“Can’t see anyone this morning, Bill. It’s my busy day. Somebody whose cook has got away with the fish knives I expect. You go and have a word with her.”

“I think you’ll see this one,” said Malone. “She’s Miss Penelope Noelson.”

The girl was pale, but her voice was firm as she returned Labar’s formal greeting.

“I was on my way to see you,” he said.

“I expected you earlier,” she returned a trifle wearily. “As you didn’t come I thought it well⁠—”

“I hope you let me have the full story,” he interrupted. “You have had time to sleep over it, and perhaps you will see the wisdom of being absolutely frank. But understand you are not compelled to say anything. I shall conceivably have to use it against you.”