“Anything else?”
“It has also been rumoured,” Sir Richard continued, “that he was seen to enter my house that day, and that he remained there until late in the afternoon.”
“Did he?” asked Ruff.
“Certainly not,” Sir Richard answered.
Peter Ruff yawned for a moment, but covered the indiscretion with his hand.
“Respecting this inconvenience,” he said, “which you admit that the disappearance of Job Masters has caused you, what is its tangible side?”
Sir Richard drew his chair a little nearer to the table where Ruff was sitting. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“It seems absurd,” he said, “and yet, what I tell you is the truth. I have been followed about—shadowed, in fact—for several days. Men, even in my own social circle, seem to hold aloof from me. It is as though,” he continued slowly, “people were beginning to suspect me of being connected in some way with the man’s disappearance.”
Ruff, who had been making figures with a pencil on the edge of his blotting paper, suddenly turned round. His eyes flashed with a new light as they became fixed upon his companion’s.
“And are you not?” he asked, calmly. Sir Richard bore himself well. For a moment he had shrunk back. Then he half rose to his feet.