the only child of the man who was found murdered at the foot of Cardlestone's staircase!"
Spargo had been wondering how Breton would take this, and he gazed at him with some anxiety as he got out the last words. What would he do?—what would he say?—what
Breton sat down quietly at his desk and looked Spargo hard between the eyes.
"Prove that to me, Spargo," he said, in hard, matter-of-fact tones. "Prove it to me, every word. Every word, Spargo!"
Spargo nodded.
"I will—every word," he answered. "It's the right thing. Listen, then."
It was a quarter to twelve, Spargo noticed, throwing a glance at the clock outside, as he began his story; it was past one when he brought it to an end. And all that time Breton listened with the keenest attention, only asking a question now and then; now and then making a brief note on a sheet of paper which he had drawn to him.
"That's all," said Spargo at last.
"It's plenty," observed Breton laconically.
He sat staring at his notes for a moment; then he looked up at Spargo. "What do you really think?" he asked.
"About—what?" said Spargo.
"This flight of Elphick's and Cardlestone's."
"I think, as I said, that they knew something which they think may be forced upon them. I never saw a man in a greater fright than that I saw Elphick in last
