“May as well have all the extries,” replied the cabman, sitting down and grasping the decanter with the air of a man who means business. “Per’aps you wouldn’t mind squirtin’ out the soda, sir, bein’ more used to it.”

While these preliminaries were being arranged, Polton silently slipped out of the room, and when our visitor had fortified himself with a gulp of the uncommonly stiff mixture, the examination began.

“Your name, I think, is Wilkins?” said Thorndyke.

“That’s me, sir. Samuel Wilkins is my name.”

“And your occupation?”

“Is a very tryin’ one and not paid for as it deserves. I drives a cab, sir; a four-wheeled cab is what I drives; and a very poor job it is.”

“Do you happen to remember a very foggy day about a month ago?”