"And where did that come from?" he asked with pursed lips.
Philip shrugged his shoulders. Somehow the answer was "Rooke" as plainly as if he had spoken the name.
"And where did he get it?"
"Up there." Philip's eyes made the slightest of turns up towards the ceiling.
"From one of those two fellows?"
"I suppose so."
"How do you mean, you 'suppose' so? Don't you know?"
"I'm not perfectly sure yet. You see, just at that moment Audrey Cunningham came in, and it isn't the kind of thing you discuss with women there. I thought she'd gone, or I should have waited a bit."
"Well, don't you think it's time you told us a little more now?"
This is the narrative that followed, with that beastly object still lying there in the silky light of the mignonette-shaded lamp.