Her fingers clutched tightly on the elbows of the chair, and her eyes roamed wildly about the room to come to rest at last on his impassive figure. “You have no right⁠—” she began furiously.

He smiled tranquilly down at her. “I suggest that you calm yourself, madam. I shall not bite you.”

She rose. “If you think I will suffer this impertinence you are mistaken.”

Labar soberly adjusted his tall figure to a settee. It was bad manners, but he intended it simply as a gesture to this woman who, half-afraid and half-angry, was wondering as to the purport of his visit. He was confident that her curiosity would for the time hold her.

“I beg your pardon. If I tell you that I have in my possession the letter you wrote to Larry Hughes yesterday, it may afford you some reason for my insistence.”