“He remained shut up with Fred for nearly two hours and then I heard Fred letting him out of the front door.  Fred came in to me, and I soon got the strength of it all from him.  What do you think Hill had come for?  To get Fred to burgle Sir Horace’s house!  And Fred had agreed to do it.  I cried and I stormed and went into hysterics, but he wouldn’t budge—­you know how obstinate he can be when he likes.  He said that Hill had told him there was a good haul to be picked up.  Sir Horace was going to Scotland for the shooting, and the servants were to be sent to his country house, so the coast would be clear.  Hill was to leave everything right at Riversbrook on the afternoon of the 18th of August, and he was to come across to the flat and let Fred know.

“Hill came, as he promised, but as soon as he came in I could see that something had happened.  The first words he said were that Sir Horace had returned unexpectedly from Scotland.  I was glad to hear it, for I thought that meant that there would be no burglary.  I said as much to Fred, and he would have agreed with me, but that devil Hill was too full of cunning.  ‘Of course, if you’re frightened, we’d better call it off,’ he said.  Fred had been drinking during the day, and you know what he’s like when he’s had a little too much.  ‘I was never frightened of any job yet,’ he said, ‘and I’d do this job to-night if the house was full of rozzers,’ Hill pretended that he wasn’t particular whether the thing came off or not that night, but all the while he kept egging Fred on to do it.  Oh, I can see now what his game was.  In spite of all I could do or say, it was arranged that Fred should go over, and see if it was quite safe to carry out the job.  Hill said he thought Sir Horace was going out that night, and wouldn’t be home until the early morning.  About 9 o’clock Fred went off, leaving Hill and me alone in the flat together.  How I wish now that I had killed him when I had such a good chance.

“We sat there scarcely speaking, and heard the clock strike the hours.  After midnight I began to get restless, for I thought something must have happened to Fred. Hill said in a low voice:  ‘It’s time Fred was back.’  The words were scarcely out of his mouth when I heard Fred’s step outside, and I ran to let him in.  He came in as white as a sheet.  ‘Fred,’ I cried as soon as I saw him, ‘there’s some blood on your face.’

“He didn’t answer a word until he had taken a big drink of whisky out of the decanter.  Then he said in a whisper:  ’Sir Horace Fewbanks has been murdered!’ ‘Murdered!’ cried Hill, leaping up from his chair—­he can act well, I can tell you—­’My God, Fred, you don’t mean it!’ ’He’s dead, I tell you,’ replied Fred fiercely.  I thought, and at the time I suppose Hill thought, that Fred had shot him either accidentally or in order to escape capture.  He seemed to guess what we were thinking, for he swore that he had had nothing to do with it—­Sir Horace was dead on the floor when he got there.