“By no means,” he answered. “But surely you cannot—”
The man smiled.
“No, sir,” he said drily. “I do not for one moment suspect you. The man was our spy upon your movements, but I am perfectly aware that there has been nothing worth reporting, and I also know that you would never run such a risk for the removal of so insignificant a person. No, my warning comes to you from a different point of view. It is, if you will pardon my saying so, none the less personal, but wholly friendly. The case of Duson will be sifted to the dregs, but unless I am greatly mistaken, and I do not see room for the possibility of a mistake, I know the truth already.”
“You will share your knowledge?” Mr. Sabin asked quietly.
The detective shook his head.
“You shall know,” he said, “before the last moment. But I want to warn you that when you do know it—it will be a shock to you.”
Mr. Sabin stood perfectly still for several moments. This little man believed what he was saying. He was certainly deceived. Yet none the less Mr. Sabin was thoughtful.
“You do not feel inclined,” he said slowly, “to give me your entire confidence.”
“Not at present, sir,” the man answered. “You would certainly intervene, and my case would be spoilt.”
Mr. Sabin glanced at the clock.