His earlier talk with her and something in her tone now left Landis unconvinced by this attack of maiden modesty. He left the lights on and moved to the library door.
“Thanks,” he said to the policeman. “I’ll take care of this now. Go back to your watch.”
The man reluctantly withdrew into the library, stealing one last glance at Anita’s delectable figure.
“Now, Miss Harrison,” said Landis, “if you’ll step into the billiard-room there, I’ll get you something to put round you. Then I think we’ll have a talk!”
Anita straightened, flung up her head, laughed softly and obeyed, stepping past Bernard with a demure glance. She went swaying lightly past the table and slipped into a chair before the dying fire. Landis forebore to look at her but strode to his room for his overcoat. His glimpse of Anita’s slender, curving outline, distinct through her diaphanous clothing, had startled him as it had startled the policeman. The fact irritated him to real anger, as, regrettably, it had not the policeman.
He returned to find the girl where he had left her and Bernard pacing beside the billiard table. The older man looked at him with grim humor.
“Thought you’d steal a march on me, didn’t you!” he demanded.
“I just wanted to let you rest!” Landis found his temper evaporating. “But your idea of one of us at each bolt hole was better than my attempt to catch her single-handed!”
Thus momentarily ignored, Anita turned her head.