“You were engaged to her—eh? Yes, I know,” responded the old man. “For that very reason I refuse to tell you. I can only reassure you, however, that you need experience no anxiety.”
“But I do. I love her!”
“Then I am very sorry, your mind must still continue to be exercised. At present I cannot tell you anything.”
“Why?”
“Have I not already told you? I am expecting a visitor.”
It was all the satisfaction they could obtain.
Charlie longed for an opportunity to refer to the gruesome object in that locked room upstairs. The man who had so suddenly reappeared and sworn vengeance upon the great financier was dead—fallen a victim, no doubt, to the old man’s clever cunning. He had, without doubt, been enticed there to his death. The secret reason of the white-enamelled door at the top of the stairs was now quite plain. In that house was a terrible death-trap, as deadly as it was unexpected.
They held knowledge of the truth. How would the old man act?
Contrary to their expectations, he remained quite indifferent. He even offered them a drink, which they refused.
His refusal to tell them anything regarding Marion and his treatment of Maud had incensed them, and they both were bitterly antagonistic towards him. He was, no doubt, playing a huge game of bluff. His disregard of their discoveries was in order to lessen their importance, and his story of a visitor told to gain time.