“Good!” muttered Mitchington. “Good! Explains a lot.”
“But,” continued Ransford, “what I have to tell you now is of a much more serious—and confidential—nature. Now, do you know—but, of course, you don't!—that your proceedings tonight were watched?”
“Watched!” exclaimed Mitchington. “Who watched us?”
“Harker, for one,” answered Ransford. “And—for another—my late assistant, Mr. Pemberton Bryce.”
Mitchington's jaw dropped.
“God bless my soul!” he said. “You don't mean it, doctor! Why, how did you—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Ransford. He left the room, and the two callers looked at each other.
“This chap knows more than you think,” observed Jettison in a whisper. “More than he's telling now!”
“Let's get all we can, then,” said Mitchington, who was obviously much surprised by Ransford's last information. “Get it while he's in the mood.”
“Let him take his own time,” advised Jettison. “But—you mark me!—he knows a lot! This is only an instalment.”