"Oh, I have eyes at the end of my fingers," said the other, caressingly. "Why, I know every bit of this large house, so it will not be difficult to learn all about a small cottage. But fancy Walter loving a blind girl like me." "You are so pretty, Parizade." "I am glad of that, and it's all really genuine. Oh"--Parizade fell back on her pillows with a sigh--"how glad I shall be to take my own name and leave this horrid Pink Shop. Has what I told you given you any help? I do so want my share of the reward." "I have got no help from it so far," said Miss Toat, shaking her head. "Tell me again exactly what happened." "Oh, I have told you over and over again," said Parizade, petulantly. "There was another person in the house on that night." "I know; Rosy Pearl," said the detective, swiftly. "Yes; she was the customer who slept in the upstairs bedroom, and who did not wish her name to be known. Inspector Lanton was told by Madame, but as Miss Pearl knew nothing she was not called as a witness at her own request. But how did you learn the name, Miss Toat? Madame warned the girls not to tell it to anyone." "I learnt it indirectly from Madame herself," said Miss Toat, evasively. "I suppose she was the person you heard breathing in the passage?" "No," said Parizade, decisively. "I am sure that person was a man." "Why do you think so?" "Because the breathing was so heavy, and there was that smell of Harris tweed--you can't mistake that smell--and only men wear Harris tweed." "Yes and no. Ladies sometimes have dresses made of it. But describe exactly how you came to hear and smell this person." "Oh"--Parizade yawned--"I have told you so often." "Tell me again. Every time you tell me I get a fresh idea." "Well," said the blind girl, lying back passively, "on the night of the murder--of course, we none of us knew anything about it until next morning--Madame and the girls went to bed just after nine o'clock, as we were all so tired. Madame, after she saw Miss Branwin at the door to say that her mother would remain for treatment, sent away her husband and retired. It was just after nine when I remembered that I left a present from Walter to me in the shop. I didn't want the other girls to see it, so I went down about half-past nine." "In the darkness, of course?" said the listening detective. "Yes. Darkness and light are the same to me. I know the house so well that I never stumble or miss my way. Well, I found the present--a pair of gloves--just where Peri Banou had been lying in the alcove--I believe she must have seen them. Then, in returning along the lower passage, I heard the sound of heavy breathing at the end near the door which leads into the court." "That was locked." "It always is; but it might have been open for all I know on that night. I knew someone was there, and guessed that it was a man, as I smelt the peculiar scent of Harris tweed so strongly. I fancied that Eddy Vail had not gone away, but had come back."