“I told the man who met me at the gate that I wished to see Mr. Vanardy,” she remarked. “Later I told Hawkes the same thing. Neither one intimated that Mr. Vanardy was no longer here. I was asked a lot of useless questions and asked to wait. Then—”
“My dear Miss Hardwick,” smoothly interrupted Slade, “you must understand that the circumstances under which my half-sister and myself are living here make it necessary for me to be very cautious with regard to visitors. My servants have orders to subject all callers to careful inspection and cross-examination. For instance, how do I know that you are not a newspaper reporter looking for a sensation?”
Helen smiled; the suggestion seemed so absurd. Once more the blare of a horn sounded in the distance.
“And that reminds me,” Slade went on in slightly altered tones, “that you have not yet explained your presence here. I asked you a moment ago whether it had anything to do with what happened at the Thelma Theater.”
“So you did.” Helen’s smile, though tantalizing, was the kind with which one masks an inner turbulence.
“I am waiting for your answer.” Slade seemed as suave and urbane as before, but his eye was a trifle frostier and his tone carried a peremptory note. Helen glanced at the window. A glare like that of a motor car’s headlight was approaching the house.
“Your question is very peculiar,” she replied with a haughtiness which she did not quite feel, “and I see no reason why I should answer it.”
“No?” Slade had ceased his pacing of the floor, and Helen wondered whether it was by design or accident that he had stopped with his back to the door. “Perhaps the question will seem less peculiar if I word it differently. What did you mean when you told Hawkes that the business you wished to discuss with Vanardy had to do with Mr. Shei?”
Helen felt a tingle of suspense. There was a sneer on Slade’s lips and his frigid eyes filled her with a vague dread. She tried to parry the question with banter, but the words would not come. She twisted in her chair, and suddenly, as the door behind Slade’s back came open, her gaze grew rigid and a look of consternation filled her eyes. She gripped the arms of her chair and very slowly raised herself to her feet, all the while staring intently at the figure whose arrival had been heralded a few minutes ago by the headlight’s glare.
The newcomer seemed startled at first, then he smiled. Slade stepped aside and bowed deferentially to the man in the doorway. Then he noticed Helen’s transfigured face.