“Then,” asked Sidney, “do you connect the presence of the Vicomte here with the absence of Vellacott?”
“There can be little question about it, directly or indirectly. Indirectly, I should think, unless the Vicomte d'Audierne is a scoundrel.”
Sidney thought deeply.
“He may be,” he admitted.
“I do not,” pursued Mr. Bodery, with a certain easy deliberation, “think that the Vicomte is aware of Vellacott's existence. That is my opinion.”
“He asked who you were—if you were a friend of my father's.”
“And you said—”
“No! I said that you were a friend of a friend, and mentioned Vellacott's name. He knew his father very well.”
“Were you”—asked Mr. Bodery, throwing away the end of his cigar and rising from his deep chair—“were you looking at the Vicomte when you answered the question?”
“Yes.”