"Come, and you shall see."
I pushed past him into the room. As I looked round, in my amazement at the man's audacity, I was speechless. The whole place was in confusion. He had been turning my belongings topsy-turvy—searching drawers, examining cupboards, scrutinising everything of mine which he could lay his hands upon. My property was scattered everywhere—on chairs, on tables, on the floor. On the rail of the bed were laid my pyjamas and a towel; and on the bed itself was displayed, at its widest, the plum-coloured cloak.
When I realised that he had unearthed that piece of apparently damning evidence, it was enough.
"You hound!"
I would have taken him by the throat; but, springing back, he pointed a revolver at my face.
"Stop that! I've had to deal with men like you before, John Ferguson. Attempt to touch me, and I'll save the hangman his pains."
I, also, on previous occasions had had to deal with men like him; more dangerous men than he was, free from all the restraints of civilisation, whom use had made handy with a pistol. There was something in the way in which he gripped his weapon which told me that he was not yet acquainted with all its capabilities. I dodged;
