"Who is he, then?" asked Nikka placidly.
"He is that same Toutou Hugh's uncle spoke of."
Hugh leaped up.
"How do you know that, Jack?"
"I just know, that's all. Yesterday afternoon I saw him, although I did not recognize him, as he normally is. He's fearsome enough in that mood, God knows! Well, a few minutes ago I saw him blood-crazed. He wanted to bite my throat out like a tiger. Oh, he's Toutou, all right."
Hugh's face grew bitter-hard.
"In that case," he said, "I am going to drive over to Little Depping, and do a bit of killing on my own."
Watkins, without a word, deposited his snuffed candle on the mantel-shelf next an open kit of burglar's tools, and stepped up beside his master.
"You can't do that sort of thing, Hugh," I urged.
"Why not? He's a murderer, isn't he? He killed my uncle—butchered the poor old chap! D'you suppose Hilyer would dare to complain to the police?"