"I have never heard of Miss Seymour," he answered. "In fact, I haven't the remotest notion what you're talking about."
Colin came a step nearer. "Haven't you?" he said. "Then perhaps I'd better explain."
He thrust his hand under Medwin's chin, and, jerking up his face, stared down into his eyes.
"Now, you damned liar," he said, "listen to me. You know as well as I do who Miss Seymour is. You have known it ever since you broke into the Red Lodge and opened the Professor's desk."
He released his hold and, gripping Medwin by the collar, shook him backward and forward as a dog shakes a rat.
"My God, I'd kill you where you sit if I didn't want an answer to my question. You've not only tried to rob and ruin this girl, but if it wasn't for you and Fenton the Professor would be still alive."
He flung back the half-throttled man with such force that the woodwork of the chair cracked and splintered beneath his weight.
Joe, who had been looking on with silent approval hauled the victim unceremoniously to his feet.
"Nah, cocky," he said, "where's the young laidy? Spit it aht quick."
Choking and gasping for breath, Medwin retreated toward the sofa.