“From your somewhat dishevelled appearance,” Bellamy continued, “I think I may conclude that you were not able to come to any amicable arrangement with Mademoiselle’s visitor. He declined to accept you as her proxy, I imagine. Still, one must make sure.”
He advanced quickly. Lassen shrank back in his chair.
“What do you mean?” he asked gruffly. “Keep him away from me, Henri. Ring the bell for your other man. This fellow will do me a mischief.”
“Not I,” Bellamy answered scornfully. “Stay where you are, Henri. To your other accomplishments I have no doubt you include that of valeting. Take off his coat.”
“But, Monsieur!” Henri protested.
“I’m d—d if he shall!” the man in the chair snarled.
Bellamy turned to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
“Look here,” he said, “I do not for one moment believe that Laverick handed over to you the document you were so anxious to obtain. On the other hand, I imagine that your somewhat battered appearance is the result of fruitless argument on your part with a view to inducing him to do so. Nevertheless, I can afford to run no risks. The coat first, please, Henri. It is necessary that I search it thoroughly.”
There was a brief hesitation. Bellamy’s hand went reluctantly into his pocket.
“I hate to seem melodramatic,” he declared, “and I never carry firearms, but I have a little life-preserver here which I have learned how to use pretty effectively. Come, you know, it isn’t a fair fight. You’ve had all you want, Lassen, and Henri there hasn’t the muscle of a chicken.”