Raphael Craig sat down on the Chesterfield sofa, but Richard and Teresa remained standing, Richard, for his part, determined that there should be no beating about the bush; and he had not the least intention of allowing the old man to put him in the wrong by asking difficult questions. So he began at once, fixing his eyes on a greenish-coloured newspaper that stuck out of Mr. Craig’s right-hand pocket.
‘Mr. Craig,’ he said, ‘let me cut a long story short. I came up here a few days ago to bring you a Williamson electric car. True, I was for the time being a genuine employe of the Williamson Company, but that was not my real business. I confess to you, Mr. Craig, that I am a private inquiry agent. It was in my professional capacity that I visited your House.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr. Craig. ‘You were, then, after all, a spy? I had guessed correctly.’
‘Spy?’ Richard repeated calmly. ‘Yes; it is an epithet that has been applied to me before.’ He glanced at Teresa, who met his glance fairly. ‘To continue,’ he said: ‘I have abandoned my inquiries. To be precise, I gave up my mission this morning; therefore, since I am here again, I am not here as a spy.’
‘What led you to abandon your mission, Mr. Inquiry Agent?’ asked Raphael, stroking his gray beard.
‘I gave it up, Mr. Craig,’ said Richard plumply, ‘out of regard for your daughter.’
‘Indeed!’ Raphael remarked, with the frostiest politeness. ‘So my daughter is fortunate enough to have won your regard?’
‘If you care to put it so.’
‘But,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘all this does not account for your presence here to-night, Mr. Inquiry Agent.’
‘I am here now——’ Richard began, and then stopped.