"You have a singular method of address, Mr. Southam. Before I answer this question perhaps you will answer mine. Has Mr. Rothwell been to see you?"
"What does he look like?"
"Look like!" Again the curious smile. "You continue to answer question with question. Tell me, sir, has any one calling himself Duncan Rothwell been to see you? We will discuss the question of what he looked like afterwards."
I paused before I spoke again, then keenly noted the effect of my words.
"For all I know, Mr. Duncan Rothwell lies murdered at Mrs. Barnes's hotel."
Mr. Cleaver sprang to his feet. "Murdered!"
"Precisely! Some one lies there murdered. If you will tell me what he looks like I will tell you if it is Mr. Duncan Rothwell."
Not unnaturally, Mr. Cleaver appeared bewildered.
"Explain yourself a little more clearly, Mr. Southam; and, to begin with, will you be so good as to answer Yes or No to my question. Has any one calling himself Duncan Rothwell been to see you?"
I told him what had happened--so far as I understood it. His amazement unmistakably was genuine.