Page:Yellow Claw 1920.djvu/87

 as you like, but I can’t describe him. I never saw his face. He stood behind me on the near side of the cab, and just reached forward and pushed a fiver under my nose.”

Inspector Dunbar searched the speaker’s face closely—and concluded that he was respecting the verity.

“How was he dressed?”

“In black, and that’s all I can tell you about him.”

“You took the money?”

“I took the money, yes”…

“What did he say to you?”

“Simply: ‘Drive off.’”

“Did you take him to be an Englishman from his speech?”

“No; he was not an Englishman. He had a foreign accent.”

“French? German?”

“No,” said Brian, looking up and meeting the glance of the fierce eyes. “Asiatic!”

Inspector Dunbar, closely as he held himself in hand, started slightly.

“Are you sure?”

“Certainly. Before I—when I was younger—I traveled in the East, and I know the voice and intonation of the cultured Oriental.”

“Can you place him any closer than that?”

“No, I can’t venture to do so.” Brian’s