Randall was looking at the heterogeneous collection, a slight frown between his eyes.
“The usual odds-and-ends drawer,” said Giles, beginning to put the things back.
Randall's eyes lifted. “As you say,” he agreed politely. “It is all very disheartening.”
The remaining drawers were equally barren of interest. Giles had just closed the last of them when a gentle knock fell on the door, and Henry Lupton looked deprecatingly into the room. “I hope I don't intrude?” he said. “The fact is, my wife would like to know—We only looked in, you see, just to inquire how things were going, and time presses, you know. So if we are not needed—?” He left the end of the sentence unfinished, and looked from Hannasyde to Giles, and back again.
Hannasyde replied:. “Will you come in, Mr Lupton? As a matter of fact, there are one or two questions I want to ask you.”
Henry Lupton, though he closed the door, did not advance farther into the room. He said hurriedly: “Oh, of course! I should be only too glad if there were anything I can answer, but really, you know, I'm as much in the dark as anyone. A most incomprehensible affair! I was only saying so to my wife last night. I was never so shocked in my life as when I heard of it.”
Randall took out his cigarette-case. “Don't overdo it,” he said, his smile remarkably like a sneer.
Hannasyde turned his head. “I don't think I need keep you any longer, Mr Matthews.”
“I rather fancy that you may discover a need for me,” returned Randall, flicking open his cigarette-lighter. “I may, of course, be wrong, but—no, I'm not wrong.”
The door had opened again, this time without any preliminary warning, and Mrs Lupton sailed into the room. “May I ask what is going on in here?” she said in tones of considerable displeasure. “You are perfectly well aware that I have a busy morning before me, Henry. I must say I should have thought you had time to have delivered my message twice over by now.” She bent her magisterial frown on Hannasyde. “Unless my presence is required I am now leaving,” she announced.