“It means,” said Ivan calmly, “that I’m a man of my word. I said I should come on the fifteenth, and here I am.” He turned to his men. “Put the rest just inside and wait within call.”
“Very good, sir.”
“But I’m in residence,” flashed Belinda.
“Yes, I’d gathered that,” said Pomeroy, hanging his hat on a peg. “So’m I.”
“D’you mind getting out?” said Belinda in a shaking voice. “Or am I to ring up the police?”
“You can ring up the Bastille, if you like. But don’t do the instrument in. I hate being without a telephone.”
Miss Seneschal stamped an extremely pretty foot.
“Will you get out of this house?”
“No,” said Ivan, “I won’t. For ten solid, soul-searing weeks I’ve let you have it, and this is where I get on. I admit my leg’s elastic, but you’ve rung the bell. It won’t stretch any more.”
“Ten weeks?” cried Belinda. “Why, I’ve only been here four days!”