“But still,” said Kemp, “in England ⁠—today. And the man was in his own house, and you were⁠—well, robbing.”

“Robbing! Confound it! You’ll call me a thief next! Surely, Kemp, you’re not fool enough to dance on the old strings. Can’t you see my position?”

“And his too,” said Kemp.

The invisible man stood up sharply. “What do you mean to say?”

Kemp’s face grew a trifle hard. He was about to speak and checked himself. “I suppose, after all,” he said with a sudden change of manner, “the thing had to be done. You were in a fix. But still⁠—”

“Of course I was in a fix⁠—an infernal fix. And he made me wild too⁠—hunting me about the house, fooling about with his revolver, locking and unlocking doors. He was simply exasperating. You don’t blame me, do you? You don’t blame me?”