"Very little. She has been half beside herself trying to think what has become of you, especially since this affair of Duncan Rothwell."
We had crossed the road and were on the Embankment, walking towards the City side by side. Although I had made the allusion of set purpose, I was scarcely prepared for the effect which it had on him. Plainly, he was a person of ungovernable impulses. He stopped, swung, round, again the knife was gleaming in his grasp, and his hand was at my throat. But this time I succeeded in warding him off.
"What is the matter with you, man? Are you stark mad?"
He was breathing in great gasps. "What name--was that--you said?"
"Surely the name must be a familiar one to you by now. It has been to the front enough in all the papers."
"The paper! What papers?"
"The newspapers, man, of course!"
"How do I know what is in the newspapers? I never look at them. There is nothing in them which is of interest to me. What name was that you said? Tell me if you dare!"
He made a threatening gesture with his knife, seeming to be half frenzied with excitement.
"Duncan Rothwell--the man who was murdered at your wife's front door."