Fancy was silent.
"Well, don't you think he ought to be—shown up a little?" He was on his third cup of saké, but his hand was as steady as ever.
Her lips parted, and her breath came suddenly for an exclamation, but the protest got no further than her eyes. She dropped them to the table-cloth, where she marked crosses with her little finger-nail. Dougal was making overt attempts to attract her attention and the diversion was maddening.
"What d'you mean?" she asked.
"If you were really a good enough friend of mine to help me out—"
"Oh, I'll help you out, Blan; what d'you want me to do?" she said quite eagerly, now. He did not notice her suppressed excitement.
"Well—I suppose you know a good deal about him?"
She nodded wisely.
"And some things, I suppose, might make considerable difference if they came out? You know what I mean."
"Do you want me to tell them?" she flung fiercely at him.