"Gentlemen, it's come to our ears that a certain Mr. Barraclough is taking grave risks tonight to get home."
Cranbourne flashed an eye at the bedroom door. "Go on!" he said.
"Talk straight, man."
Hilbert Torrington held up a hand.
"One minute," he suggested. "I imagine Mr. Hipps is reluctant to speak out before so many witnesses. It would be better perhaps if Mr. Van Diest and myself discussed this matter in private. Is everyone agreeable?"
There was some small demur, but it was finally agreed upon. The others went out into the hall, leaving Mr. Torrington and Van Diest alone.
They were both very smiling and scrupulously polite, but the air of the room seemed to crackle with stored electricity. The Dutchman was given a chair by the writing table and cigarettes were placed at his elbow. Indeed, every social amenity was observed before Hilbert Torrington fired the first round.
"Let us assume, Van Diest, that we are neither of us honourable men."
Van Diest took quite a long time lighting a cigarette before replying.
"You don't mind if I smoke?"
"It's an admirable sedative for conscience and nerves alike. Wouldn't you prefer a cigar of Barraclough's?"