“I arrived at Brookdale two days ago,” he said. “I was to stay two weeks. Blair told me to stay as long as I wished. There are several people staying there. I thought they were friends of Blair’s; but I found out—”
He paused. Henry Windsor’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to be half asleep. Jarnow reached across the table, and shook the man impatiently.
“Stop it!” exclaimed Windsor, starting to rise from the table in sudden anger. Jarnow pushed him back into the chair.
“You’ll be sorry for this!” cried Henry Windsor, indignantly. “Don’t try that again. You’ll be mighty sorry for it.”
“Listen to me,” said Jarnow. His voice carried a command. “I suspected something the first day that I was at Brookdale. I investigated on the second day. This morning I discovered the truth. I found this here—”
He drew a small sheet of paper from his pocket and spread it before Henry Windsor’s eyes.
“Can’t read it without my glasses,” said the other man. “Read it to me, Frank. What does it say?”
“It says,” replied Jarnow, “that Blair Windsor—”
His lips became rigid. He was staring over Henry Windsor’s head, toward the door beyond.
“What does it say?” questioned Henry Windsor.