"It was the morning after that," said his father drily, "on Friday, and Strode was shot on Wednesday. I never went near the Red Deeps again. I didn't know if Strode was dead, but I knew that he had been shot. I steeled myself to bear the worst, but did not make any inquiries out of policy. When Wasp came that morning at breakfast, I knew what he had to say. Strode was dead. I dreaded lest Wasp should say that the revolver had been found, in which case you might have got into trouble, Allen: but I was thankful nothing was said of it."
The young man was astounded at this cool speech: but he passed it over, as it was useless to be angry with such a man. "I picked up the revolver as I said," he replied; "but about the document?"
"I hadn't time to get it. The shot frightened me."
"Did you see who fired the shot?"
"No. I was too afraid. I simply ran away and never looked back."
At this point Mask held up his hand. "I hear some one in the outer office," he said, and rose to open the door. Hill slipped behind the table quivering with fear. However, Mask returned to his seat. "I am wrong," he said, "there's no one there. Go on."
"What else do you want to know?" questioned Hill irritably.
"Why you fainted and left the house, when you got that cross from Giles Merry?"
Hill stared. "You knew it was Giles?" he stammered; "what do you know of Giles?"
"Nothing. But Mrs. Merry recognised the direction on the brown paper as being in her husband's writing. Why did you faint?"