“Why all the pleasure?” he inquired, calmly.
“Well, in view of your proceedings of late I think I was warranted in feeling slightly concerned about you. A fellow of your quality and disposition takes a fair chance of having someone run a knife into him. If I were you, Ken, I’d avoid dark and unfrequented spots, and I’d suspect people.”
“That would be an attractive arrangement for a maiden lady,” said Kenyon, dryly, “but I don’t think it quite fills the bill of requirements of a man engaged in a more or less desperate game.”
Webster looked at him observantly.
“It’s still going on, then?” said he.
Kenyon nodded.
“Well, just what phases have you lately passed through. I’m willing to admit that I am all of a-tremble; but at the same time I’m strong on curiosity. Your use of the word desperate seems advised; so if you have anything to tell, tell it quickly.”
“Last night,” spoke Kenyon, knocking the ash from his cigar, and inspecting a loose spot in the wrapper, “I made an attempt to get at the bottom of this case at one blow.”
“And did you?”
“Not quite.”