“You’re mad!” whispered the other, in the same uneasy fashion. “I’m not—I’m not—but I soon shall be!” muttered Cripps. “I tell you that Dandy Chater is dead—been dead for days; and yet he’s got the necklace, and is in that garden”—he pointed awfully behind him, as he spoke—“at the present moment. As sure as I’m a living sinner—Dandy Chater has come to life again!” CHAPTER XII WANTED—A DEAD MAN! For quite a long minute, Ogledon stared at the trembling Cripps—knitting his brows, and biting his lips at him—the while he turned this thing over in his mind. And the more he stared at Cripps, the more did that gentleman continue to babble of Dandy Chater dead, and Dandy Chater alive and with the diamond necklace. Presently, the strong common sense of the bigger man seemed to assert itself; he caught Cripps by the shoulder, and shook him again, and compelled his attention. “Now—listen to me, you chattering idiot!” he said. “Are you certain that you took Dandy Chater’s body from the river?” Dr. Cripps nodded vehemently. “Certain of it,” he replied. “Where?” “Just below Woolwich.” “Just as I thought,” muttered Ogledon to himself. Aloud, he said,—“You’ve been drinking, you little scoundrel, and the sight of a body has upset you. You’ve been drinking spirits—and seeing ’em afterwards. Now—listen to me again; it will be worth your while. This Dandy Chater, being dead, everything he possesses belongs to me; I am the next-of-kin. I’m going now straight to Chater Hall; you’ll have to go with me; and your business will be to hold your tongue, and follow all that I do, and take your cue from me. Dandy Chater come to life again!” he added, with a sneer, giving Cripps a final shake, and casting him roughly off. “You’re killing yourself with all the liquor you take, my friend.” After listening carefully for some little time, and hearing no disturbing sounds to break the silence all about them, he set off cautiously in the direction of the Hall, followed closely by Cripps. And, as he went along, he reviewed his position. “Now—I must not forget,” he muttered to himself—“that I have but just returned from a journey, and know nothing of what has happened in my absence. If they know of Dandy’s death, I must be properly horrified at the news; if he has merely disappeared, and they have heard nothing of him—(which I suspect will be the case)—I must be filled with surprise and alarm accordingly. In any case, I play the innocent, and take advantage of what I know, and of what turns up. And I must carry off everything with a bold face.”