It was not far to the hotel. Barnaby got out stiffly and Rackham followed.
"I hope you've got a nurse on the premises," he said,—"or a keeper."
"We'll go to my room," said Barnaby, in the same deadly quiet voice. Up there he closed the door and turned round on Rackham like one who had got to the end of his tether.
"Now!" he said. "Damn you, what have you done with my wife?"
"What?" said Rackham. He had not expected that charge.
"You know where she is," said Barnaby. "Don't lie to me. You were with her in Bond Street——"
So that was it.
"How should I know if you don't?" said Rackham. "Do you mean she's gone?"
His eagerness was unmistakable. It was worth a torrent of empty protestation. The two men looked each other straight in the eyes.
The likeness between them came out then, when they were roused. Something in the angry set of the jaw, something in their expression; a recklessness, a hard blue stare.