"Every dog has his day, Hendle," he said maliciously. "This is mine."
"Don't be too sure," replied Rupert, rejecting the proffered hand. "There's many a slip between cup and lip, remember."
"You are full of wisdom," sneered Carrington. "Well, you will need it all to earn money when you are a pauper."
Hendle stepped forward until he towered over the smaller man and spoke slowly. "Don't tempt me to give you the thrashing which I let you off with the other day, Carrington," he murmured. "Let us get to business, and rid me of your presence as soon as possible."
"Oh, I am ready to go into business as soon as you like," retorted the barrister, still triumphant. "But why is Dr. Tollart here?"
"I am here," said Tollart gruffly, "to state to your face that you were in Barship on the night when Leigh was murdered."
Carrington started, and, in spite of his self-command, winced at the plain speech. His swarthy face grew slightly pale, but he still maintained his air of bravado. "Well, then, I am not here to talk about Leigh's murder," he said viciously, "but to see about this transfer of the Hendle estates to my friend Mr. Mallien."
"Don't call me your friend," growled Mallien, ferociously. "You are no friend of mine. All you want is to get money out of me."
"Take care," said Carrington, glancing at the others, "remember what I know."
"And what do you know?" demanded Mallien coolly.