He was evidently thinking deeply, and Bryce made no attempt to disturb him.

Some minutes went by before Folliot took the cigar from his lips and leaning against the chimneypiece looked fixedly at his visitor.
"Look here, my lad!" he said, earnestly.

"You're no doubt, as you say, a good hand at finding things out, and you've doubtless done a good bit of ferreting, and done it well enough in your own opinion.

But there's one thing you can't find out, and the police can't find out either, and that's the precise truth about Braden's death.

I'd no hand in it--it couldn't be fastened on to me, anyhow." Bryce looked up and interjected one word.
"Collishaw ?" "Nor that, neither," answered Folliot, hastily.