“Yes! yes, and he had it,” said Fuller hastily. Then he raised his voice. “Are you talking about ciphers, Miss Grison? I am fond of solving them myself and indeed I am rather good at it.”
“Are you?” It was Mr. Sorley who replied and not the woman. “I think that I could puzzle you.”
“No, you couldn’t,” rejoined Alan deliberately boastful. “Set me any cryptogram and I am sure I can solve it. I go on the system of Poe.”
“What is that?”
Before he could answer Miss Grison rose, and shaking the crumbs from her dress walked to the door. There she halted, and turned to fix cold eyes on her astonished host, who had not expected so abrupt a move in the midst of an agreeable conversation.
“I have eaten and drunk in this house,” said Miss Grison sternly, “a thing I never believed that I could bring myself to do. Now I shall say what I came to say to you, Mr. Randolph Sorley, and shake the dust from my feet.”
“Hadn’t you better speak to me privately?” asked Sorley, rising with a wan smile and a white face.
“I think not. What I have to say can be heard by both these young people, who are aware of the opinion I have of you. You are a wicked and cruel and sinful man, worse than the worst of men, although all are bad now that my poor brother is dead.”
“Your brother Bald——”
“Don’t dare to take his name on your lips,” interrupted Miss Grison in a fierce way. “His death is due to you.”