He certainly wouldn't like anything to happen to him.
"You mean to say," he said sharply, "that Collins went out last night to
fetch my papers from the station and was fool enough to take the short
cut across the Fens?"
"I warned him against doin' so," said Borkins, "since 'e said 'e'd
probably go that way. That no Frozen Flames was a-goin' ter frighten 'im,
an'--an' 'is language was most offensive. But I've no doubt 'e went."
"Then why the devil didn't you tell me last night?" exclaimed Merriton
angrily, jumping out of bed. "You knew the--the truth about Mr. Wynne's
disappearance, and yet you deliberately let that man go out to his death.
If anything's happened to James Collins, Borkins, I'll--I'll wring your
damned neck. Understand?"
Borkins went a shade or two paler, and took a step backward.
"Sir Nigel, sir--I--"
"When did Collins go?"
"'Arf past eight, sir!" Borkins' voice trembled a little. "And believe
me or not, sir, I did my best to persuade Collins from doin' such an
extremely dangerous thing.
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