Piers' lips tightened at his tone. He looked full and straight at the baffling glasses that hid the other man's contemptuous eyes.
"I've come for a reckoning with you," he said.
"Really?" said Tudor. He glanced again at the clock. "Rather an unusual hour, isn't it?"
Piers passed the question by. He was chafing on his feet like a caged animal. Abruptly he came to the point.
"I told you the other day that I wouldn't put up with any interference from you. I didn't know then how far your interference had gone. I do know now. This scheme to get me out of the country was of your contrivance."
Fiercely he flung the words. He was quivering with passionate indignation. But the effect on Tudor was scarcely perceptible. He only looked a little colder, a little more satirical, than was his wont.
"Well?" he said. "What of it?"
Piers showed his teeth momentarily. His hands were hard gripped behind him, as though he restrained himself by main force from open violence.
"You don't deny it?" he said.
"Why should I?" Tudor's thin lips displayed a faint sneer. "I certainly advised your grandfather to go away, and I think the advice was sound."