He thinks he can ingratiate himself with--you!" "Mistaken!" murmured Mary, shaking her head.

"I don't trust him.
And--less than ever because of yesterday.

Would an honest man have done what he did?
Let that police inspector talk freely, as he did, with people concealed behind a curtain?
And--he laughed about it! I hated myself for being there--yet could we help it ?" "I'm not going to hate myself on Pemberton Bryce's account," said Ransford.

"Let him play his game--that he has one, I'm certain." Bryce had gone away to continue his game--or another line of it.

The Collishaw matter had not made him forget the Richard Jenkins tomb, and now, after leaving Ransford's house, he crossed the Close to Paradise with the object of doing a little more investigation.