The man into whose hands he had fallen shook him until his teeth seemed to rattle, and whispered angrily—“So you’ve bungled it, have you?—rousing the house in that fashion. Who’s got the necklace?”
“D-D-Dandy C-C-Chater!” stuttered Cripps, faintly.
The man dropped him, as hurriedly as though he had been red-hot; looked all about him; and seemed to breathe hard.
“What do you mean? What the devil are you talking about?” He spoke in what seemed almost a frightened whisper.
The little man, bewildered alike by the shaking, and by the sudden change in the demeanour of Ogledon, lost his balance completely, and stammered out—
“It’s no good—the devil is in everything. I fished him out of the river only this very day, and laid him on the bank, as dead as twenty doornails; yet he caught me in the garden here just now, and stared straight into my eyes—and he’s got the diamond necklace!”
“You’re mad!” whispered the other, in the same uneasy fashion.
“I’m not—I’m not—but I soon shall be!” muttered Cripps. “I tell you that Dandy Chater is dead—been dead for days; and yet he’s got the necklace, and is in that garden”—he pointed awfully behind him, as he spoke—“at the present moment. As sure as I’m a living sinner—Dandy Chater has come to life again!”
CHAPTER XII
WANTED—A DEAD MAN!
For quite a long minute, Ogledon stared at the trembling Cripps—knitting his brows, and biting his lips at him—the while he turned this thing over in his mind. And the more he stared at Cripps, the more did that gentleman continue to babble of Dandy Chater dead, and Dandy Chater alive and with the diamond necklace. Presently, the strong common sense of the bigger man seemed to assert itself; he caught Cripps by the shoulder, and shook him again, and compelled his attention.