“Who, then?” demanded Mitchington.
Glassdale went a step nearer to the two officials and lowered his voice.
“The man who's known here as Stephen Folliot,” he answered. “That's a fact!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mitchington. Then he laughed incredulously. “Can't believe it!” he continued. “Mr. Folliot! Must be some mistake!”
“No mistake,” replied Glassdale. “Besides, Folliot's only an assumed name. That man is really one Falkiner Wraye, the man Braden, or Brake, was seeking for many a year, the man who cheated Brake and got him into trouble. I tell you it's a fact! He's admitted it, or as good as done so, to me just now.”
“To you? And—let you come away and spread it?” exclaimed Mitchington. “That's incredible! more astonishing than the other!”
Glassdale laughed.
“Ah, but I let him think I could be squared, do you see?” he said. “Hush-money, you know. He's under the impression that I'm to go back to him this evening to settle matters. I knew so much—identified him, as a matter of fact—that he'd no option. I tell you he's been in at both these affairs—certain! But—there's another man.”
“Who's he?” demanded Mitchington.
“Can't say, for I don't know, though I've an idea he'll be a fellow that Brake was also wanting to find,” replied Glassdale. “But anyhow, I know what I'm talking about when I tell you of Folliot. You'd better do something before he suspects me.”