his doubt surged up, and he put the
quick question--

"Why has this woman imparted her suspicion to you? Why did she not take
it to the police, and appear at the inquest?"

"Because, by the greatest good luck, I met her on her way to do so,"
answered Nugent promptly. "It was on the day of the picnic--immediately
after the discovery of the body. I was aware of her relations with the
dead man, from what was said when we lunched at the Manor, and I guessed
what she was up to. I managed to throw dust in her eyes for the time,
and have contrived to hold her in check since, but she is growing
restive, and threatens to appear at the adjourned inquest."

Leslie stared dully at the speaker. He could almost feel the hangman's
noose at his neck. The bright vision of an hour ago had faded into
Cimmerian gloom. Nugent's clever face suggested the only possible source
of the advice of which he stood in such urgent need, and, almost against
his will, the question escaped him--

"What had I better do?"

"Cut and run for it. Avoid arrest at any price," was the ready reply.

"But I am not guilty. I did not murder the little Jew."

"You cannot prove that," Nugent rejoined, with a flicker of his hateful
smile. "Besides," he added, "consider the execration you would incur in
attempting to do so. What would your life be worth to you if you
managed to save it by confessing your share in the Violet Maynard
project?"

Leslie could frame no reply, and while he sought for one, a tiny sound,
that under other circumstances would have been disregarded, reached his
ears. Nugent, who was further from the door, evidently had not heard it.
Somewhere about half-way up the staircase a loose board creaked, but the
sound had been preceded by no footfall, nor, though he listened
intently, could Leslie detect that it was followed by one. Some
instinct, which he did not attempt to analyse then, but which he
afterwards knew was a desire to dissociate himself from Nugent in any
danger which that creaking stair might portend, prompted him not to call
attention to it. But, to prevent any chance of the remainder of their
conversation being overheard, he turned and closed the door smartly.

"If I make a bolt of it, where am I to bolt to?" he asked, lowering his
voice and stepping to the table.

A gleam of triumph, instantly suppressed, flashed in Nugent's eyes. "I
have considered that most carefully," he replied. "At the first hint of
your departure, in t