“My name is Cameron, Mr. Doyle. I have had a small difference with your watch-dog, but he finally let me by.”
“I'm afraid I don't understand. I have no dog.”
“The sentry you keep posted, then.” Mr. Cameron disliked fencing.
“Ah!” said Mr. Doyle, urbanely. “You have happened on one of my good friends, I see. I have many enemies, Mr. Cameron—was that the name? And my friends sometimes like to keep an eye on me. It is rather touching.”
He was smiling, Mr. Cameron knew, and his anger rose afresh.
“Very touching,” said Mr. Cameron, “but if he bothers me going out you may be short one friend. Mr. Doyle, Miss Lily Cardew left her home to-night. I want to know if she is here.”
“Are you sent by her family?”
“I have asked you if she is here.”
Jim Doyle apparently deliberated.
“My niece is here, although just why you should interest yourself—”