Mr. Franklyn looked at his questioner as attentively as the imperfect light would permit. To his trained ear there was something in the inquirer's tone which was peculiar.
"Mr. Paxton! Why do you ask?"
Ireland seemed to hesitate. Then blurted out bluntly--
"Because I've a warrant for his arrest."
Franklyn made a startled movement backwards.
"His arrest! Ireland, you're dreaming!"
"Am I? I'm not of a dreaming sort, as you ought to know by now. Look here, Mr. Franklyn, you and I know each other. I know you're Mr. Paxton's friend, but if you'll take my advice, you won't, for his sake, try to give him a lead away from us. You've just come out of Makell's Hotel. Is he there?"
Mr. Franklyn answered, without pausing a moment for reflection.
"He is not there. Nor did they seem to be able to tell me where he is. I'm quite as anxious to see him as you are."
Ireland slapped his hand against his legs.