"What do you mean?"
"I came at the invitation of this lady, Miss Cora Dobbs, who is a very old friend of mine."
The man turned towards the sofa. Cora nodded. But she was now bordering on a state of coma.
"Who are you, sir?" Harper tried hard to keep his temper in spite of the man's calculated insolence. "Are you a relation of hers?"
"A relation!" The man was taken aback. "We are both here for the same object, I presume."
"I don't know what you mean, but this is my flat and I'll be very thankful if you'll quit."
"Your flat!" A light seemed to dawn. The man turned to Cora: "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were on your own, as you were before I went to Canada."
To the man's clear annoyance, Cora had now reached a phase which forbade her to answer this question. He then addressed Henry Harper with a sudden change of voice.
"She's not played the game," he said, half apologetically.
"I don't know what you mean by that. I don't understand you."