It was a wholly unexpected question, and Grant answered sharply:
“Of course, I can.”
“Tell him to make sure that no one trespasses on your lawn between now and ten o’clock. Close that window, draw the blind and curtains, and block that small window, the one through which you saw the ghost.”
“Ye gods!” cackled Hart ecstatically.
“Why all these precautions?” demanded Grant, rather amused now.
“I’m supposed to be on the very verge of arresting you, and it would weaken the faith of my allies if I were seen drinking your wines and eating your chicken.”
“By the way, how did you know I had chickens in store, and a spit on which to roast them?”
“I looked you over at five-thirty this morning, having traveled from London by the mail train. I must lecture you on your inefficient window-catches, Mr. Grant. Several self-respecting burglars of my acquaintance would give your house the go-by as being too easy. And, one other matter. I suggest that any man who mentions the Steynholme murder again before the coffee arrives shall be fined a sovereign for each offense, such fine, or fines, to form a fund for the relief of his hearers. Cré nom d’un pipe! Three intelligent men can surely discuss more interesting topics while they eat!”
Chapter VIII.
An Interrupted Symposium
“Have a cigarette,” said Grant to Furneaux, when the blinds were drawn, a lamp lighted, and the sherry dispensed.