He must have guessed who it was, for there was a distinct and regrettable lack of cordiality about the invitation. However, I accepted it for what it was worth, and, entering the room, closed the door behind me.
Sangatte was standing with his back to the fireplace, looking about as amiable as a tiger with a headache. I strolled up to him, and stationed myself in an equally impressive attitude against the end of the sofa.
"Look here, Northcote," he broke out, making an evident effort to keep his temper, "I'd like to know what on earth you think you're playing at."
"We are both looking for information," I returned. "I want to know what you mean by insulting Miss de Rosen."
He scowled at me for a moment, and then laughed—a singularly unpleasant, suggestive sort of laugh.
"Oh, that's how the land lies, is it!" Then he paused.
My fingers itched to take him by the throat and bang his head against the wall, but, fortunately for us both perhaps, that cursed promise of mine to Northcote held me back.
"Well, I don't know what you think about it," he said surlily, "but it seems to me that you and I can't afford to quarrel about a woman just at present. Women and business don't mix."
"I think they will in this case," I said, "unless you play the game a little straighter."
He favoured me with a glance which no one could have described as affectionate.