Her husband settled himself contentedly.

“That,” he said drowsily, “is what’s worrying me.”

“Outrageous,” said Daphne.  Then she turned to me.  “It’s too late to do anything now.  Will you go down and explain?  Perhaps he can manage in the library.  Unless Jonah likes to give up his bed.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said, taking a cigarette from the box by her side.

“Oh, and do ask if it’s true about Evelyn.”

“Right oh.  I’ll tell you as I come back.”

“I forbid you,” murmured her husband, “to re-enter this room.”

I kissed my sister, lobbed a novel on to my brother-in-law’s back, and withdrew before he had time to retaliate.  Then I stepped barefoot downstairs, to perform my mission.

With the collapse of the excitement, Nobby’s suspicion shrank into curiosity, his muscles relaxed, and he stopped quivering.  So infectious a thing is perturbation.

The door of the library was ajar, and the thin strip of light which issued was enough to guide me across the hall.  The parquet was cold to the touch, and I began to regret that I had not returned for my slippers.

As I pushed the door open—­

“I say, Jonah,” I said, “that fool Berry——­”

It was with something of a shock that I found myself looking directly along the barrel of a .45 automatic pistol, which a stout gentleman, wearing a green mask, white kid gloves, and immaculate evening-dress, was pointing immediately at my nose.

“There now,” he purred.  “I was going to say, ‘Hands up.’  Just like that.  ‘Hands up.’  It’s so romantic.  But I hadn’t expected the dog.  Suppose you put your right hand up.”

I shook my head.

“I want that for my cigarette,” I said.

For a moment we stood looking at one another.  Then my fat vis-a-vis began to shake with laughter.

“You know,” he gurgled, “this is most irregular.  It’s enough to make Jack Sheppard turn in his grave.  It is really.  However....  As an inveterate smoker, I feel for you.  So we’ll have a compromise.”  He nodded towards an armchair which stood by the window.  “You go and sit down in that extremely comfortable armchair—­sit well back—­and we won’t say any more about the hands.”

As he spoke, he stepped forward.  Nobby received him with a venomous growl, and to my amazement the fellow immediately caressed him.

“Dogs always take to me,” he added.  “I’m sure I don’t know why, but it’s a great help.”

To my mortification, the Sealyham proved to be no exception to the rule.  I could feel his tail going.

As in a dream, I crossed to the chair and sat down.  As I moved, the pistol moved also.

“I hate pointing this thing at you,” said the late speaker.  “It’s so suggestive.  If you’d care to give me your word, you know....  Between gentlemen....”

“I make no promises,” I snapped.

The other sighed.