"Did you happen to notice whether Mr. Grex was in there?" Richard enquired.
"I didn't see him," Hunterleys answered. "Neither," he added significantly, "did I see Miss Grex."
"Well, I am going in to have a look round, anyway," Richard decided. "You might come along. There's nothing else to do in this place until dinner-time."
Hunterleys suffered himself to be persuaded and remounted the steps.
"Tell me, Lane," he asked curiously, "have you heard anything about any of the victims of our little struggle last night—I mean the two men we tackled?"
Richard shook his head.
"I hear that mine has a broken wrist," he said. "Can't say I am feeling very badly about that!"
"I've just been told that mine is going to die," Hunterleys continued.
The young man laughed incredulously.
"Why, I went over the prison this morning," he declared. "I never saw such a healthy lot of ruffians in my life. That chap whom you tackled—the one with the revolver—was smoking cigarettes and using language—well, I couldn't understand it all, but what I did understand was enough to melt the bars of his prison."