“And you?” to the maid.
“I don’t know exactly, sir; but he wasn’t very old.”
“Light or dark?”
“He was light,” Coplin said. “He needed a shave, and his beard was yellowish.”
“More of a light brown,” Phylis amended.
“Maybe, but it was light.”
“What color eyes?”
“I don’t know. He had a cap pulled down over them. They looked dark, but that might have been because they were in the shadow.”
“How would you describe the part of his face you could see?”
“Pale, and kind of weak looking—small chin. But you couldn’t see much of his face: he had his coat collar turned up and his cap pulled down.”
“How was he dressed?”
“A blue cap pulled down over his eyes, a blue suit, black shoes, and black gloves—silk ones.”
“Shabby or neat?”
“Kind of cheap looking clothes, needing pressing, awfully wrinkled.”
“What sort of gun?”
Phylis Coplin put in her word ahead of her father.
“Papa and Hilda keep calling it a revolver, but it was an automatic—a .38.”