How, presently, looking at the veranda opposite, he had seen the door of Mr Maule's bedroom open, and a woman come out, how she had stood a few moments facing him, with the moonlight straight on her, so that there was no possibility of his making a mistake.

Harris paused.

McKeith glared at the man, who, had he been quick at psychological interpretations, would have read an awful apprehension underlying the ill-restrained fury in the other's face.
The question came in hoarse jerks.
'What--Who--Who was it you saw-- ?' 'It was the Lady Bridget, Boss....

I--' Before he could proceed, a strong arm struck out and McKeith's hand clutched at the Police Inspector's neck.
'You hound! You contemptible skunk! Take back that lie, or I'll throttle it in your throat.' Harris was of powerful build also, and, moreover knew some tricks of defence and assault.

He freed himself by a dexterous duck of his head, and a sharp shake of his body, and stepped backward so that the office table was between him and his antagonist.
His face was scarlet, his bull's eyes protruded from their full sockets.