“They’ve gone to the Arts Ball.” Even through the handkerchief the voice sounded hoarse.
“The Arts Ball?” Gonsalez looked down at him, and then, throwing the hot shoe-horn into the fire-place, he removed the gag. “Why have they gone to the Arts Ball?”
“I wanted them out of the way to-night.”
“Is—Oberzohn likely to be at the Arts Ball?”
“Oberzohn!” The man’s laugh bordered on the hysterical.
“Or Gurther?”
This time Mr. Newton did not laugh.
“I don’t know who you mean,” he said.
“We’ll go into that later,” replied Leon lightly, pulling the knot of the handkerchief about the ankles. “You may get up now. What time do you expect them back?”
“I don’t know. I told Joan not to hurry, as I was meeting somebody here to-night.”