"Sit down," he said. "Now—"
Talbot told his story plainly and without trimmings, save that his hatred of Ronnie led him to digress from time to time.
"You saw; you are certain?"
"Absolutely, I ran down the stairs. There was a fellow taking photographs outside, a man with a brown beard—"
Moropulos! And the photograph was that of Beryl Merville!
"Go on."
"That is all. I felt it my duty to tell you. If Ronald Morelle attempts to browbeat me, I'll give him in charge—"
"All right—you can go. Thank you."
Jan Steppe had his own peculiar views on women in general, the relationship of Beryl with Ronnie Morelle in particular. Things of that kind happened. He had thought some such affair was possible, and was neither shocked nor outraged. Beryl did not love him, he knew: she loved Morelle. He grinned wickedly.
"The car, sir."