White, my landlady, believes his story. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. ‘Who’d believe me? And I’d have to tell my part in it all, too. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. Only you seem to me since the time when I knew you in Paris to have changed—to have changed in some subtle manner which I find at times utterly bewildering. Mr. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald. “I had found her at last, and she shot me. Kneebone took his leave. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired.
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