"I am not. You are lying as usual." "Don't insult me too much, Hench. You seem to forget that I am top-dog." "So far you certainly are. Top-puppy, I should say. Sit down and let us get to business." Spruce still stood by the door in what he considered was a haughty attitude, and frowned impressively. "I don't see what Vane has to do with any business between you and myself," he said sharply. "Vane is my friend, and I have asked him here to deal with the matter about which you spoke last night." "You seem ready to take the whole world into your confidence," said Spruce insolently, dusting a chair with his handkerchief before taking a seat. "If you act in that way I can't protect you." "Wait till you're asked," said Vane tartly. "Good Lord, the idea of your protecting any one; unless," he added significantly, "it is Madame Alpenny." "What do you mean by that?" asked the Nut, visibly discomposed. "Oh, I think you know quite well what I mean, Spruce. You accuse Hench here of murdering his uncle?" "Yes, I do. And I'll tell the police as much if he doesn't pay my price. The police would give a good deal to find the tramp who asked the way to the Gipsy Stile on the night of the first of July." "How can you prove that Hench is the tramp?" "By his own admission." "And if he does not make that admission in open court?" "Then I'll leave it to the barmaid at the Bull Inn. She cannot describe our friend's appearance very well, as she is stupid and the tap-room was badly lighted when she saw him. But she declares that she would know his voice. Mr. Owain Hench would then have to prove what he was doing on the night in question, and I don't think that would be easy." "It certainly would not be easy," said Hench coolly. "I have admitted that you can make out a very good case for the prosecution. All the same you are perfectly aware that I am innocent." "What makes you say that?" asked Spruce quickly and--as Vane thought--in a somewhat anxious manner. "Because I think you know who is the guilty person." "Do I? That remains to be seen." "Spruce," said Vane in a menacing manner, "you are playing a very dangerous game, and let alone the fact that you are trying to blackmail Hench, you run the risk of condoning a felony." "Ah!" said the Nut quickly. "Then you suggest that our friend is guilty?" "Nothing of the sort. I suggest that you pretend to believe him guilty to get this money. But you know perfectly well that he is not." "Do you mean to insinuate that I know who murdered the Squire?" asked Spruce, with a fine show of indignation. "Certainly I do," retorted Vane smartly. "Don't put on frills. In my opinion Madame Alpenny, who knew all about the advertisement and the property, is the guilty person. But, as she isn't worth powder and shot, you are trying to fasten the crime on to Hench's shoulders." "And I can, Mr. James Vane, as you and he shall find."