"There's no such thing as a noisy gentleman."
Ezra P. Hipps rapped the butt of his automatic on the table top.
"You can keep the cross-talking for the automobile," he said. "We're through here—step out."
As they moved toward the door Laurence slipped a hand through Richard's arm.
"My dear old fellow," he said, "if you only knew how distasteful all this is to me."
Richard drew his arm away sharply.
"So's that to me," he said, brushing his sleeve with the deliberate will to offend. Then he turned and bowed to Auriole. "Your friends are amusing but I'm afraid they are going to waste a lot of time. Are you coming our way?"
CHAPTER 10.
NERVES.
The clocks were striking seven when Anthony Barraclough descended the stairs of the flats and hailed a taxi. The street was deserted save for a policeman and an old hag who was sorting over the contents of a dustbin outside the adjoining house. She shot a quick glance at Barraclough and broke into a cackle of thin laughter.