"Get it said, then!" retorted Pratt. "Not here," answered Parrawhite. "Come down by the quarry--nobody about there." "And suppose I don't?" asked Pratt. "Then you'll be very sorry for yourself--tomorrow," replied Parrawhite. "That's all!" Pratt had already realized that this fellow knew something. Parrawhite's manner was not only threatening but confident. He spoke as a man speaks who has got the whip hand. And so, still growling, and inwardly raging and anxious, he turned off with his companion into a track which lay amongst the stone quarries. It was a desolate, lonely place; no house was near; they were as much alone as if they had been in the middle of one of the great moors outside the town, the lights of which they could see in the valley below them. In the grey sky above, a waning moon gave them just sufficient light to see their immediate surroundings--a grass-covered track, no longer used, and the yawning mouths of the old quarries, no longer worked, the edges of which were thick with gorse and bramble. It was the very place for secret work, and Pratt was certain that secret work was at hand. "Now then!" he said, when they had walked well into the wilderness. "What is it? And no nonsense!" "You'll get no nonsense from me," sneered Parrawhite. "I'm not that sort. This is what I want to say. I was in Eldrick's office last night all the time you were there with old Bartle." This swift answer went straight through Pratt's defences. He was prepared to hear something unpleasant and disconcerting, but not that. And he voiced the first thought that occurred to him. "That's a lie!" he exclaimed. "There was nobody there!" "No lie," replied Parrawhite. "I was there. I was behind the curtain of that recess--you know. And since I know what you did, I don't mind telling you--we're in the same boat, my lad!--what I was going to do. You thought I'd gone--with the others. But I hadn't. I'd merely done what I've done several times without being found out--slipped in there--to wait until you'd gone. Why? Because friend Eldrick, as you know, is culpably careless about leaving loose cash in the unlocked drawer of his desk, culpably careless, too, about never counting it. And--a stray sovereign or half-sovereign is useful to a man who only gets two quid a week. Understand?" "So you're a thief?" said Pratt bitterly. "I'm precisely what you are--a thief!" retorted Parrawhite. "You stole John Mallathorpe's will last night. I heard everything, I tell you!--and saw everything. I heard the whole business--what the old man said--what you, later, said to Eldrick. I saw old Bartle die--I saw you take the will from his pocket, read it, and put it in your pocket. I know all!--except the terms of the will. But--I've a pretty good idea of what those terms are. Do you know why? Because I watched you set off to Normandale by the eight-twenty train tonight!" "Hang you for a dirty sneak!" growled Pratt.