likely to put on evening dress as a rule. And being a neighbour of Mrs. Grey's and her landlord also, it was not so very improbable he should have called in, don't you see?"
Thus enlightened, Mrs. Chaffen no longer wondered how the surmise had arisen. She reiterated her assertion that it was not Sir Karl; and Mr. Strange, gliding into the important question of soda for cleaning boards, versus soap, presently took an affable leave.