"I saw you, I saw the lady, and I saw the cab.
It was a cold morning, and I am not naturally a curious person.

I hurried on." Wrayson picked up the cigarette, which had fallen from his fingers, and sat down.

He could scarcely believe that this was not a dream--that it was indeed Stephen Heneage who sat opposite to him, Heneage the impenetrable, whose calm, measured words left no indication whatever as to his motive in making this amazing revelation.
"You are naturally wondering," Heneage continued, "why, having seen what I did see, I kept silence.

I followed your lead, because I fancied, in the first place, that the presence of that young lady was a personal affair of your own, and that she could have no possible connection with the tragedy itself.

You were evidently disposed to shield her and yourself at the same time.