“Oh, you know my name, do you, you scoundrel?” Deede Dawson said, a little surprised.

“Yes, sir,” Dunn answered.  “We always find out as much as we can about a crib before we get to work.”

“I see,” said Mr. Dawson.  “Very praiseworthy.  Attention to business and all that.  Pray, what did you find out about me?”

“Only as you was to be away tonight, sir,” answered Dunn.  “And that there didn’t seem to be any other man in the house, and, of course, how the house lay and the garden, and so.  But I didn’t know as you was coming home so soon.”

“No, I don’t suppose you did,” said Deede Dawson.

“I ain’t done no harm,” Dunn urged, making his voice as whining and pleading as he could.  “I’ve only just been looking round the two top floors—­I ain’t touched a thing.  Give a cove a chance, sir.”

“You’ve been looking round, have you?” said Deede Dawson slowly.  “Did you find anything to interest you?”

“I’ve only been in the bedrooms and the attics,” answered Dunn, changing not a muscle of his countenance and thinking boldness his safest course, for he knew well the slightest sign or hint of knowledge that he gave would mean his death.  “I’d only just come downstairs when you copped me, sir; I ain’t touched a thing in one of these rooms down here.”

“Haven’t you?” said Deede Dawson slowly, and his face was paler, his eyes more deadly, the muzzle of his pistol yet more inflexibly steady than before.

More clearly still did Dunn realize that the faintest breath of suspicion stirring in the other’s mind that he knew of what was hidden in the attic would mean certain death and just such another neat little hole bored through heart or brain as that he had seen showing in the forehead of his dead friend.

“Haven’t you, though?” Deede Dawson repeated.  “The bedrooms—­the attics—­that’s all?”

“Yes, sir, that’s all, take my oath that’s all,” Dunn repeated earnestly, as if he wished very much to impress on his captor that he had searched bedrooms and attics thoroughly, but not these downstairs rooms.

Deede Dawson was plainly puzzled, and for the first time a little doubt seemed to show in his hard grey eyes.

Dunn perceived that a need was on him to know for certain whether his dreadful secret had been discovered or not.

Until he had assured himself on that point Dunn felt comparatively safe, but he still knew also that to allow the faintest suspicion to dawn in Deede Dawson’s mind would mean for him instant death.

He saw, too, watching very warily and ready to take advantage of any momentary slip or forgetfulness, how steady was Deede Dawson’s hand, how firm and watchful his eyes.

With many men, with most men indeed, Dunn would have seized or made some opportunity to dash in and attack, taking the chance of being shot down first, since there are few indeed really skilled in the use of a revolver, the most tricky if the most deadly of weapons.