You, sir,” he added, turning to Brendon, “had better take my card round to the police station in Werner Street and ask that Detective Dorling be sent round here at once on urgent business. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged. . Her eye met his four inches away, and his was glaring, immense, and full of resolution, a stupendous monster of an eye. The spy—if there was one hiding out in the late Jarvis Remenham’s empty house—would be taken unawares. At last in a street near the Hampstead Road she hit upon a room that had an exceptional quality of space and order, and a tall woman with a kindly face to show it. ‘I am not a person, Marthe.
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