Pamela stood at the head of the table, between the two men, and laughed. Her brother had sunk into a chair, and his head had dropped moodily upon his folded arms. She looked from one to the other and a new sense of strength inspired her. She felt that if she were not indeed entirely mistress of the situation, yet the elements of triumph were there to her hand.
"This is living, at any rate," she declared. "First of all I discover that your Japanese servant is a spy—"
"Nikasti!" Van Teyl interrupted furiously. "Blast him! I knew that there was something wrong about that fellow, Fischer."
Fischer frowned.
"What's he been up to?" he inquired.
"Well, to begin with," Pamela explained, "he searched my room, then he locked me in here, and was proceeding to threaten me when fortunately Mr. Lutchester arrived."
"Threaten you—what about?" Fischer demanded.
"He seemed to have an absurd idea," Pamela explained sweetly, "that I might have somewhere concealed upon my person the formula which was stolen from Captain Graham last Monday week at Henry's Restaurant. It makes quite a small world of it, doesn't it?"
"I will deal with Nikasti for this," Fischer promised, "if it is true.
Meanwhile?"
"No sooner have I got over that little shock," Pamela went on, "than you turn up with this melodramatic story, and an offer from Mr. Fischer, which I can read in his face. Really, I feel that I shall hear the buzz of a cinema machine in a moment. How much do you owe him, Jimmy?"