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"It's a bit too fishy for my liking," he went on, "when the only clues a man's got to go on are a dancing flame and a patch of charred grass which, by the way, never struck me as particularly interesting at the best of times and when evidence points so strongly toward young Merriton's guilt. All I can say is, let's go. That's the ticket for me." "And for me also, old man!" agreed Mr.
Shows what asses we human beings are, doesn't it? No offence meant, of course. As for you, Mr. Narkom or Mr. Gregory Lake, as I must remember to call you for the good of the cause I'm ashamed of you, I am indeed! You ought to know better, a man of your years!" "But the flames, Cleek, the flames!" There was a tension in Merriton's voice that spoke of nerves near to the breaking point.
He lifted a revolver from the table and held it in the hollow of his big palm. "This revolver is yours?" he said, peering up under his shaggy eyebrows into Merriton's face. "It is." "Very good. There has been, as you see, one shot fired from it. Of the six chambers one is empty."
"You damned, skulking liar!" Merriton leapt forward suddenly, and it was with difficulty that Cleek could restrain him from seizing the butler round the throat. "Gently, gently, my friend," interposed Cleek, as he neatly caught Merriton's upthrown arm. "It won't help you, you know, to attack a possible witness.
Nevertheless a cold chill crept over Merriton's bones and he gave a forced, mirthless laugh. "As true as the gospel, Sir Nigel!" said Borkins, solemnly. "That's what always 'appens. Every time any one ventures that way well, they're a-soundin' their own death-knell, so to speak, and you kin see the new light appear.
He glowered round upon each of them in turn, his sneering lips showing the pointed dogs' teeth behind them, his whole arrogant personality brutally awake. "Who'll take it on? You Merriton? Fifty pounds, man, that I don't get back safely and report to you chaps at twelve o'clock to-night." Merriton's flushed face went a shade or two redder, and he took an involuntary step forward.
But during the time which intervened before Merriton's arrival, Cleek did a little "altering" in face and general get-up, and when he did appear certainly no one would have recognized the aristocratic looking individual of a moment or two before, in an ordinary-appearing, stoop-shouldered, rather racy-looking tout. "Ready," said Cleek at last, and Mr. Narkom touched the bell upon his table.
Cleek held up a silencing hand as the name almost escaped Merriton's lips. "Officer, I'm from Scotland Yard. I'd like a word with the prisoner alone, if you don't mind, before you take him away. I'll answer for his safety, I promise.... Keep your heart up, boy; I've not done yet!" This in a low-pitched voice, as the two men dropped away from either side. "I've not done by a long shot.
Also, the little fat johnny at any rate, didn't quite look the type of man that the Merriton's were in the habit of entertaining at the Towers. However, he opened the door with a flourish, and told the gentlemen that "Sir Nigel is in the drorin'-room," whither he led them with much pomp. Cleek took in the place at a glance.
"Look here," he said. "Come and dine with me at the Towers before you go, Wynne, old man. We'll have a real bachelor party as you say. All the other chaps and you, just to give you a sort of send off. What about Tuesday? I won't have you say no." For a moment a look of friendship came into Wynne's eyes. He gazed into Merriton's, and then returned the hand-grasp frankly.
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