Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. She was alone with a deadly enemy. And if I hadn't been thirsty, that poor boob would have made a sure getaway and left James Boyle high and dry among the moth-balls! Oh, the old dome works once every so often. I've despatched him to the New Prison. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. On the way he confessed. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing.
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