“Arrested on the charge of murder?” Bolton gasped, and he staggered towards the door, past Phillip Redgill, whose countenance wore a malicious smile of triumph.
The news stunned the young man, and he would have rushed away from the spot.
At that moment, however, Mr. Faulkner and another unprepossessing, ugly-looking member of the “Bakers’ dozen” appeared at the door, and politely collared the astonished youth.
He was borne away to prison more dead than alive.
But before Captain Jack left the private office he helped himself to another glass of wine, and, as he went out, whispered to Phillip,
“Can’t I see you some time to-night?”
“Where?” answered Phillip, in a faint voice.
“At the ‘Cat and Bagpipes’ over the water.”
“What time?”
“At twelve.”