"Are you trying to convict me?" Dick demanded.
"I'm trying to get the truth," remarked Hatch.
"There is just one man in the world whom I must see before the truth can ever be told," declared Dick vehemently. "And I can't find him now. I don't know where he is!"
"Let me find him. Who is he? What's his name?"
"If I told you that I might as well tell you everything," Dick went on. "It was to prevent any mention of that name that I have allowed myself to be placed in this position. It is purely a personal matter between us—at least I will make it so—and if I ever meet him——" his hands closed and unclosed spasmodically, "the truth will be known unless I—I kill him first."
More bewildered, more befuddled, and more generally betangled than ever, Hatch put his hands to his head to keep it from flying off. Finally he glanced around at Dick, who stood with clenched fists and closed teeth. A blaze of madness lay in Dick's eyes.
"Have you seen Miss Meredith again?" inquired the reporter.
Dick burst out laughing.
Half an hour later Hatch left him. On the glass top of an inkstand he carried three precious drops of Herbert's blood.