‘To do so adequately would be beyond my powers. But I will do my best.’
If the original was more remarkable than the description which he gave of him, then he must have been remarkable indeed. The impression conveyed to my mind was rather of a monster than a human being. I watched Sydney attentively as he followed Mr Holt’s somewhat lurid language, and there was something in his demeanour which made me more and more persuaded that he was more behind the scenes in this strange business than he pretended, or than the speaker suspected. He put a question which seemed uncalled for by anything which Mr Holt had said.
‘You are sure this thing of beauty was a man?’
‘No, sir, that is exactly what I am not sure.’
There was a note in Sydney’s voice which suggested that he had received precisely the answer which he had expected.
‘Did you think it was a woman?’
‘I did think so, more than once. Though I can hardly explain what made me think so. There was certainly nothing womanly about the face.’ He paused, as if to reflect. Then added, ‘I suppose it was a question of instinct.’
‘I see.—Just so.—It occurs to me, Mr Holt, that you are rather strong on questions of instinct.’ Sydney got off the bed. He stretched himself, as if fatigued,—which is a way he has. ‘I will not do you the injustice to hint that I do not believe a word of your charming, and simple, narrative. On the contrary, I will demonstrate my perfect credence by remarking that I have not the slightest doubt that you will be able to point out to me, for my particular satisfaction, the delightful residence on which the whole is founded.’
Mr Holt coloured,—Sydney’s tone could scarcely have been more significant.
‘You must remember, sir, that it was a dark night, that I had never been in that neighbourhood before, and that I was not in a condition to pay much attention to locality.’