‘And you’re a more wonderful fellow; you’re so devilish cool,’ said Merlin. ‘I _do_ know a thing or two, and, upon my soul, I have need―_par exemple_, old fellow―it was devilish good-natured of you to come out all the way with us, but it has just occurred to me that you seem to have seen these poor fellows so _very_ lately, just before they were rubbed out, that, quite as a matter of form, I must trouble you to explain your proceedings on that day to the authorities. Lionel Greffham!’ continued he, in a voice which, raised and vibrating, was so utterly changed that Ernest Neuchamp did not know it as that of this smiling satirist with his society talk and ready rapier of repartee, ‘I arrest you on suspicion of murder and robbery.’ Perhaps the least astonished and agitated individual of the company was the accused himself. He swung round on one heel as Merlin laid a sinewy grasp upon his shoulder, and, drawing a small foreign-looking revolver from his breast, aimed fair at the heart of his quondam companion. At the same moment he was covered by the weapons of Markham, the troopers, and of Mr. Bright, who held straight for his former acquaintance with unmistakable aim and determination. ‘It’s no use, Mr. Greffham,’ said Markham, ‘I made your popgun safe at the inn last night. It would never have done to leave you the chance of giving us “Squirt Street.” It won’t pop if you pull the trigger for a week. Say you could drop Mr. Merlin, why we can “twice” you over and over.’ Mr. Merlin’s clear gray eyes glittered with unwonted excitement. He also held a revolver in his right hand. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ‘all excitement is bad form. You must be aware that you are only arrested on suspicion. Nothing may turn up to implicate you any more than Bright there, but in all these cases a man in my position has a duty to perform, and you know well I should do mine if you were my own brother, or the best friend I had in the world.’ By this time Greffham had recovered his usual composure. ‘I don’t doubt _that_ for one moment, Merlin,’ he said, with sardonic emphasis. ‘I think you have such a talent in that line that you would rather enjoy “running in” your own father. However, business is business. You’ve thrown down your card, and as you seem to hold all the trumps at present, you must have the odd trick.’ ‘Precisely, precisely,’ assented Mr. Merlin; ‘I always thought you a devilish sensible fellow. So now we must make a start for home. I am afraid that I must―just as a matter of form, you know―Markham.’ That wary official moved forward, and noticing, without seeing, as it were, that his superior officer still held his revolver ready for immediate use, produced a pair of handcuffs, and with the ease and quickness of long experience slipped them over the wrists of him who was doomed never to sleep unfettered more.