"I suppose it has occurred to you to reflect on whose grace we have depended for our electric supply," I said mildly.
"I know that it comes from the engine-room, if that's what you mean," he replied bluntly.
"And now it's cut off," I said.
There was a pause, and it was the lady who broke it.
"What is it that you mean, doctor?"
I addressed her. "The mutineers cut off the light preparatory to an attack."
"You are the most wonderful sleuth-hound, Dr. Phillimore," said Barraclough with a hard laugh; "your talents are quite thrown away."
"I regret to say they are here," I answered sharply. "And where would he be if he had paid some attention to the patent detective? I tell you again, Sir John Barraclough, that we've got to expect an attack to-night, and that's why the light is gone."
A man may endure hostility and defeat; he may suffer shame and injustice; he may undergo pangs of jealousy and remorse. All these things are dispiriting or humiliating, but I declare that I would willingly experience them all if I might save myself from the supreme dishonour of appearing in a ridiculous rôle. I had spoken strongly because I felt warmly, and there was a note of dictatorial assurance in my voice which might have convinced, or at least silenced, Barraclough. But I had left the keys down, and to my shocking discomfiture as I finished my declamation the saloon was at a stroke flooded with light.
The radiance discovered to me Mademoiselle's piquante face, her eyes smiling, her lips full and pouting, and close beside her Barraclough's fair Saxon jowl. He grinned at me, but said nothing, for which perhaps I should have been grateful. But I was not.