The manner in which he spoke was so winning that all Herriard’s soreness left him. But he judged it wise to discuss the case no further that evening. When, after a few words more, he turned to go, Gastineau called him back.
“By the way, Geof, for we must not let my scepticism burke this evidence altogether, what sort of a man was this that Campion saw? He described him?”
“A dark, thin man.”
“H’m! A trifle vague. Anything more?”
“Bowyers have the full description. Naturally—always supposing his evidence to be genuine—he would have noticed him particularly.”
“No doubt,” Gastineau agreed, with a recurring touch of scepticism. “He is sure he would recognize the man again?”
“Oh, absolutely confident. I heard him say so.”
“Well, it is a comparatively narrow circle,” Gastineau remarked, still with the incredulous smile. “The man must, in all probability, have been either a guest or a waiter.”
“Campion says he looked like a gentleman.”
“Ah! Then Bowyer had better get a list of the guests and set about identifying him. Good-night.”