Astry laughed. "That's it, Paul," he agreed. "I'm off the bat." He held up the red sphere. "You're to touch it with the left hand only."
They all moved forward and touched it, their faces strongly suggestive of their temperaments. John's was scornful, Sedley's red and slightly embarrassed, Macclesfield's curious and amused, Van Citters' stolid, Belhaven's and Billop's both white.
Five hands were held up.
Astry looked from one to the other and laughed mockingly. "Billop, you're the man; every other hand is stained with red. You were the only one afraid to touch it; what's your crime?"
They stood looking at Sidney, who turned from white to red.
"Look here, I don't know what you mean, anyhow," he stammered; "it's all rotten!"
Astry continued to laugh, his eyes very narrow. "This lies between you and Belhaven," he said courteously, "and I'll leave you to him. He's a kind of interpreter of the Red Sphere to-night. Come, gentlemen," he added to the others, with a sudden grave change of manner, "I think I hear Mrs. Astry calling us. We'd better leave them to settle it between them; the sphere closes the episode."
XXI
Left alone to his task, Belhaven lost no time in stating the case plainly and without mercy to the unfortunate talebearer; he presented it with a peculiar nakedness that would be popularly described as being "without frills." Sidney Billop, like all other busybodies when confronted with the result of their labors, was seized with an overwhelming panic. His hand shook slightly as he held the damning sheet close to his face and his near-sighted eyes seemed to fade with fright, while he occupied considerable time in adjusting his glasses to read an article that he already knew by heart. For he and his mother had been filled with mingled feelings of alarm and amusement on reading it at the breakfast-table that morning. They had relished the whispered discussions in cosy corners and the hints over a cup of tea, but the actual appearance of the story in type was rather discomfiting, for they had never intended it to get that far, and were not even certain how it had traveled, growing in size and momentum like a snow-ball, until it finally exploded in the open and spattered the surrounding landscape with the fragments.
Belhaven watched him moodily, his handsome, haggard face dark with contending emotions. "I suppose you know that story is framed by the malice of a discharged servant now in the employ of your mother?"