"Oh, was he in it?"
Hugh and Nikka exchanged glances.
"Well, take a look at this fellow," suggested Nikka.
He switched the torch on the body by the hearth. There was a red splotch over the heart. The right hand still clutched convulsively a long knife, with a slight curve near the keen point of the blade. The light settled on a dark, thin, hooknosed face.
"Ever seen him before?" inquired Hugh.
"No," I admitted regretfully.
"Oh, Watty!" called Hugh.
"Yes, your ludship."
Watkins maintained all his usual dignity of demeanor, notwithstanding that he was in his nightshirt and bare feet, with a snuffed-out candle in one hand and an automatic in the other.
"Ever seen this man before?"