stepped into the bushes. This man of yours was standing over him with a knife"
"I was, too, when they found me—I was cuttin' me a fishpole," said Hammond, sulkily. He was plainly beginning to be impressed and alarmed by the evidence against him. Gramont only nodded.
"No one saw the actual murder, then?"
"No need for it," said Chacherre, brazenly. "When we found him that way! Eh?"
"I suppose not," answered Gramont, his eyes fastened thoughtfully on Hammond. The latter caught the look, let his jaw fall in astonishment, then flushed and compressed his lips—and waited. Gramont glanced at Chacherre, and launched a chance shaft.
"You're Ben Chacherre, aren't you? Do you work for Mr. Fell?"
The chance shot scored. "Yes," said Chacherre, his eyes narrowing.
"What are you doing here, then?"
For an instant Chacherre was off guard. He did not know how much—or little—Gramont knew; but he did know that Gramont was aware who had taken the loot of the Midnight Masquer from the luggage compartment of the car. This knowledge, very naturally,
