“Them?”
“Yes. Father—as well as the Wolf.”
“Your father?”
A mirthless laugh broke from the girl.
“Yes. You don’t know Pideau. This still was his whole fortune. I’ve put you, the p’lice, wise to it.”
Fyles nodded.
“I see,” he said. “You need have no fear. I’ll see you safe. The Wolf will be at police quarters to-morrow night, after dark. So will you. You get me? Till then there’ll be no word—to anyone. It’s up to you. We’ll fix it at six o’clock to-morrow night. It’ll be dark then.”
Annette’s gaze again sought the dead man, as though the sight of the remains of the father of her child afforded her support. Fyles saw her swallow as if her throat were parching.
“And then?” she asked in a low tone.
“Why, your evidence will be needed in Calford.”