"Seems like it," snapped Vane, trying to bully him into calmness. He had never before seen Hench so upset, as the man was usually very quiet and self-controlled. Something very bad must have happened to unnerve him in this way. "I should like to know what is the meaning of all this," went on Vane crossly. "Upon my Sam, Owain, if I didn't know you were a sober chap I should have believed that you were drunk when you came in. I wonder some policeman didn't run you in between here and Lincoln's Inn Fields."
"I did see people staring at me," replied Hench in a stronger voice, as the brandy had done its work and he was rapidly recovering his balance. "Perhaps if I had come by a longer way I might have got into trouble. But you see, Jim, the distance----"
"Yes! Yes!" Vane dropped into his own favourite chair. "I know all about that, old son. Come to the point. What's up?"
"I've had a shock."
"Oh Lord! as if the most stupid person--which I am not--couldn't see as much. I can only conclude that Madame Alpenny has told the police and you are in danger of arrest. Yet you deny that such is the case."
"I do. Madame Alpenny has nothing to do with this particular matter. Yes, I have had a shock, but I'm all right now." Hench shook himself like a dog coming out of a pond and drew a long breath, then continued to talk calmly. His first remark was a question. "If I did get arrested, Jim, I suppose my best line of defence would be to say that, not knowing the dead man, I had no motive to kill him."
"That is my opinion," admitted the barrister. "Well?"
"Well, there is no chance of my taking up that line of defence."
"Why not? You told me that you did not know Squire Evans."
"I did. I don't contradict my admission."