“No,” said Meredith, “I don’t suppose Miss Summerhayes would see him. I must have met him some time after she saw me at the shop. But I begin to get hold of it all. It was a dark night, and the lamps were lighted. My friend must surely have left me——”
“I was about to say,” cried Gussy, “he could not have been with you there, or he must have come in with you, and told us how it was.”
“There was nobody with me, then?”
“Nobody, except the man who picked you up and the policeman, who is always coming back to say he’s on the track of the murderer.”
“The murderer! That gives one an uncomfortable conviction, as if one had really been killed. I have a kind of vision of a face. When does this policeman generally come? I should like to have a talk with him. He might throw some light upon my very dim recollection.”
“Dolff is the one who sees him when he comes,” said Mrs. Harwood. “I did not, myself, feel equal to it; and Dolff seemed the right person.”
“Ah, yes; and so kind of him,” said Meredith. “I have been surrounded with true kindness. Dolff, please come and tell me—what does the policeman say?”
“Not much,” said Dolff, from the dark corner in which he had established himself.
Meredith turned half round towards him.
“Is the fellow any good?”