There was no encouragement in Aylmer's voice, and his eyes were hard and unrelenting.
"For a drink."
Aylmer shook his head.
"Suppose I hear your statement first," he suggested. "Then you can have a drink here, or elsewhere."
Landon rose to his feet with a dramatic jerk. He turned abruptly towards the door.
"That's enough, by God! that's enough!" he swore savagely. "I've taken your insolence once; I'll not take it again. I'm not fit to be offered a drink in your rooms; I'm to sit like some damned flunkey giving his character while you cross-examine me. I'll see you on the far side of Hell first."
He reached the door, halted, and stood with hand on it, looking round.
"You'll be sorry for this," he said. "I tell you that, when the truth of it comes to be known, as it'll be known some day, you'll be sorry for it."
Aylmer looked at him with a steady contemplation which showed no signs of clemency. Landon flung open the door and passed out.
"Cursed prig!" he snapped and descended the stairs into the street. Aylmer, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, turned towards his dressing-room.