"Were your accomplices all men?" I interrupted sharply.
The man's stare met mine. He looked at me with, I thought, singular malevolence.
"They were not," he answered quietly. He turned again to Sir Roland. "Just after your son had been rendered unconscious, I had the misfortune to slip up on the polished floor and sprain my ankle badly. No sooner did my companion realize what had happened, than he snatched from me all the stolen property I held, in spite of my endeavour to prevent him, then emptied my pockets, and left me. Dismayed at being thus desertedfor unless I could hide at once I must, I knew, quickly be discoveredI crawled out of the room on all fours, and along the landing as far as the angle where the hiding-place is. The hole was openwe had opened it before entering your room, lest we might be surprised and suddenly forced to hide. Almost as I reached it I heard somebody coming. Instantly I scrambled down and slid the board over my head."
"How came you to know of the existence and the whereabouts of the hiding-hole at all?" Sir Roland inquired, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.
"That I do not wish to tell. I hoped ultimately to be rescued by my accomplices, and for that reason I made no sound which might have revealed my presence. My ankle had swollen considerably, and, confined in my riding-boot, which I couldn't pull off, it gave me intense pain. To clamber out unaided was consequently an impossibility; so there I lay, slowly starving, hoping, night after night, that my accomplices would force an entrance into the house and rescue me, for my companion who left me must have guessed where I was in hidingwe had agreed, as I have said, to seek concealment in that hole should either of us be driven to hide in order to escape detection."
"Was the man who deserted you the man who deliberately strained my boy's arm by twisting it?" Sir Roland asked.
"Yes."
"What is his name?"
"GastrellHugesson Gastrell, that's the name the brute is known by. He always was a blackguarda perisher! I shall refuse to betray any of the others; they are my friends. But Hugesson Gastrelldon't forget that name, Sir Roland. You may some day be very glad I told it to youthe man of The Four Faces!"
He paused. He seemed suddenly to be growing weaker. As we sat there, watching him, I could not help in a sense feeling pity for the fellow, and I knew that Sir Roland felt the same. It seemed terrible to find a man like this, quite younghe was certainly under thirtya man with the unmistakable cachet of public school and university, engaged in a career of infamy. What was his life's story I wondered as I looked at him, noting how refined his features were, what well-shaped hands he had. Why had he sunk so low? Above all, who was he? for certainly he was no ordinary malefactor.