‘It must touch anybody,’ said I.
‘Ah, I suppose so,’ said Mouraki, flicking away his ash. ‘I questioned her a little about it this morning.’
‘You questioned her?’ For all I could do there was a quiver of anger in my voice. I heard it myself, and it did not escape my companion’s notice. His smile grew broader.
‘Precisely. I have to consider everything,’ said he. ‘I assure you, my dear Wheatley, that I did it in the most delicate manner possible.’
‘It couldn’t be done in a delicate manner.’
‘I struggled,’ said Mouraki, assuming his plaintive tone again, and spreading out deprecatory hands.
Was Mouraki merely amusing himself with a little ‘chaff,’ or had he a purpose? He seemed like a man who would have a purpose. I grew cool on the thought of it.
‘And did the lady answer your questions?’ I asked carelessly.
‘Wouldn’t it be a treachery in me to tell you what she said?’ countered Mouraki.