Hastings spoke then.
"Gentlemen!" he greeted pleasantly. "Mr. Sloane, good evening. Mr. Sheriff—am I interrupting a private conference?"
"Fiery fiends!" wailed Sloane. "Another!"
Hastings gave his attention to Crown. He was certain that the man, balked by Sloane's refusal to "talk," would welcome an excuse for leaving the room.
"Let me see you a moment, will you?" He put a hand on the sheriff's shoulder, persuading: "It's important, right now."
"But I want to know what Mr. Sloane's going to say," Crown blustered. "If he'll tell——"
Hastings stopped him with a whisper: "That's exactly what he'll do—soon!"
He led the sheriff into the hall. They went into the parlour.
"Now," Hastings began, in genial tone; "did you get anything from him?"