“Why?” asked Prescott, simply.
“Oh—oh, because—I—I don’t—didn’t like Gleason.”
“And so you killed him?”
“I haven’t said so.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m not obliged to incriminate myself, am I?” Pollard looked at him coldly.
“Where were you between six and seven this evening?”
“I refuse to tell,” Pollard answered, with a belligerent look, and Prescott nodded his head, with a satisfied smile.
CHAPTER IV—Pollard’s Threat
“Of course, you know, Mr Pollard,” Prescott said, “you are incriminating yourself by your refusal to answer my question. No one is as yet under suspicion of crime—indeed, it is not certain that a crime has been committed—but it is my duty to learn all I can of the circumstances of the case, and I must ask you what you meant by a threat to kill Mr Gleason.”