"Why, thank you very much, sir," said Detective-Sergeant Mullins. He took the glass from Runnells. "Here's how, sir!" He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Good-night, gentlemen!"
"Good-night, sergeant," said the ex-captain of territorials.
"Good-night, sergeant," said the Frenchman.
Detective-Sergeant Mullins' footsteps died away in the hall.
Captain Francis Newcombe's dark eyes rested unemotionally upon the Frenchman.
The Frenchman leaned against the mantel and stared at the end of his cigarette.
The front door closed, and Runnells came back into the room.
"Now, Runnells," said Captain Francis Newcombe blandly, "bring us all a drink, and we will talk about—to-morrow night."