"What do you want?" demanded Giles savagely, and becoming the English gipsy at once. "I've no time to waste?"
"Why did you send that cross to Mr. Hill?"
Giles grinned. "Just to give him a fright," he said. "I knew he was a milk-and-water fool, as I saw a lot of him in the old days, when I did Strode's dirty work."
"You dug up the wooden hand?"
"No, I didn't. Butsey, who was on the watch, saw Hill plant it, and dug it up. He brought it to me, and I gave it to Father Don. Then Butsey stole it back, and passed it along to that young woman you're going to marry."
"I guess," said Horace at this point, "you'd best speak civil of Miss Strode. I'm not taking any insolence this day."
Allen nodded approval, and Giles cast a look over the big limbs of the American. Apparently, strong man as he was, he thought it would be best not to try conclusions with such a giant. "I wish I'd met you in Father Don's den," he said. "I'd have smashed that handsome face of yours."
"Two can play at that game," said Allen quietly; "and now, Mr. Merry, or Signor Antonio, or whatever you choose to call yourself, why shouldn't I hand you over to Wasp?"
"You can't bring any charge against me."
"Oh, can't I? You know something about this murder----"