"Nor know where it lies hidden?" Ghastly pale he became,—livid, almost blue by degrees. Though he was fully determined to give up the will, he could not yield to the pressure now put upon him. Nor could he withstand it. The question was as terrible to him as though he had entertained no idea of abandoning the property. To acknowledge that he knew all along where it was hidden would be to confess his guilt and to give himself up to the tormentors of the law.
"Nor know where it lies hidden?" repeated Mr Apjohn, in a low voice. "Go out of the room, Ricketts," he said. "Nor know where it lies hidden?" he asked a third time when the clerk had closed the door behind him.
"I know nothing about it," gasped the poor man.
"You have nothing beyond that to say to me?"
"Nothing."
"You would rather that it should be left to Mr Cheekey? If there be anything further that you can say, I should be more tender with you than he."
"Nothing."
"And here, in this room, there is no public to gaze upon you."
"Nothing," he gasped again.
"Very well. So be it. Ricketts, see if the fly be there for Mr Jones." A few minutes afterwards his confidential clerk was alone with him in the room.