the doorway by a free use of his elbows; and when I looked at him again, his black eyes were blazing from a face white with passion, and they were fixed upon me.
“What the devil brings you here?” he thundered at last.
“Don’t ask idle questions,” was my reply to that.
“So you were shamming to-day!”
“I was taking a leaf out of your book.”
“You’ll gain nothing by being clever!” sneered the squire, taking a threatening step forward. For at the last moment I had tucked my revolver behind my back,
“My dear fellow, do consider!” said I. “What possible end could have been served by my stating what I couldn’t prove against a man who could never be brought to book in this world? Santos was punished as he deserved; his punishment was death, and there’s an end on’t.”
“You might be right,” said Rattray,