Mr Arbor's aura radiated a sort of sputter, like a muffled wireless-key.
`We'll let that pass,' be observed, with an effort. `The absurdity of your suggestion is as evident as — ah your somewhat noticeable manners. That a man of my well-known standing. 'The aura sputtered again. Then Mr Arbor recovered himself. 'It would amuse some, of my associates in New York,' he said. `Ha, ha. Ha. Very amusing. But, as I think we agreed to begin with, perfectly legal.'
'Not if it concerned.a murder,' said Dr Fell.
There was an abrupt and rather terrible silence.
The doctor had spoken in a casual tone. In the stillness they could all hear the last rattle of coals falling in the grate, and, very faintly, the thin sudden note of a bugle from the parade-ground.
Arbor had been gathering his coat about him to rise, and his hand jerked on the lapel. `I–I beg your pardon?' he said.
`I said, "Not if it concerned a murder,"' Dr Fell repeated in a louder voice. `Don't get up, Mr Arbor. Were going to talk about the murder now. That doesn't surprise you, does it?' His half-closed eyes opened wide. `Don't you know who was murdered, Mr Arbor?' he pursued.
`I–I heard them talking over there,' the other answered, regarding his interrogator fixedly.;'I think I heard somebody say his name was Drakell or Driscoll or something of the sort.'
`The name was Driscoll, Philip Driscoll. He was Sir William Bitton's nephew.'
Whatever sort of effect Dr Fell had hoped to produce, there was no question about an effect. Arbor's swarthy face turned white; literally white, for mottled blotches stood out against; his pallor. The thin eyeglasses jerked on his nose, and he covered them with a shaking hand. Undoubtedly Arbor had a weak heart. The effect was as much physical as nervous.