He repeated his request in the proper quarter, but was met with an uncompromising refusal.
"May I ask your reason?" he said.
"It is a question of manners," answered the Seraph.
"Then you wish me to apply for a search-warrant?"
"I am entirely indifferent. If you think it worth while, apply for one. As soon as it is presented, the police—are—welcome—to—any— discoveries—they—may—make."
The Seraph spoke with the quiet scorn of injured innocence. I saw a shadow of uncertainty settle on Nigel's face. The Seraph must have seen it, too; we preserved a strategic silence until uncertainty had matured into horrid doubt. I felt sorry for Nigel, as I feel sorry for any successful egoist in the toils of anticipated ridicule.
"It would be quicker to clear the matter up now," he said.
"My whole day is at your disposal."
"But mine is not. What is that room?"
"A spare bedroom, now occupied by Toby, if you ask for information."