"I'm out of cigars," he explained. "There's a box in the buffet; and just put out the lamp, will you."
Grenelli looked haggard in the gray light that streamed into the room as I drew the curtains. He started, too, when he saw that the day had come—it was quite perceptible.
"I should like to know the time," he growled. "It's only fair."
"To be sure," assented Indiman, and he pushed his watch, face upward, into the middle of the table. The dial indicated half-past seven, at which I was somewhat surprised, for I had not thought it so late. But my own watch had run down, and it will be remembered that Indiman had stopped the mantel-clock the night before. Half-past seven it was, then, for all that the hour again struck me as being rather advanced for a cloudy morning in mid-November. And evidently Grenelli thought so too. He could hardly suppress the exclamation that rose to his lips as he glanced at the dial.
Ten minutes passed, and then Grenelli spoke.
"If I tell you what you want to know," he said, "am I to be allowed to leave the house at once?"
"Yes."
"And I am to be safe from arrest? At least, sufficient time will be given—"
"Bah!" interrupted Indiman, scornfully. "Come and go as you will. I can break you like a rotten stick whenever it pleases me."
Grenelli drew in his breath with a vicious hiss. "At five minutes to eight I will tell you," he said, in a loud, overbearing voice.