“The East-European Jews are not a very pure breed,” said Thorndyke. “You will see many a face of that type in Whitechapel High-street and the Jewish quarters hard by.”
At this point, deserting the work-table, I came and looked over Marion’s shoulder at the mask which she was holding at arm’s length. And then I got a surprise of the most singular kind, for I recognized the face at a glance.
“What is it, Gray?” asked Thorndyke, who had apparently observed my astonishment.
“This is the most extraordinary coincidence!” I exclaimed. “Do you remember my speaking to you about a certain Mr. Morris?”
“The dealer in antiques?” he queried.
“Yes. Well, this is his face.”
He regarded me for some moments with a strangely intent expression. Then he asked: “When you say that this is Morris’ face, do you mean that it resembles his face, or that you identify it positively?”
“I identify it positively. I can swear to the identity. It isn’t a face that one would forget. And if any doubt were possible, there is this hare-lip scar, which you can see quite plainly on the cast.”
“Yes, I noticed that. And Morris has a hare-lip scar, hasn’t he?”
“Yes; and in the same position and of the same character. I think you can take it as a fact that this cast was undoubtedly taken from Morris’ face.”