“What the deuce was he doing that for?”
“Because he wanted to go back to bed,” said Barry.
“About time, too. Well?”
“As he was going past your study, a white figure emerged—”
“I should strongly advise you, young Barry,” said Milton, gravely, “not to try and rot me in any way. You’re a jolly good wing three-quarters, but you shouldn’t presume on it. I’d slay the Old Man himself if he rotted me about this business.”
Barry was quite pained at this sceptical attitude in one whom he was going out of his way to assist.
“I’m not rotting,” he protested. “This is all quite true.”
“Well, go on. You were saying something about white figures emerging.”
“Not white figures. A white figure,” corrected Barry. “It came out of your study—”
“—And vanished through the wall?”