"Yees. My dead master he English—Sir Digby Kemsley!"
"Sir Digby!" I cried. "And you were his servant. You knew this man Cane—why, you were the man who heard your master curse the man who placed the deadly reptile against his face. You made a statement to the police, did you not?" I asked frantically.
"Yees, Mee-ster Royle—I did! I know a lot," he replied in his slow way, stalking along in the short breeches, red velvet jacket, and fez of an Oriental.
"You will tell me, Senos?" I said. "You will tell me everything?" I urged. "Tell me all that you know!"
He grinned in triumph, saying:
"I know a lot—I know all. Cane killed my master—killed him with the snake—he and Luis together. I know—I saw. But the Englishman is always great, and his word believed by the commissary of police—not the word of Senos. Oh, no! but I have followed; I have watched. I have been beside Cane night and day when he never dream I was near. I tell the young lady all the truth, and—ah!—she tell him after I beg her to be silent."
"But where is Cane now?" I asked eagerly. "Do you know?"
"The 'Red' Englishman—he with Madame Petre and Luis—he call himself Ali, the Indian."
"Where? Can you take me to them?" I asked. "You know there is a warrant out for their arrest?"
"I know—but——"