He started up in horror, for the door-handle turned. Had they found out so soon? Was he to be arrested now?
“Harry—Harry!”
A quick husky whisper, but he could not speak.
“Harry, why don’t you answer? What are you staring at?”
“What do you want?”
“Look here, old fellow; I’ve been waiting for you to come up—all these hours. What have you found out?”
“That John Van Heldre was robbed to-night of five hundred pounds in notes, and you have that money.”
“I haven’t, I tell you again, not a shilling of it. Look here, what about the police? Have they put it in their hands?”
“The police are trying to trace the money and the man who struck Van Heldre down. Where is that money? It must be restored.”
“Then you must restore it, for I swear I haven’t a single note. Hang it, man, have I ever played you false?”