He seemed inclined to linger, evidently with the idea of tightening his grip on her by either persuasion or bullying, as her attitude might warrant. But she touched the bell and Mr. Mirk appeared; and the author of "Black Roses" took himself off perforce, with many a knowing leer, both threatening and blandishing.
As soon as he had gone, she called up her husband. Very quietly, but guardedly, she conversed with him for a few moments.
When she hung up the receiver she was laughing. But it was otherwise with Desboro.
"Cairns," he said, turning from the telephone to his associate, "there's a silly fellow bothering my wife. If you don't mind my leaving the office for a few minutes I'll step around and speak to him." His usually agreeable features had grown colourless and ugly, but his voice sounded casual enough.
"What are you going to do, Jim? Murder?"
Desboro laughed.
"I'll be gone only a few minutes," he said.
"It could be done in a few minutes," mused Cairns. "Do you want me to go with you?"
"No, thanks." He picked up his hat, nodded curtly, and went out.