that you'll not be able to think as well of some people in the future as you have thought of them in the past. For instance—Mr. Elphick."
Breton's face grew dark.
"Speak plainly, Spargo!" he said. "It's best with me."
"Very well," replied Spargo. "Mr. Elphick, then, is in some way connected with this affair."
"You mean the—murder?"
"I mean the murder. So is Cardlestone. Of that I'm now dead certain. And that's why they're off. I startled Elphick last night. It's evident that he immediately communicated with Cardlestone, and that they made a rapid exit. Why?"
"Why? That's what I'm asking you! Why? Why? Why?"
"Because they're afraid of something coming out. And being afraid, their first instinct is to—run. They've run at the first alarm. Foolish—but instinctive."
Breton, who had flung himself into the elbow-chair at his desk, jumped to his feet and thumped his blotting-pad.
"Spargo!" he exclaimed. "Are you telling me that you accuse my guardian and his friend, Mr. Cardlestone, of being—murderers?"
"Nothing of the sort. I am accusing Mr. Elphick and Mr. Cardlestone of knowing more about the murder than they care to tell or want to tell. I am also accusing them, and especially your guardian, of knowing all about
