There was another silence.
“Sorry,” said Joyce, “but I can’t allow that.”
“Why not?”
Bertram knew the “row” was coming.
“It’s not in my contract with the maids,” said Joyce very calmly. Then she spoke another sentence which seemed to reveal a knowledge, or at least a guess of the inner meaning of this visit from Susan and Dennis.
“Besides, my house is not going to be made a hiding place for Irish rebels. I’m English, and play the game accordingly.”
Yes, undoubtedly, there was going to be a row!
Bertram decided upon a frank explanation. Joyce had the right to know.
“Look here, Joyce, O’Brien is Susan’s husband, and the police are after him. You know how I stand about Sinn Fein. . . . Anyhow—I’ve given my word. O’Brien stays here to-night.”
“He does not stay,” said Joyce. “This is my house. If that man is not out of it in two minutes, I’ll telephone to the police.”