THEY REMAINED LONG staring at each other, without exchanging a word, dumbfounded, stupefied. The air was torn by the horn of a motor-car. A breath of wind rustled through the leaves. And Shears did not stir, his fingers still fixed in Wilson's throat, which continued to emit an ever fainter rattle.
And, suddenly, Shears, overcome with rage, let go his friend, but only to seize him by the shoulders and shake him frantically:
"What are you doing here? Answer me!... What are you here for?... Who told you to hide in the shrubbery and watch me?"
"Watch you?" groaned Wilson. "But I didn't know it was you."
"Then what? Why are you here? I told you to go to bed."
"I did go to bed."
"I told you to go to sleep."
"I did."
"You had no business to wake up."
"Your letter... ."
"What letter?"
