Paul Harley inclined his head gravely.
“May I suggest,” he said, “that you will be called upon to do so under circumstances which will brook no denial.”
Colin Camber watched him unflinchingly.
“‘The fate of every man is hung around his neck,’” he replied.
“Yet, in this secret history which you refuse to divulge, and which therefore must count against you, the truth may lie which exculpates you.”
“It may be so. But my determination remains unaltered.”
“Very well,” answered Paul Harley, quietly, but I could see that he was exercising a tremendous restraint upon himself. “I respect your decision, but you have given me a giant’s task, and for this I cannot thank you, Mr. Camber.”
I heard a car pulled up in the road outside the Guest House. Colin Camber clenched his hands and sat down again in the carved chair.
“The opportunity has passed,” said Harley. “The police are here.”