“Was it at behest of Colonel Menendez that you called upon me, Mr. Knox?”
“It was not,” said Harley, tersely; “it was at mine. And he is here now at my request. Come, sir, we are wasting time. At any moment”
Colin Camber held up his hand, interrupting him.
“By your leave, Mr. Harley,” he said, and there was something compelling in voice and gesture, “I must first perform my duty as a gentleman.”
He stepped forward in my direction.
“Mr. Knox, I have grossly insulted you. Yet if you knew what had inspired my behaviour I believe you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I do not ask you to do so, however; I accept the humiliation of knowing that I have mortally offended a guest.”
He bowed to me formally, and would have returned to his seat, but:
“Pray say no more,” I said, standing up and extending my hand. Indeed, so impressive was the man’s strange personality that I felt rather as one receiving a royal pardon than as an offended party being offered an apology. “It was a misunderstanding. Let us forget it.”
His eyes gleamed, and he seized my hand in a warm grip.
“You are generous, Mr. Knox, you are generous. And now, sir,” he inclined his head in Paul Harley’s direction, and resumed his seat.
Harley had suffered this odd little interlude in silence but now:
“Mr. Camber,” he said, rapidly, “I sent you a message by your Chinese servant to the effect that the police would be here within ten minutes to arrest you.”
“You did, sir,” replied Colin Camber, drawing
