He left the room, and they heard the furious ringing of the lift bell. Pamela was tearing into smaller pieces the forged transfer. Van Teyl, a little pale, but with new life in his frame, was watching the fragments upon the floor. There was a tap at the door. Nikasti entered. Pamela's fingers paused in their task. Van Teyl stared at him. The newcomer was carrying the evening papers, which he laid down upon the table.
"Is there anything more I can do before I go to bed, sir?" he asked, with his usual reverential little bow.
"Aren't you hurt?" Van Teyl exclaimed.
"Hurt?" Nikasti replied wonderingly. "Oh, no!"
"Weren't you knocked down by a taxicab," Pamela asked, "outside the hotel?"
Nikasti looked from one to the other with an air of gentle surprise.
"I have been to my rooms in the servants' quarters," he told them, "on the upper floor. I have not been downstairs at all. I have been unpacking and arranging my own humble belongings."
Van Teyl clasped his forehead.
"Let me get this!" he exclaimed. "You haven't been down in the lobby of the hotel, you haven't been knocked down by a taxicab that skidded, you haven't lost a pocketbook which you had previously stolen from my sister?"
Nikasti shook his head. He seemed completely mystified. He watched
Pamela's face carefully.