It was a triumphant moment when he saw a look of fear pass over Bulstrode’s contemptuous countenance. It was a notable hit.
“You wouldn’t do that?” he cried.
“That depends,” Drummond answered.
Upon what it depended Clent Bulstrode never knew for there came the noise of an automobile stopping outside the door. There was a honking of the horn and the confused sound of many voices talking at once.
Drummond followed the Bostonian through the great hall to the open door. They could see Old Man Afraid of His Wife assisting a young inebriate in evening dress. And his Inverness cape was lined with white silk and over his eyes an opera hat was pulled.
The chauffeur alone was sober. He touched his hat when he saw Mr. Bulstrode.
“Where have you come from?” he demanded.
“I took the gentlemen to New Haven,” he said.
“Has my son been with you all the evening?”
“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur returned.