“I? Nothing. I went to get brandy, and when I came up he was gone, and there was a horrible old Frenchwoman here.”
“Old Laure, I suppose. I know her.”
“And she pretended not to understand my questions. So we bowed to each other, and separated. But what has become of the man I haven’t the least idea.”
Geoffrey looked round him apprehensively, and thrust his hand through his cousin’s arm.
“Look here,” said he, “I’ve had enough of this den. And so have you, I should think. You look awful, white as a sheet and with eyes like two holes burnt in a blanket. Come along and let’s have some luncheon and a bottle of champagne.”
Gerard freed himself.
“No,” said he. “I’ve got to stay here, where there’s something to be found out. I couldn’t go away, if I would, till Audrey comes back. You forget that. You needn’t stay unless you like.”
Geoffrey gave a grotesque and uneasy sigh.
“No. I must stand by you, now we’re in for it,” he said. “After all, I’m nearly as much interested in the business as you are, and if we’re really going to find out that this Candover was at the bottom of the forgery business——”
“Sh—sh,” said Gerard, who knew how very necessary it was to be cautious in such a shady neighbourhood.