'About twenty-seven—I don't know precisely.'
'H'm. Well of course this man looks much older than that—but the question is what's he been through? Was Lieutenant Sarratt fair or dark?'
'Rather dark. He had brown hair.'
'Eyes?'
'I can't remember precisely,' said Bridget, after a moment. 'I don't notice the colour of people's eyes. But I'm sure they were some kind of brown.'
'This man's are a greenish grey. Can you recollect anything peculiar about Lieutenant Sarratt's hands?'
Again Bridget paused for a second or two, and then said—'I can't remember anything at all peculiar about them.'
The surgeon looked at her closely, and was struck with the wooden irresponsiveness of the face, which was however rather handsome, he thought, than otherwise. No doubt, she was anxious to speak deliberately, when so much might depend on her evidence and her opinion. But he had never seen any countenance more difficult to read.
'Perhaps you're not a close observer of such things?'
'No, I don't think I am.'