"Will you deny that you have business here? Business of a private nature?"
"I cannot deny that, for it is true."
"And that your business consists in peeping, and watching, and spying?"
"You are partly right."
"And," continued Frank, growing warm, "don't you think that to peep and to spy is a despicable proceeding?"
"In some cases it may undoubtedly be so regarded," was the calm, cool answer. "In other cases it is perfectly justifiable. When some good end, for instance, has to be obtained: or, let us say, a problem worked out."
"The devil can quote Scripture, we are told, to serve his own purposes," muttered Frank to himself as he turned away, afraid of pursuing the subject, half afraid of what revelation the man might make, and of his fearless grey eyes and their steadfast gaze.
They strode apart one from another at right angles. The stranger with careless, easy steps, with profound composure: Frank less easy than usual.
"I wonder," soliloquized he, "whether Pellet has let him into that unhappy night's secret, or whether he has only given him general instructions to look after me, and has kept him in the dark? Any way, I wish Blase Pellet was——"
The wish, whatever it might have been, was left unspoken. For the Tiger had changed his course. Had turned to follow Frank at a fleet pace, and now came up with him.