"Come as early as
possible. Good night, Duncombe! I should like to know who your nocturnal
visitor was."
"If he comes again," Duncombe said, "I may be able to tell you."
He walked to his desk, and taking out a revolver, slipped it into his
pocket. Then he rang the bell for Lord Runton's carriage. It seemed to
Duncombe that there was a shade of coolness in his visitor's manner as
he took his leave. He drew Spencer a little on one side.
"I want you to promise to come and see me in any case to-morrow
morning," he said. "There is something which I should prefer saying to
you in my own house to saying here."
Spencer nodded.
"Very well," he said, "I will come. I can promise that much at least."
Lord Runton departed. Pelham went off to bed. Spencer and his host were
left alone in the library.
"Billiards, or a whisky and soda in the smoke-room?" the latter asked.
"I know that you are not a late bird."
"Neither, thanks. Just a word with you here," Spencer answered.
Duncombe paused on his way to the door. Spencer was standing in a
reflective attitude, with his hands behind his back, gently balancing
himself upon his toes.
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