"All right. I don't object to that."
"Thanks."
"Don't start anything, though."
"I don't know what you mean."
Jimmy pointed to the safe.
"Come, come, friend of my youth. We have no secrets from each
other. I know you're after what's in there, and you know that I
know. I don't want to harp on it, but you'll be spending to-night
in the house, and I think you had better make up your mind to
spend it in your room, getting a nice sleep to prepare you for
your journey. Do you follow me, old friend?"
"I get you."
"That will be all then, I think. Wind a smile around your neck
and recede."
The door slammed. Lord Wisbeach had restrained his feelings
successfully during the interview, but he could not deny himself
that slight expression of them. Jimmy crossed the room and took
his coat from the chair where the other had dropped it. As he did
so a voice spoke.
"Say!"
Jimmy spun round. The room was apparently empty. The thing was
beginning to assume an uncanny aspect, when the voice spoke
again.
"You think you're darned funny, don't you?"
It came from above. Jimmy had forgotten the gallery. He directed
his gaze thither, and perceived the heavy face of Ogden hanging
over the rail like a gargoyle.
"What are you doing there?" he demanded.
"Listening."
"How did you get there?"
"There's a door back here that you get to from the stairs. I
often come here for a quiet cigarette.
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