“I think that is so. That is why I want some real friend of Porter’s to do it.”
Maguire laughed rather a forced laugh. “I suppose we’ve got to satisfy you. We’ll have Porter nominated by one of our own crowd.”
“I think that’s best. Good-evening.” Peter went to the door.
“Mr. Stirling,” called Kennedy. “Won’t you stay and take some whisky and water with us?”
“Thank you,” said Peter. “Mr. Costell’s in my room and he must be tired of waiting.” He closed the door, and walked away.
The couple looked at each other blankly for a moment.
“The —— cuss is playing a double game,” Maguire gasped.
“I don’t know what it means!” said Kennedy.
“Mean?” cried Maguire. “It can mean only one thing. He’s acting under Costell’s orders.”
“But why should he give it away to us?”