“I don’t know what you mean,” he said loudly.
“You arranged with Lisa to pick up Barberton to-night and get him talking. And there she is, poor girl, all dressed to kill, and only a dead man to vamp—only a murdered man.” He turned suddenly, and his voice grew hard. “That is a good word, isn’t it, Newton—murder?”
“I didn’t know anything about it.”
As Newton’s hand came towards the bell:
“We can show ourselves out,” said Leon.
He shut the door behind him, and presently there was a slam of the outer door. Monty got to the window too late to see his unwelcome guests depart, and went up to his room to change, more than a little perturbed in mind.
The footman called him from the hall.
“I’m sorry about that affair, sir. I thought it was a ‘busy’ . . .”
“You think too much, Fred”—Newton threw the words down at his servitor with a snarl. “Go back to your place, which is the servants’ hall. I’ll ring you if I want you.”
He resumed his progress up the stairs and the man turned sullenly away.