“Is Mr. Sefton inside?”
“Come in,” said Halley. “I am a friend and was calling on them when I heard you knock.”
Without a word the men entered; Fletcher appeared very uncomfortable and would not look at Ena.
“Mr. Sefton,” said Andrews, “we are sorry to intrude on you at this time of night, and I must apologise to you, Miss Sefton,” he continued, bowing to the girl, “but we wish to ask you one or two questions, perhaps you would prefer to come outside with us.”
Sefton’s face was white and set, but he seemed to take a sudden resolution.
“No,” he said, “you can ask any questions you like here, you have plenty of witnesses,” and he threw his hand round with a nervous gesture.
“In the first place, can you give us any information with regard to the mysterious disappearance of Summers, the missing bank manager?”
“I can give no information whatever,” he replied.
Andrews continued. “Can you tell us in that case, what you were doing with Summers at the bungalow called The Red Cote?”
“I refuse to give you any information whatever,” replied Sefton starting to his feet.