and Hounds at ten o 'clock. You know you didn't--that it was nearer half
past eleven when you reached this house. Consider what that discrepancy
alone might have meant if Scotland Yard failed to take your measure
correctly. Then add the fact that the murderer wore the hat, wig, and
whiskers in which you made a guy of yourself while filling the rôle of
Svengali last winter. Now, I ask you, Elkin, where would you have stood
with the average British jury when the prosecution established those
three things: Motive, your jealousy of Grant; time, your unaccounted-for
disappearance during the hour when the crime was committed; and disguise,
a clumsy suggestion of Owd Ben's ghost? Really, I have known men brought
to the scaffold on circumstantial evidence little stronger than that.
Instead of glaring at me like a cornered rat you ought to drop on your
knees and thank providence, as manifested through the intelligence of the
'Yard,' that you are not now in a cell at Knoleworth, ruminating on your
own stupidity, and in no small jeopardy of your life."

Many emotions chased each other across Fred Elkin's somewhat mean and
cruel face while Furneaux rated him in this extraordinary manner.
Surprise, wrath, even fear, had their phases. But, dominating all other
sensations, was an overpowering indignation at the implied hopelessness
of his pursuit of Doris Martin.

He literally howled an oath at his torturer. Furneaux was shocked.

"No, no," he protested in a horrified tone. "Don't swear at your
best friend."

"Friend! By--, I'll make you pay for what you've said. There's a law
to stop that sort of thing."