“What colour was his hair?” interposed Captain Sergeantson. “Any moustache?”
The girl looked at him in surprise at the question.
“Fair--sticking up straight. No moustache--why?”
“Well--it seemed that we were all looking at this man and not the girl at all. She had disappeared behind him, or into him, I don’t know which. The other two men were talking to him--talking earnestly. And it seemed to me that it was extremely--oh, _immensely_--important that I should understand what they were saying. I listened with all my soul. It almost hurt me to listen as hard as I did--And yet I couldn’t get a word of it. What they said was, somehow, just out of reach--like people you see talking on the bioscope. And then, all of a sudden, I heard--one sentence--as clearly as possible, ‘_Forsdyke is the man who prepares the schedule!_’”
Jimmy Lomax uttered a sharp cry of amazement.
“What!” He turned to Forsdyke. “Chief, that’s strange!”
“Go on, Hetty,” he said, calmly. “What then?”
“Then I woke up. The words were ringing in my ears. They haunted me all the time I was dressing for dinner. I wondered if I ought to tell you. Something was whispering to me that I should. But I was afraid you would laugh at me. But that’s not all. You remember at dinner I dropped a glass.--Poppa!” Her voice suddenly became very earnest. “I saw that man--the man who had grown out of the girl--_standing behind you_. His eyes were fixed on you as though trying to read into you--so evilly that I went cold all over.”
“No vision of the room in Berlin--or wherever it was?” he queried.
“No. Just the man. But even that’s not all. Just now--when I was playing and looking across to you--_I distinctly saw him again_, close behind Poppa! He moved this time--moved with a funny little limp--just like a real man with a bad leg. I jumped up--and--and he was gone!” She looked around apprehensively as though expecting to see him still.
“Your liver’s out of order, my dear,” said her father. “Take a pill when you go to bed to-night.”
“No,” said the girl, “it’s not that. I know you would say I was ill--that is why I asked the Professor to examine me. I am sure it _means_ something!”
Captain Sergeantson threw the end of his cigar into the fireplace and took a wallet out of his pocket. The wallet contained photographs. He handed them to the girl.