"Out of the blue pocket-book, he says--in which case he must have committed the murder. Not for his own sake," added Mask quickly. "I fear the poor little wretch has been made a cat's-paw by the others." "Well," said Allen, drawing a long breath of astonishment, "wonders will never cease. I never thought Butsey was guilty." "I can't be sure yet if he is. But, at all events, he certainly knows who is the culprit, and, to save his own neck, he will confess." "But would the law hang a boy like that even if guilty?" "I don't think Butsey will give the law the chance of trying the experiment. He's a clever little reptile. But we had better return and examine him. Your mother----?" "She is with my poor father." "Is that quite safe?" asked Mask anxiously. "Perfectly. He is harmless." Mask looked sympathetic, although he privately thought that madness was the best thing which could have befallen Mr. Hill, seeing he had twice brought himself within the clutches of the law. At least there was now no danger of his being punished for theft or attempted murder, whatever might be said by those who had escaped with the diamonds; and certainly Mrs. Hill would be relieved of a very troublesome partner. Had Hill remained sane, she would not have lived with him after discovering how he had tricked her into marriage, and had traded on her deep gratitude all these years. Now, by tending him in his hopeless state, she was heaping coals of fire on his head, and proving herself to be, what Mask always knew she truly was, a good woman. So, in Allen's company, he returned to the room where Parkins was keeping watch over Master Train, and found that brilliant young gentleman smoking a cigarette. "Produced it from a silver case too," said the amused American. "This is a mighty smart boy. I guess you got rid of a lot of that money, bub?" "I cashed two notes," said Butsey coolly, "but the third trapped me. But I don't care. I've had a good time!" "And I expect you'll pass the rest of your life in gaol." "What's that?" said Butsey, not turning a hair; "in gaol?--not me. I've been in quod once and didn't like it. I ain't a-goin' again. No, sir, you give me some cash, Mr. Hill, and I'll go to the States." "They'll lynch you there, as sure as a gun," said Horace, grinning. Allen was quite taken aback by the coolness of the prisoner, for a prisoner Butsey virtually was. Mask leaned back nursing his foot, and did not take much part in the conversation. He listened to Allen examining the culprit, and only put a word in now and then. "You don't seem to realise your position," said Hill sharply. "Oh yuss, I does," said Butsey, calmly blowing a cloud of smoke, "you wants to get the truth out of me. Well, I'll tell it, if you'll let me go. I dessay our friend here"--he nodded to Mask--"can arrange with the peelers about that note." "It's probable I can," said Mask, tickled at the impudence of the boy; "but wouldn't you rather suffer for stealing, than for murder?"