“You shall either speak—tell me the truth, or I will hand you over to the police. I have only to touch this bell”—and I raised my hand to the electric button beside the fireplace—“and a telephone message will call a constable.”
“And you really would give me in charge—eh?” laughed my visitor.
“I certainly intend doing so,” I answered angrily.
“Well, before this is done, let us speak frankly for a few moments,” suggested the Frenchman. “You tell me that you nearly lost your life in some house in Bayswater. Where was that?”
“In Porchester Terrace. What is the use of affecting ignorance?”
“I do not affect ignorance,” he said, and I saw that a change had completely overspread his countenance. “I only wish to know the extent of your knowledge of Reckitt and Forbes.”
“I have but little knowledge of your friends, I’m pleased to say,” was my quick rejoinder. “Let us leave them out of the question. What I desire to know is the whereabouts of my wife.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders.
“I regret that I have no knowledge of where madame may be.”