“On the floor of the room, while I was searching about.”
The man grunted dubiously.
I was well aware of the suspicion which must fall upon me, for I knew there was blood upon my clothes, and that my story possessed a distinct air of improbability.
“Who injured your head like that?” he asked.
In response, I told him how, in crossing a road, I had been knocked down and rendered insensible by a cab, and how, on regaining consciousness, I had found myself under the care of some woman unknown.
He gave vent to a short harsh laugh, as though discrediting my statements.
“You don’t believe me,” I blurted forth hastily. “Take me to your inspector. We must lose no time.”
“Well, you know,” observed the man, “your story, you’ll admit, is a very extraordinary one. You say that a terrible affair has happened in a house somewhere about here, yet you can’t direct us to it. The whole story is so curious that I’m afraid you’ll have a difficulty in persuading anybody to believe you.”
“If you don’t, somebody else will,” I snapped. “Come, take me to the police-station.”
Thus ordered, the man rather reluctantly took my arm, and crossing the wide main road, we traversed a number of short crooked thoroughfares.