"No."
"After he had gone, what did Polly do?"
"Sat and cried for about half an hour, then Sidney came for her."
"Sidney?"
"Her boy—the latest one."
"Describe Sidney."
"A dark fellow, foreign."
"French—German?"
"No. A sort of Indian, like."
"Indian?" snapped Wessex. "What do you mean by Indian?"
"Very dark," replied the woman without emotion, swinging a baby she held to and fro in a methodical way which the detective found highly irritating.
"You mean a native of India?"
"Yes, I should think so. I never noticed him much. Polly has so many."
"How long has she known this man?"
"Only a month or so, but she is crazy about him."
"And when he came last night she went away with him?"
"Yes. She was all ready to go before the other gentleman called. He must have told her something which made her think it was all off, and she was crazy with joy when Sidney turned up. She had all her things packed, and off she went."
Experience had taught Detective Inspector Wessex to recognize the truth when he met it, and he did
