“Do. Have a cigarette?”
“Let me see the brand before I accept,” said Manfred cautiously, and the man guffawed as at a great joke.
The visitor declined the offer of the cigarette-case and took one from a box on the table.
“And is Jane making the grand tour?” he asked blandly.
“Jane’s run down and wants a rest.”
“What’s the matter with Aylesbury?”
He saw the man flinch at the mention of the women’s convict establishment, but he recovered instantly.
“It is not far enough out, and I’m told that there are all sorts of queer people living round there. No, she’s going to Brussels and then on to Aix-la-Chapelle, then probably to Spa—I don’t suppose I shall see her again for a month or two.”
“She was at Heavytree Farm in the early hours of this morning,” said Manfred, “and so were you. You were seen and recognized by a friend of mine—Mr. Raymond Poiccart. You travelled from Heavytree Farm to Oberzohn’s house in a Ford trolley.”
Not by a flicker of an eyelid did Monty Newton betray his dismay.