"
"Sidney?"
"Her boy--the latest one."
"Describe Sidney."
"A dark fellow, foreign."
"French--German?"
"No. A sort of Indian, like."
"Indian?" snapped Wessex. "What do you mean by Indian?"
"Very dark," replied the woman without emotion, swinging a baby
she held to and fro in a methodical way which the detective found
highly irritating.
"You mean a native of India?"
"Yes, I should think so. I never noticed him much. Polly has so
many."
"How long has she known this man?"
"Only a month or so, but she is crazy about him."
"And when he came last night she went away with him?"
"Yes. She was all ready to go before the other gentleman called.
He must have told her something which made her think it was all
off, and she was crazy with joy when Sidney turned up. She had
all her things packed, and off she went."
Experience had taught Detective Inspector Wessex to recognize the
truth when he met it, and he did not doubt the statement of the
woman with the baby. "Can you give me any idea where this man
Sidney came from?" he asked.
"I am afraid I can't," replied the listless voice. "He was in the
service of some gentleman in the country; that's all I know about
him."
"Did Polly leave no address to which letters were to be
forwarded?"
"No; she said she would write."
"One other point," said Wessex, and he looked hard into the
woman's face: "What do you know about Fire-Tongue?"
He was answered by a stare of blank stupidity.
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