The prognostications of Dr. Jim proved to be correct. Joyce had not attempted flight. He was waiting in his sitting-room for the coming of the doctor, and he looked horribly frightened. Herrick could have found it in his heart to be sorry for the wretched little creature with his white haggard face and staring eyes; but he remembered what was at stake, and made up his mind to be stern even to the verge of brutality. For all he knew this treacherous little scoundrel might have hinted to the outside world that Bess was involved in the murder of Carr. If he had done this, Herrick considered that nothing would be too bad for him. It was in a very stern frame of mind that Dr. Jim sat down opposite his former friend. Robin winced at the regard of those once kind eyes. He felt like a rabbit in the presence of a boa-constrictor. "Well!" said Jim grimly eying the miserable wretch, "and what have you to say for yourself?"
"Nothing!" returned Robin sullenly. "I am afraid I shall not be satisfied with that Joyce. You will have to tell me the whole of your doings, from first to last."
"I have done nothing so very wrong Jim--"
"One moment," interposed Herrick, "I think you had better call me by my last name. We are not friends now you know."
"Will, I call you Dr. Herrick," said Robin with a small sneer.
"I think it might be better--sir," drawled Herrick, and the contempt in his tone made the self-satisfied Joyce wince.
"If I had done anything wrong I should not have waited to see you."
"That's a lie," replied the plain-spoken Jim. "You know me better than that. Had you bolted I should have had the police on your track before night-fall. You know me, as I said before. Your only chance is to make a clean breast of this damnable business."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't bandy words with me Joyce. It won't do. You are in a cleft stick and no amount of wriggling will serve you. If you want a lead here is one. You told me at Southberry that you went up up see Frith and Frith."