There was the old languid mockery in his voice, but his friend, looking at him closely, could see that the face had become a trifle thinner, that beneath the dirt that begrimed it there were haggard traces that betrayed worry and sleeplessness. Fairfield had thought much of Robert Grell lately, but he had never dreamed that the hunted man would come to him--come to him in broad daylight, without a word of warning. Did Grell know that he was in touch with the police? Had he come, a driven, desperate man, to fling reproaches at the friend who had joined in the hunt? That was unlikely. Grell, murderer or not, was not that type. He did nothing without a reason. He was, Fairfield reflected, a murderer--a murderer who had not dared stay to face the consequences of his deed. That surely severed all claims, whatever their old friendship might have been. "What do you want?" he asked, with a hard note in his voice. "Why have you come to me?" The man in the chair lifted his shoulders. "That is fairly obvious. I want you to do what, if our situations were reversed, I would do for you. I want money. If you can get me a few hundreds I shall be all right." A spasm contracted Fairfield's face for a second. He had not asked for explanations. Grell had volunteered none. It seemed as though he were taking for granted the assumption that he was guilty of the murder. Surely an innocent man would have been eager to assert his innocence at the first opportunity. When Sir Ralph answered, it was slowly, as though he were weighing each word that he spoke. "I would be willing enough to help a friend--you know that, Grell. But why you should think I would lift a finger to help you evade justice I fail to see. I know enough of the law to know that I should become an accessory to the fact." "You really think I killed that man?" The words came quick and sharp, like a pistol shot. "I thought you had known me long enough----" "Words," interrupted Fairfield bitterly. "All words. You were the last man I should have thought capable of such a thing; but all the facts are against you. Need I go over them? Let me tell you that if ever a jury knows what Scotland Yard knows and you stand in the dock, no earthly power can save you. If that crime is on your conscience it seems to rest lightly enough." Grell stood up and rested one hand lightly on the sleeve of his companion. "Fairfield, old chap," he said earnestly, "we have been through enough together to prove to you that I am not a coward. I swear on my honour that I had nothing to do with that man's death--though I have had reason enough to wish him dead, God knows. Do you think it is fear for myself that has driven me into hiding?"