"Plenty. Fill up that glass again."
"Ah! Fine country, the States! Did Eh tell 'ee, zir, Eh've a wife's cousin's step-brother that lives in Kansas City? — Ah, ay!" He nodded approvingly. "Lived there fatty year’ now, 'e 'as. Gearge Loopey 'is name is. Maybe you've 'eard of him, zir; Gearge E. Loopey? 'E do run a big lumber yaard, I’ve 'eard. No! Ah, well; 'tes a big place… Your good 'ealth, zir!"
Never before had Hugh appreciated so thoroughly the restraint of the English people. Everybody in that house was exploding with curiosity as to what had been happening at The Grange; it must have been the chief topic of conversation all evening; and here was the chief actor — supposed to have been already under arrest — in their midst. Yet conversation, even though strained, went on as usual. Not a glance was obviously turned towards Spinelli. The landlord pattered on.
"The’ll be staying with us some time, now, I hope, Mr. Travers?" "No," said Spinelli. I’m leaving tonight." "Ah?"
"Tonight. And damned glad to get away. Listen…"
He finished his third brandy with a swaggering gesture, and leaned against the bar. Whether it was the brandy, or some deliberate purpose, or merely a love of being in the limelight — for, as he spoke, a rustling quiet settled down, and his voice rang loud against it — Hugh never knew. But Spinelli was aware that he was talking to the house. And three double-brandies, on top of his nervous strain, did things to his tongue. He cleared his throat. His spiteful little eyes rolled round at the assembly with some satisfaction, but he turned back to the landlord.
"Come on, admit it! Don't stand there lapping up that beer and trying to be polite. I know what you're thinking about. The murder. Yeah. And wondering, in your charitable way, why they haven't got me in the can for it right now. Eh?"
The landlord tried to play his part by also seeming unconscious of all the others. He assumed a look of diffidence.
"Well, zir, now that you do mention it —! Of carse, us've 'eard all about it, and what a 'orrible business he was," he polished the bar vigorously, "and, ah, ah, we do feel sorry for the poor genlman…"
"Push that bottle over here. Horrible business, nuts! They tried to hook me in on it. And couldn't. Tell that to your friends. Because I didn't happen to have anything to do with it, and I proved it."