“When you call next time, old chap, you might ring, and not enter with your key. It was a narrow squeak that I didn’t wing you.”
“Are you so fond of shooting at people?” I asked meaningly.
“Shooting! What do you mean?” he asked with a sickly smile. “As a soldier I have to practice with the revolver, of course.”
“But not upon your visitors, I hope,” I said laughing as we were passing along the narrow hall.
We were outside the door of the dining-room, which, being ajar, showed there was no light inside, when suddenly there came from the room a distinct sound.
“Halloa!” I cried gayly. “Who have you got in there? Let’s have a look.”
I placed my hand upon the door to push it open, but with an agile movement he sprang towards me and stood resolutely with his back to the door, deathly pale in alarm.
“No, Stuart,” he gasped. “You must not enter.”
“Why? Who’s your friend? You arouse my curiosity,” I said.
“I forbid you to enter,” he replied firmly, standing with his arms akimbo and brows knit in determination.