“You are glad to see me?” he asked.
She came slowly forward. The man rose from his place and came towards her with outstretched hands. Then through the door came John Dory, and one caught a glimpse of others behind him.
“If my wife is not glad to see you, Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald,” he aid, in a tone from which he vainly tried to keep the note of triumph, “I can assure you that I am. You slipped away from me cleverly at Daisy Villa, but this time I think you will not find it so easy.”
Maud shrank back, and her husband took her place. But Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald looked upon them both as one who looks upon figures in a dream. Miss Brown rose hurriedly from her seat. She came over to him and thrust her arm through his.
“Peter,” she said, taking his hand in hers, “don’t shoot. It isn’t worth while. You should have listened to me.”
The little man in the gold-rimmed spectacles looked at her, looked at Mr. John Dory, looked at the woman who was shrinking back now against the wall.
“Really,” he said, “this is the most extraordinary situation in which I ever found myself!”
“We will help you to realise it,” John Dory cried, and the triumph in his tone had swelled into a deeper note. “I came here to arrest Mr. Fitzgerald, but I hear this young lady call you ‘Peter.’ Perhaps this may be the solution—”
The little man struck the table with the flat of his hand.
“Come,” he said, “this is getting a bit too thick. First of all—you,” he said, turning to Miss Brown—“my name is not Peter, and I have no idea of shooting anybody. As for that lady against the wall, I don’t know her—never saw her before in my life. As for you,” he added, turning to John Dory, “you talk about arresting me—what for?”