Philip Ray was dark. "Did you notice anything remarkable about him?"
"Well, as I said, he is very dark, and he has no colour in his cheek."
"H'm!" said Crawford in a dissatisfied tone. Ray had no colour in his cheek. "Did you remark anything peculiar in his walk?" No one could fail to observe the way in which Ray swung his hands.
"No, I did not."
Crawford drew up in front of the woman, and stood gnawing his knuckle for a few seconds. Then he resumed his pacing up and down.
"Was the gentleman walking fast at the time?"
"No."
Philip Ray, when alone, always went at an unusually rapid pace. He was a man quick in everything: quick in speech, in the movements of his limbs, quickest of all and most enduring also in his love and--anger.
"Is he a tall man?"
"No."