The man rose up unsteadily, flinging down the pen as he did so.
"You'll suffer for this," he said between his teeth.
"Not unduly," said the colonel.
There was a tap at the door and the colonel swung round.
"Who's that?" he asked.
"Can I come in?" said a voice.
Crewe was frowning.
"Who is it?" asked the colonel.
The door opened slowly. A gloved hand, and then a white, hooded face, slipped through the narrow entry.
"Jack o' Judgment! Poor old Jack o' Judgment come to make a call," chuckled the hateful voice. "Down, dog; down!" He flourished the long-barrelled revolver theatrically, then turned with a chuckle of laughter to the gaping Mr. Crotin.