"Jacques Moisson?"
"The son of that old crone Marie there. He caught the dope habit evidently from his master and has been to the bad ever since Arsdale senior died. The old lady has been hiding him part of the time in the garret of the house."
Donaldson's thoughts flew back to the bungalow; it was this fellow then and not Arsdale who had attacked him,—if Saul's story was true.
Saul approached him with outstretched hand.
"You played a heavy game, Don."
Donaldson grew suspicious.
"I don't know what you 're talking about," he said, his lips coming tightly together again.
"No. Of course not! That's right. Keep it up! But I 'll have my revenge. I 'll give the newspaper boys every detail of it. I 'll see your name in letters six inches higher than they were even this morning. I will; I swear it!"
"Saul," said Donaldson quietly, "you 're doing your best to make me go back upon my story. You can't do it."
Saul folded his arms.