“Now, guardian,” he said, quietly, “you’ve got to tell us the truth.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MYERST EXPLAINS

It had been apparent to Spargo, from the moment of his entering the cottage, that the two old men were suffering badly from shock and fright:  Cardlestone still sat in his corner shivering and trembling; he looked incapable of explaining anything; Elphick was scarcely more fitted to speak.  And when Breton issued his peremptory invitation to his guardian to tell the truth, Spargo intervened.

“Far better leave him alone, Breton,” he said in a low voice.  “Don’t you see the old chap’s done up?  They’re both done up.  We don’t know what they’ve gone through with this fellow before we came, and it’s certain they’ve had no sleep.  Leave it all till later—­after all, we’ve found them and we’ve found him.”  He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Myerst’s direction, and Breton involuntarily followed the movement.  He caught the prisoner’s eye, and Myerst laughed.

“I daresay you two young men think yourselves very clever,” he said sneeringly.  “Don’t you, now?”

“We’ve been clever enough to catch you, anyway,” retorted Breton.  “And now we’ve got you we’ll keep you till the police can relieve us of you.”

“Oh!” said Myerst, with another sneering laugh.  “And on what charge do you propose to hand me over to the police?  It strikes me you’ll have some difficulty in formulating one, Mr. Breton.”

“Well see about that later,” said Breton.  “You’ve extorted money by menaces from these gentlemen, at any rate.”

“Have I?  How do you know they didn’t entrust me with these cheques as their agent?” exclaimed Myerst.  “Answer me that!  Or, rather, let them answer if they dare.  Here you, Cardlestone, you Elphick—­didn’t you give me these cheques as your agent?  Speak up now, and quick!”

Spargo, watching the two old men, saw them both quiver at the sound of Myerst’s voice; Cardlestone indeed, began to whimper softly.

“Look here, Breton,” he said, whispering, “this scoundrel’s got some hold on these two old chaps—­they’re frightened to death of him.  Leave them alone:  it would be best for them if they could get some rest.  Hold your tongue, you!” he added aloud, turning to Myerst.  “When we want you to speak we’ll tell you.”

But Myerst laughed again.

“All very high and mighty, Mr. Spargo of the Watchman!” he sneered.  “You’re another of the cock-sure lot.  And you’re very clever, but not clever enough.  Now, look here!  Supposing—­”

Spargo turned his back on him.  He went over to old Cardlestone and felt his hands.  And he turned to Breton with a look of concern.

“I say!” he exclaimed.  “He’s more than frightened—­he’s ill!  What’s to be done?”

“I asked the police to bring a doctor along with them,” answered Breton.  “In the meantime, let’s put him to bed—­there are beds in that inner room.  We’ll get him to bed and give him something hot to drink—­that’s all I can think of for the present.”