'
'What if I am?' the man grumbled.
'In five minutes you'll be in the hands of the police. I got wind
yesterday of what your rascally agency was up to. You needn't deny
anything. You're working on behalf of Mr. Ravengar. You know me! Mr.
Ravengar happens to be a client of mine, but after to-night he will be
so no longer. What he wants done in this flat I cannot guess, but it's
an absolute certainty that you're in for three years' penal, my friend.'
'Let me pass,' the man repeated, lifting his jaw, 'or I'll blow your
brains out!'
He produced his revolver.
'Oh no, you won't,' said Polycarp coldly. 'You daren't. You aren't on
the stage, and you aren't in Texas. And you aren't a bold Bret Harte
villain. You're simply the creature of a private inquiry agency, as it's
called, the most miserable of trades! Usually you spend your time in
manufacturing divorces, but just now you're doing something more
dangerous even than that, something that needed more pluck than you've
got. I should advise you to come with me quietly.'
Polycarp was in evening dress, and carried a pair of white gloves. Hugo
decidedly admired the old dandy as he stood there gazing up so
condescendingly at the man with the candle.
'Look here!' said the man with the candle.
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