Mrs. Verschoyle turned to him with a smiling face.
"I am beaten. Yes."
He looked at her suspiciously.
"You mean it?"
"On condition that you stop the bloodhound."
"Agreed; and now let us go out."
"Where is Carmela?" she asked, as he held the door open.
"At Marlow with Sir Mark Trevor. Do you want to see her?"
"No; that is, not at present," she answered, going down the stairs. "Where does the bloodhound live?"
"Why do you want to know?" he asked, sharply.