CHAPTER XLVII
THE TRACK BROADENS
There was an uneasy grin on Merritt's face, a suggestion that he did not altogether trust those around him. Hard experience in the ways of the wicked had taught him the folly of putting his confidence in anyone. Just for the moment the impulse to shuffle was upon him.
"If I say nothing, then I can't do any harm," he remarked, sapiently.
"Best, on the whole, for me to keep my tongue between my teeth."
"Mr. Henson is a dangerous man to cross," Chris suggested.
"He is that," Merritt agreed. "You don't know him as I do."
Chris conceded the point, though she had her own views on that matter. Lord Littimer had seated himself on the broad stone bench along the terrace, whence he was watching the scene with the greatest zest and interest.
"You imagine Mr. Henson to be a friend of yours?" Chris asked.
Merritt nodded and grinned. So long as he was useful to Henson he was fairly safe.
"Mr. Merritt," Chris asked, suddenly, "have you ever heard of
Reuben Taylor?"