“Nothing,” he said.
“Yet,” rejoined Westerham, almost meditatively, “you must have been here at least five minutes before I arrived.”
“I tell you,” said Melun, almost earnestly, “that I found nothing.”
“That is to say,” said Westerham, “nothing which you could turn to your own good account.”
Melun smiled a sour yet demure little smile.
“Precisely,” he said evenly.
“Permit me,” said the baronet, just as quietly, “to inform you that you are a liar. If you will be good enough to turn over the bundle of socks which you will find in the right-hand corner of the kit-bag as it faces you now, I think you will be able to hand me something that is of interest to us both.”
“I was not aware that I could,” replied Captain Melun with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
Westerham picked up again the six-shooter which he had laid carelessly at his side.
“Have a look,” he said, and his voice was gently persuasive.