“Home,” said the other laconically. “Where else should she go?”
“She came to dinner . . . intending to stay the night?”
“Look here, Gonsalez,” interrupted Monty Newton savagely. “You and your gang were wonderful people twenty years ago, but a lot has happened since then—and we don’t shiver at the name of the Three Just Men. I’m not a child—do you get that? And you’re not so very terrible at close range. If you want to complain to the police——”
“Meadows is outside. I persuaded him to let me see you first,” said Leon, and Newton started.
“Outside?” incredulously.
In two strides he was at the window and had pulled aside the blind. On the other side of the street a man was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, intently surveying the gutter. He knew him at once.
“Well, bring him in,” he said.
“Where has this young lady gone? That is all I want to know.”
“She has gone home, I tell you.”
Leon went to the door and beckoned Meadows; they spoke together in low tones, and then Meadows entered the room and was greeted with a stiff nod from the owner of the house.