“Hold your tongue!” rapped Irvin. “You’ve been drinking: and I place no reliance whatever in your evidence. I do not believe that my wife or any one else but ourselves is upon these premises.”
The watery eyes of the insulted man protruded unnaturally. “Drinkin’!” he whispered, “drink—”
But indignation now deprived Gunn of speech and:
“Excuse me, sir,” interrupted the nasal voice of Brisley, “but I can absolutely answer for Gunn. Reputation of the Agency at stake. Worked with us for three years. Parties undoubtedly on the premises as reported.”
“Drink—” whispered Gunn.
“I shall be glad,” said Monte Irvin, and his voice shook emotionally, “if you will lend me your pocket lamp. I am naturally upset. Will you kindly both go downstairs. I will call if I want you.”
The two men obeyed, Gunn muttering hoarsely to Brisley; and Monte Irvin was left standing on the landing, the lamp in his hand. He waited until he knew from the sound of their footsteps that the pair had regained the street, then, resting his arm against the closed door, and pressing his forehead to the damp sleeve of his coat, he stood awhile, the lamp, which he held limply, shining down upon the floor.
His lips moved, and almost inaudibly he murmured his wife’s name.
CHAPTER V.
THE DOOR IS OPENED
Quentin Gray and Seton strolled out of Prince’s and both paused whilst Seton lighted a long black cheroot.