Without answering, Copplestone languidly produced an elaborately jeweled gold cigarette-case, and handed it to the inspector.
There were two cigarettes in it.
Inspector Fay took one, with a perfectly impassive countenance, and returned the case. Copplestone replaced it in his pocket.
"Please give whatever instructions you like to my man," he said dully—"and let me know if you want me. I shall be in my room."
He turned, and moved away with slow heavy steps, disappearing between the same curtains through which, a few hours before, he had presented Christine Manderson to his guests.
The inspector stood looking after him, fingering the cigarette thoughtfully, a very curious expression on his face. He showed no further signs of fatigue.
"I wonder why you lied to me," he muttered—and laid the cigarette on the table.
He glanced down the list of names, and went to the door. The constable had mounted guard over his prisoners with extraordinary dignity. The voice of the danseuse was still raised in lamentation.
"Monsieur Dupont," the inspector called.
The constable passed on the summons—and Monsieur Dupont instantly obeyed it.