And then, as young Chandler stepped through into the sitting-room,
it suddenly struck Bunting that the young man looked unlike himself
--indeed, to the ex-butler's apprehension there was something almost
threatening in Chandler's attitude.

"I want a word with you, Mr. Bunting," he began abruptly, falteringly.
"And I'm glad to have the chance now that Mrs. Bunting and Miss Daisy
are out."

Bunting braced himself to hear the awful words--the accusation of
having sheltered a murderer, the monster whom all the world was
seeking, under his roof. And then he remembered a phrase, a
horrible legal phrase--"Accessory after the fact." Yes, he had
been that, there wasn't any doubt about it!

"Yes?" he said. "What is it, Joe?" and then the unfortunate man
sat down in his chair. "Yes?" he said again uncertainly; for young
Chandler had now advanced to the table, he was looking at Bunting
fixedly--the other thought threateningly. "Well, out with it,
Joe! Don't keep me in suspense."

And then a slight smile broke over the young man's face. "I don't
think what I've got to say can take you by surprise, Mr. Bunting."

And Bunting wagged his head in a way that might mean anything--yes
or no, as the case might be.

The two men looked at one another for what seemed a very, very long
time to the elder of them. And then, making a great effort, Joe