Gordon stepped back as if he had been struck.
“What do you mean?” he gasped. Yet he could not mistake the meaning of words and looks.
Bobbie’s attitude had undergone a remarkable change. The friendliness had gone from his tone, the light of fun from his face. He glared at the man before him; judgment and condemnation and doom was in his eyes.
“You are Double Dan!” he breathed. “By jinks! I was deceived! You’re clever, my man, diabolically clever. Carslake said you were, and like a fool I thought he was exaggerating. You are Double Dan! My brother has whiskers! Where are yours? I thought there was something strange about you when I saw you. And now that I come to think of it, that cock-and-bull story of yours about Aunt Lizzie is just the kind of story you would tell if you were detected—phew! Bravo, little Diana!”
Gordon went purple and red; he uttered strange, wild animal noises that had no meaning.
“I swear——”
Bobbie shook his head.
“It won’t do, my friend,” he said. “I see the whole plot. Of course, you and your accomplice pumped my unfortunate brother, who is on his way to Paris or some other unreachable place. You discovered that I knew he was going to Ostend, and you changed your plans. Gordon went to Paris as I feared——”
“Alone?”
Gordon was becoming an adept in self-control. Alone? That was a poser for Bobbie.