"Who in hell do you think you are?" shouted Grady, his face purple, "coming in here like this? Get out, or I'll have you thrown out!"
"Oh, I'll go," retorted Godfrey coolly. "I've seen all I care to see. Only I'll tell you one thing, Grady—you've signed your own death-warrant to-night!"
"What do you mean by that?" Grady demanded, in a lower tone.
"I mean that you won't last an hour after the story of this night's work gets out."
Grady's colour slowly faded as he met the burning and contemptuous gaze Godfrey turned upon him. As for me, an awful fear had gripped my heart.
"Do you mean to say it wasn't Piggott?" stammered Grady, at last.
Godfrey laughed scornfully.
"No, you blithering idiot!" he said. "It wasn't Pigot. It was
Crochard himself!"
And he stalked out, slamming the door behind him.