XVII.
Bayard stood so still—with the composure of a man not without athletic training, determined to waste no strength in useless struggle—that Trawl instinctively loosened his clutch. Was the minister strangling? This was not Ben’s immediate purpose. His fingers relaxed.
“Ah,” said Bayard quietly, “so you are Jack Haddock.”
“I wrote that note. You might have known it if you hadn’t been a —— fool.”
“I might have known it—yes; I see. But I took you for a decent fellow. I couldn’t be expected to suspect you were—what you are. Well, Mr. Trawl, perhaps you will explain your business with me in some less uncomfortable manner.”
He shook Ben off with a strong thrust, and folded his arms.
“Come,” he said. “Out with it!”
“My game’s up,” replied Ben between his teeth. “I can’t do what I set out to, now. There’s too many witnesses in the case.”