“Oh, is that so, sir?” Rohan asked, gazing. “I ought to have known it, mebbe. Who else is here, sir?”
“Nobody,” Captain Dillon said curtly. “I live alone in this flat. Come to the point, my man. What do you want of me?”
“I’m not after wanting anything, sir,” replied Rohan, drawing nearer the table. “It’s them that sent me.”
“Who are they? Why did they send you?”
“I’m not to mention any names, sir. I’m sent here only to tell you what they want—and to find out what you are willing to give up for it.”
Captain Dillon turned wary. He was not a man to be easily led into a trap. He frowned again, saying a bit sternly:
“You must be more explicit, Mr. Rohan. I’m not good at guessing riddles. I don’t know at what you’re driving.”
“You don’t, eh?” Rohan’s eyes took on a curious leer.
“I certainly do not,” Dillon insisted.
“You was beat up a few nights back, wasn’t you?”