“Where on earth have you been to?” he demanded.
“Been to?” Quest repeated.
“Look in the mirror!” French suggested.
Quest glanced at himself. His collar had given way, his tie was torn, a button and some of the cloth had been wrenched from his coat, his trousers were torn, he was covered with dust.
“I’ll tell you about my trouble a little later on,” he replied. “Say, can’t we keep those girls out?”
They were too late. Laura and Lenora were already upon the threshold. Quest swung round towards them.
“Girls,” he said, “there has been some trouble here. Go and wait upstairs, Lenora, or sit in the hall. Laura, you had better telephone to the police station, and for a doctor. That’s right, isn’t it, Inspector?”
“Yes!” the latter assented thoughtfully.
Lenora, white to the lips, staggered a few feet back into the hall. Laura set her teeth and lingered.
“Is that Ross?” she asked.