“Ah!” he grunted. “You didn’t wish to. I should like you to be frank with me, Mr. Greve, please. Was it not a fact that you and Miss Trevert had words?”
He looked up sharply at him with contracted pupils.
“You took a certain interest in this young lady?”
“Mr. Manderton,”—Robin spoke with a certain hauteur,—“don’t you think we might leave Miss Trevert’s name out of this?”
“Mr. Greve,” replied the detective bluntly, “I don’t!”
Robin made a little gesture of resignation.
“Before the servants....”
“Come, come, sir,” the detective broke in, “with all respect to the young lady and yourself, it was a matter of common knowledge in the house that she and you were ... well, old friends. It was remarked, Mr. Greve, I may remind you, that you looked very upset-like when you left the billiard-room to”—he paused perceptibly—“to go for your stroll in the dark.”
Robin glanced quickly round the group. Jay averted his eyes. As for Bude, he was the picture of embarrassment.
“You seem to be singularly well posted in the gossip of the servants’ hall, Mr. Manderton!” said Robin hotly.