"Yes."
Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder like a vise.
"Then, by God, you shall tell me!" he said fiercely. "Don't you know, man, that Guy has been found in the Seine, robbed and drugged, and murdered without a doubt? Do you want me to wait whilst something of the same sort happens to her? You shall tell me where she is, Duncombe. I say that you shall tell me!"
Duncombe hesitated.
"You can do no more than I have done," he said.
"Then at least I will do as much," Andrew answered. "I am her oldest friend, and I have claims upon her which you never could have. Now that she is in this terrible trouble my place is by her side. I——"
"One moment, Andrew," Duncombe interrupted. "Are you sure that it was Guy Poynton who was found in the Seine? The height was given as five feet nine, and Guy Poynton was over six feet."
"You should read the papers," Andrew answered shortly. "He was identified by his sister."
"The papers said so," Duncombe answered hesitatingly; "but——"
"Look here," Andrew interrupted, "I have had enough of this playing with facts. You have grown too complex about this business altogether, Duncombe. Give me Phyllis Poynton's address."