"You thought you knew me," he interrupted. "And if you knew me who did you think I was? That's what I want to know." There was a note of menace in his tone, as if he felt that he had the best of the situation.
"I've told you I was mistaken," answered Hester sharply. "I don't care to talk about this any more. You'd better fix that pane of glass—if there is any pane to fix."
It was a chance shot, but it went home. "What do you mean by—by that?" stammered Anton.
"Oh, nothing."
He took a step nearer and she saw that he was white with anger. "You'd better not take that smarty tone with me, young lady. I've got something on you, all right. You weren't doing much sewing when I opened that door. Oh, I saw you! Some time before you saw me. Say, what was there so very partic'larly interesting about that golf bag?"
It was a critical moment for Hester and she rose to it finely.
"Ha, ha, ha!" she laughed carelessly, although terror was clutching her heart. "Do you want to know why I was looking in that golf bag, Mr. Anton?"
"Yes, I do," he answered roughly, "and I'm going to know right now."
He strode toward the golf bag and seized it by the strap.
"You'd make a good detective, Mr. Chauffeur," she tittered. "I dropped my scissors into that bag and I'll be much obliged if you'll fish them out for me."