"Then you have two sisters, Herr Bastable?" said Dormund very drily as he turned with a very meaning look. "It is a coincidence that the name of one of them should be Althea."
"'Tis odd, isn't it?" and forcing a smile, as though it was a coincidence and nothing more, I motioned him to a chair, sat down, and pushed the cigar-box across to him.
It should be his move first at any rate.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LUCK TURNS
My assumption of indifference appealed to what little sense of humour the German police routine training had allowed Dormund to retain, for he burst into a quite human laugh as he lighted a cigar. "Need we pretend any longer, Herr Bastable?" he asked.
"Not unless you like," I replied, as grave as a judge. "But what about?"
"The very charming young lady who has just left us."
"Bessie? My sister, I mean," I said, as if genuinely perplexed.
He waved his hand impatiently. "Ah, her name is von Ringheim. We know that."