"Mr. Evans, Simon," corrected Gwen quickly. "That is his real name."
"I think I shall always be Hench to Bottles," said Owain, laughing. "He can call me what he likes as he has done so much for me. But you would have saved a lot of trouble, Bottles, if you had told the police at once."
"So the Inspector said, sir," grinned the boy. "He gave me what-for, he did. But I wanted to see the game out, sir."
Owain saw that Bottles would persist in regarding the whole dreadful business as a game, in spite of its terrible termination, so he left the subject alone. "But you might have guessed, my detective friend, that Spruce would accuse me, as he wanted to get my money. He committed the murder to trap me."
"I thought he'd do that through Madame Alpenny when you married Miss Zara," was the boy's reply, promptly given. "As you'd never have liked your mother-in-law to be hanged. You didn't mind my giving the address I got from Peter to Madame Alpenny and the little cove, did you, sir?"
"I did when I was in the dark. But now I see that you did so deliberately."
"It was part of the game," persisted Bottles coolly. "And as the little cove had gone so far, I knew he'd go further. If I hadn't told him and Madame of your address they might have asked the police where you were."
"That suggestion doesn't do credit to your detective acumen, Bottles. Had either of the two brought the police into the matter, they would not have been able to get the expected money. Spruce was playing the blackmail game."
"I see, sir." Bottles rubbed his red head. "Well, I've got something to learn yet, I expect, as a 'tec, and I ain't above learning. But thank you for helping me, sir, and for helping mother. She's a good one, is mother, and gave me such a talking for not having spoke out before."
"Between the Inspector and your mother, I daresay you have had a bad time, Bottles," said Vane idly.