Mr. Steell nodded approval.
"I know something about that," said the lawyer. "A crook is never really clever. He always leaves some loophole which leads to detection. He thinks he is secure, that his disguise is impenetrable, but there is always someone watching him, closely observing his every move. And, the first thing he knows, he has walked into a trap, the handcuffs are snapped, and the electric chair looms grimly before him——"
Crash!
All looked up to the end of the table, where their host had broken a glass. In the act of raising the champagne to his lips the glass had slipped and broken into a thousand pieces. Helen, frightened, started from her seat.
"Are you hurt, dear?" she asked. "There is blood on your hand."
"No—no, it's nothing. I cut myself with a bit of glass. It's nothing."
Ray was eager for more anecdotes.
"Do tell us more, Kenneth," she exclaimed, interrupting her chat with her left-hand neighbor.
"Give him a breathing spell," laughed Dick. "We've kept him at it ever since the dinner began."
Handsome, his face pale, his hand trembling, filled another glass with the foaming golden wine, and drained it at a draught. What the lawyer just said had been somewhat of a shock. Was there more meaning in it than appeared in the chance words? He eyed Steell narrowly, when he was not looking, but the lawyer's face was inscrutable. Again he filled his glass and again emptied it.