“Who was that man?”
“We don’t know.”
“He was left in the house after Mr. Ellison went out. Was he not seen?”
“No, he escaped from the house by a back window into the back yard, and so into the cross street.”
“What sort of a man was he?”
“A man with a pointed, glossy black beard, black eyes, heavy black eyebrows and long black hair, curling a little at the ends.”
The young woman was thoughtful for a moment or two, sitting with her finger to her lips, which she bit nervously, while her brows were knitted.
Chick broke in on her thoughts.
“Was this man connected with the robbery or the attempt to rob?”
“I don’t think so,” said the young woman; “that was another part of it.”