“Dining out—rather an important dinner.”
“All the same, I’m afraid you’ll have to cut it out—for your own sake.”
“What do you mean?”
Anthony looked at him for a full minute before he said slowly:
“Do you know that they’ve found the revolver, the one Michael was shot with? Do you know where they found it? In your suit-case.”
“What?”
Isaacstein almost leapt from his chair. His face was frenzied.
“What are you saying? What do you mean?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Very obligingly, Anthony narrated the occurrences in connection with the finding of the revolver. As he spoke the other’s face assumed a greyish tinge of absolute terror.