“Blind!” echoed Bertram. “Did you know this Average?”
“Of course. The pin-pricks showed it. And the letter mailed to Mr. Robinson at the General Delivery, which, if you remember, had the address penciled in from pin-holes.”
“When you have quite done discussing my personal misfortune,” said Honeywell patiently, “perhaps you will be good enough to tell me which is William Robinson.”
“I am,” returned the owner of that name. “And do you be good enough to tell me why you hound me with your hellish threats.”
“That is not William Robinson’s voice!” said the blind man. “Who are you?”
“William H. Robinson.”
“Not William Honeywell Robinson!”
“No; William Hunter Robinson.”
“Then why am I brought here?”
“To make a statement for publication in to-morrow morning’s newspaper,” returned Average Jones crisply.