"How are you, Haskins?" said the Major, when his man had shut the door and they were alone together in the splendid room. "I have been expecting you."
"So I have been given to understand by your valet," replied Gerald coolly, and sat down to take out his pipe. "You don't object to my smoking, I presume?"
Rebb smiled grimly. "No," he rejoined deliberately, "you may need soothing before our conversation ends."
"Dear me, that sounds threatening. Are you going to murder me, or drop me into an oubliette. If so, I advise you to think twice about it. The police at Silbury know that I am here. I told a young constable in the High Street where I was going."
"I don't see why you should do that?" said Rebb sharply.
"I do," rejoined the young man calmly. "You are a dangerous man, Rebb, and you are being driven into a corner. However, if you think to silence me by violence, you will only get yourself into difficulties."
"You are afraid," taunted the Major sneeringly.
"Oh, not at all," retorted Haskins, although his fair face flushed a trifle; "there is no question of that. The mere fact that I come here alone is enough to prove that I do not fear you." He lighted his pipe carefully and looked along the stem at his host. "Fire away."
Rebb sat down in a comfortable chair with his back to the window, probably so that Haskins should not read his face too easily. He was neatly dressed in a maroon-colored smoking-suit, and looked as spic and span as though he had just stepped out of a band-box; but then Rebb, being something of a lady-killer, had always been attentive to his personal appearance. He suited the room very well, as he looked high-bred and bland, and dangerously amiable.
"What do you wish me to say?" he asked quietly.