Going out of the room, they came face to face with Lord Evelyn Urquhart coming in. He saw them; he stiffened a little, repressing a start; he stood elaborately aside to let them pass, bowing slightly.
Neither Margerison said anything. Hilary's bow was the stage copy of his own; Peter didn't look at him at all, but hurried by.
The servant let them out, and shut the hall door behind them.
Lord Evelyn said to his nephew in the library, swinging his eye-glass restlessly to and fro, "Why do you let those people into your house, Denis? I thought we had done with them."
"They came to call," said Denis, who did not seem disposed to be communicative. "I can't say why they chose this particular hour."
Lord Evelyn paced up the room, restless, nervous, petulant.
"It's monstrous," he said querulously. "Perfectly monstrous. Shameless. How dare they show their faces in this house?... I suppose they wanted something out of you, did they?"
Denis merely said, "After all, Peter is my cousin by marriage, you must remember. And I have never broken with him."
Lord Evelyn returned, "The more shame to you. He's as great a swindler as his precious brother; they're a pair, you can't deny that."
Denis didn't attempt to deny it; probably he was feeling a little tired of the Margerisons to-night.