"Don't be a fool, Wynne," he said anxiously. "The game's not worth the
candle. Stay where you are and I'll put you up for the night, but in
Heaven's name don't venture out across the Fens now."

Wynne turned and showed him a reddened, congested face from which the
eyes gleamed evilly. Merriton never forgot that picture of him, or the
sudden tightening of the heart-strings that he experienced, the sudden
sensation of foreboding that swept over him.

"Oh--go to hell!" Wynne said thickly. And plunged out into the darkness.




CHAPTER VI

A SHOT IN THE DARK


The church clock, some distance over Herne's Hill which lies at the back
of Merriton Towers, broke the half silence that had fallen upon the
little group of men in the warm smoking room with twelve sonorous,
deep-throated notes. At sound of them Merriton got to his feet and
stretched his hands above his head. A damper had fallen over the spirits
of his guests after Wynne had gone out into the night on his foolish
errand, and the fury against him that had stirred Nigel's soul was
gradually wearing off.

"Well, Wynne said twelve, didn't he?" he remarked, with a sort of
half-laugh as he surveyed the grave faces of the men who were seated in