"Never mind that kind of palaver, Nichols. The fact that you were with that old devil, and that he sent you here, is all I wanted to learn. Now what did he send you for?"
I waited, my eyes on his. I could not see the girl, and dare not avert my gaze for so much as an instant. The man wet his lips, as if they were parched, and I could perceive the nervous movement of his throat.
"Well, you are slower in answering me than is altogether safe. I'll warn you this once. Ned Cowan knew, by some means, that Miss Harwood was alone in this house tonight. He ordered you to come here for some special purpose of his own—what was it? Is he coming later?"
"I—I don't know."
"Don't know what?—this is my last call!"
"I don't know whether he is coming, or not," he blurted out reluctantly. "He was hurt in the fight."
"And if he cannot come himself he means to send others. What for? To loot the house? Come, it must be something different from that, or he would not be so anxious to surprise the lady here alone. You know, Nichols! and you are going to answer! What does he want of the girl?"
My hammer clicked, and the man cringing back, read the stern meaning of my face. A terrible sus-
