"I see. Half-past one. Why did you break up then?"
Maurice was watching him warily, like a duellist, but H. M. seemed uninterested. Maurice went on: "It was Mr. Rainger's wish. I thought it was my brother John returning then, and said so. I confess I was curious to see the effect of a meeting between Mr. Rainger and John, who did not know (I think you were told that?) of Mr. Rainger's presence. They had been having trouble, shall I say?"
"Well, say something. Your mean you thought it 'ud be good fun to see whether John took a swing at Rainger's jaw? What they call a Psychological Study? And Rainger wasn't having any, and made his excuses to get away. Why'd you let him go, then?"
Maurice rubbed his palms slowly together. His forehead was ruffled.
"I should have been most unwise, sir, to take the least chance of incurring Mr. Rainger's ill-will. It was therefore politic to accept as genuine his somewhat clumsy excuses, and let him go upstairs."
"You didn't go up to bed yourself, then?"
Maurice's smile glittered. "You jump at conclusions, I fear. I went to bed. But my room is on the ground floor."
"Now here's another thing that strikes me. This must be a very rummy family you got here, ain't it? You thought it was your brother returnin' at half-past one after a long stay in America; and yet you didn't even go out to say howdy-do-welcome-home to him?"
The other seemed puzzled. "I see nothing very strange, my dear sir, in all that. I am what is known as the head of the house. If my brother had anything to say to me, I am always happy to hear it; but I really cannot put myself out or be expected to bother my head over him. My habit has always been, Sir Henry," he lifted his eyes blandly, "to let people come to me. Hence I am respected. Ah — where was I? Oh, yes. I was aware that he knew where I was. Hence…"
"That's all I wanted to hear," said H. M., closing his eyes.