"Oh, my dear Andrew!" he gasped. "Oh, I can't help it—you a bigamist! Poor respectable old blighter! I say, what a joke! Oh, Andrew, Andrew, my bonny, bonny boy!"
In silence through it all, Andrew gazed darkly down at the late Heriot Walkingshaw.
CHAPTER VI
"When you have finished," said Andrew grimly.
He looked a nasty customer to tackle now, but the laugher on the sofa merely subsided into a friendly smile.
"Shake hands, Andrew," he cried, jumping up.
Andrew placed his hands behind his back, and his glowering eyes answered this overture.
"What!" said Heriot, "won't you even shake hands?"