"About this murder at Exeter, which I was speaking of. It was a case of two solicitors who occupied offices together on Fore Street Hill."
Mr. Howitt glanced up at the stranger, then back again at the writhing newts. He rather gasped than spoke.
"Fore Street Hill?"
"Yes—they were partners. The name of one of them was Rolt—Andrew Rolt. By the way, I like to know with whom I am talking. May I inquire what your name is?"
This time Mr. Howitt was staring at the stranger with wide-open eyes, momentarily forgetful even of he creatures which were actually crawling beneath his chair. He stammered and he stuttered.
"My name's—Howitt You'll see it in the hotel register."
"Howitt?—I see—I'm glad I have met you, Mr. Howitt It seems that this man, Andrew Rolt, murdered his partner, a man named Douglas Colston."
Mr. Howitt was altogether oblivious of the things upon the floor. He clutched at the arms of his chair. His voice was shrill.
"Murdered! How do they know he murdered him?"
"It seems they have some shrewd ideas upon the point, from this."
The stranger took from an inner pocket of his overcoat what proved, when he had unfolded it, to be a double-crown poster. He held it up in front of Mr. Howitt It was headed in large letters, "MURDER! £100 REWARD."
