"Hullo!" said Gatton. "Detective-Inspector Gatton, C.I.D., speaking from Willow Cottage, College Road. Send two men in a cab here at once to remove a prisoner.... Right! Good-by."
He came in again, and closing the door behind him, stood staring at Damar Greefe in a sort of wonderment. The Eurasian wearily opened his eyes and looked slowly from side to side. Then:
"Pray be seated, Inspector Gatton," he said. "I have a communication to make."
Gatton, with never a word, drew up a chair and sat down.
"I do not desire to be interrupted," continued Damar Greefe, "until my communication is finished. You understand? It will not be repeated."
"I am afraid," murmured Gatton dryly, "it will have to be."
The Eurasian fully opened his glittering black eyes, and fixing them upon the speaker:
"It will not be repeated," he said harshly. "If I am misunderstood, inform me."
His peremptory manner in the circumstances was extraordinary—uncanny. As I had perceived in the first hour of our meeting, Dr. Damar Greefe was a man possessing tremendous force of character and a pride of intellect which clearly rendered him indifferent even of retribution.
"This point being settled," he continued, "be good enough, Inspector Gatton, and"—he turned his eyes in my direction—"Mr. Addison, to give me your undivided attention."