("Neat," approved the hidden T. B.)
"So Thursday will be the day," she mused.
"What day?" The banker's voice was sharp.
"The day you will see Carleby," she said, with a look of surprise.
"I said not Thursday on any account, but possibly the next day," said Sir George stiffly.
"She has the information she wants," said T. B. to himself, "and so have I," he reflected; "I will now retire."
He stepped carefully down, reached the floor, and was feeling his way to the door when a strange noise attracted his attention. It came, not from the next room, but from that in which he stood. He stood stock-still, holding his breath, and the noise he heard was repeated.
Somebody was in the room with him. Somebody was moving stealthily along the wall at the opposite side of the apartment. T. B. waited for a moment to locate his man, then leapt noiselessly in the direction of the sound. His strong hands grasped a man's shoulder; another instant and his fingers were at the spy's throat. "Utter a word and I'll knock your head off!" he hissed. No terrible threat when uttered facetiously, but T. B.'s words were the reverse of humorous. Retaining a hold of his prisoner, he waited until the noise of a door closing told him that the diners in the next room had departed, then he dragged his man to where he judged the electric-light switch would be. His fingers found the button, turned it, and the room was instantly flooded with light.
He released the man with a little push, and stood with his back to the door.
"Now, sir," said T. B. virtuously; "will you kindly explain what you mean by spying on me?"