"I wouldn't," I said tersely.
"I'm not, anyway," he continued, with those infernally self-possessed eyes daring me ... daring me what?
"You've got to explain what you were doing in that room," I threatened. "The sooner you tell me the better it'll be for you."
"It's no use talking like that, my friend," he said. "You won't get a word more out of me than I wish, and while I think of it you'd better call in the police at once and have done with it."
It was the first time that the idea of the police had occurred to me, and, now I came to think of it, it wasn't too acceptable. Without knowing much about it, I surmised that the less Bryce had to do with the police the better he'd be pleased, that is if I could base anything on the way he had behaved that morning on the beach. As it was Moira seemed to have much the same idea as myself, or perhaps she spoke from superior knowledge.
"Don't call the police in, Jim," she said in a quick whisper. "You mustn't do that. It'd be better to let him go."
I shook my head. "I don't want to let him go," I said, "but if you don't want to make an example of him, I don't see what else there is for it. I'll have a word with him first, at any rate, and see what I can make out of him."
"Be careful, Jim," she whispered, all the strain and anger occasioned by my ill-timed insult disappearing in her anxiety for my welfare.
I ignored her admonition, more because I could think of no suitable reply than for any other reason, and addressed myself to the captive.
"Get up," I said. "You and I are going to have a little heart-to-heart talk."