She spoke as an actress might speak about a fellow member of the cast—without anger, fairly. Gordon stopped strumming funeral marches on the kitchen table and became alive to the realities.
“But is Dan coming here?” he asked. “Disguised as me! Is—is that the game? What a blind idiot I was! And you, of course, were the decoy ... and all that soul stuff, as you call it, was——?”
“Bunk,” she said. “It would have been bunk anyway if I’d meant it. That kind of talk is never anything else.”
He was still helplessly puzzled.
“But ... why did you come here?”
“Because I want my money back—the money I advanced to my little friend. And he just wouldn’t split with me. Said he hadn’t got Mendlesohn’s cheque—can’t you see Dan taking cheques? Said he was short of money—that fellow has got Ananias down for the count. Yes, sir. Why, he was so stuffed with bills you couldn’t touch him without he crackled! He had so much money he had to carry it under his arm! When I told him I wouldn’t go on till he’d settled the old account, he told me to go to blue blazes. Or some place. Said I’d no right to pay the girl, and that he’d finish the job without me. But he won’t!”
Gordon glowered down on her.
“Why do you tell me this? Don’t you realise that you’ve placed yourself in my hands?” he asked. “I have only to ’phone the police and you’re finished!”
She was not perturbed.
“Man, you’ve got a head like a haunted house! Forget it—Uncle Isaac!”