‘Here too,’ echoed the lawyer; ‘here and everywhere, my good fellow; every step you take is counted; trained detectives follow you like your shadow; they report to me every three-quarters of an hour; no expense is spared.’
Morris’s face took on a hue of dirty grey. ‘Well, I don’t care; I have the less reserve to keep,’ he cried. ‘That man cashed my bill; it’s a theft, and I want the money back.’
‘Do you think I would lie to you, Morris?’ asked Michael.
‘I don’t know,’ said his cousin. ‘I want my money.’
‘It was I alone who touched the body,’ began Michael.
‘You? Michael!’ cried Morris, starting back. ‘Then why haven’t you declared the death?’ ‘What the devil do you mean?’ asked Michael.
‘Am I mad? or are you?’ cried Morris.
‘I think it must be Pitman,’ said Michael.
The three men stared at each other, wild-eyed.
‘This is dreadful,’ said Morris, ‘dreadful. I do not understand one word that is addressed to me.’