old scores owed by their deceased members, especially with the minions of the law.
So I sat there, all taut and drawing, and before long I heard the front door open and a bass voice that I recognised as M. de Maxeville's. He went straight up to Ivan's office, and for an hour I heard the low rumble of conversation.
Then, as I waited, there came the sound of Ivan's quick, nervous step in the corridor outside. I got up out of the big chair and stood, slipping my left hand into the pocket of my coat. I'm just as accurate with the left, and it leaves the right to shake hands with.
"Chu—M. de Maxeville is here," said Ivan. "He denies all knowledge of Mrs. Cuttynge's pearls. In fact, he has managed to convince me that he is telling the truth. As it is, he is very angry because I gave back the other string to you. I have told him that you are here and he insists that you come in and make your charges yourself. Do you care to do so?"
"Yes," said I, "if it's all the same to you."
Then come," said Ivan, and led the way to the office.
