“To give you both a clear idea I must go into details,” Wyndham drew his chair up closer and lowered his voice. “About twelve o’clock my private secretary brought me word that a man wished to see me personally. Of course, I have daily callers who all wish to see me personally, and usually my secretary takes care of them. This particular caller refused to give his name and said he would explain his business to me alone. I thought he was simply a harmless crank, and told my secretary to get rid of him as soon as possible.” Wyndham sighed. “In a few minutes my secretary was back in the office, saying that the stranger had a message for me from Senator Carew.”
“A written message?” asked the Secretary of State.
“No, a verbal one. With everyone else in Washington, I have taken great interest in the terrible murder of my old friend. The man’s statement aroused my interest, and, having a few minutes of leisure, I told my secretary to show him in.”
“What did he look like?” inquired the Secretary of State, deeply interested.
“A tall, dark chap; his hair and beard were black, and he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in human head.”
“Was he well dressed?”
“No, his clothes were shabby but fairly neat. He looked as if he had spruced up for the occasion. I can’t say I was prepossessed in his favor by his appearance.”
“Did he give you his name?”
“No.”
“Do you think he was an American?” put in Douglas.