, then," he remarked. "There are a few questions I
shall be glad to ask him in the morning."

"There is one," Pelham said, "which you must answer now."

Spencer raised his eyebrows. He was standing with his back to them now,
helping himself to sandwiches from a dish upon the sideboard.

"By Jove, your cook does understand these things," he remarked, with his
mouth full. "No idea I was so hungry. What was that, Mr. Pelham? A
question which must be answered now?"

"Yes. You telegraphed to Duncombe to know the names of Lord Runton's
guests, and now you have come here yourself. Why?"

Spencer helped himself to another sandwich.

"I came here," he said, "because I didn't seem to be getting on in
Paris. It struck me that the clue to Miss Poynton's disappearance might
after all be on this side of the Channel."

Pelham guided himself by the table to the sideboard. He stood close to
Spencer.

"Mr. Spencer," he said, "I am almost blind, and I cannot see your face,
but I want you to tell me the truth. I expect it from you."

"My dear fellow," Spencer answered. "I'm awfully sorry for you, of
course, but I really don't see why I should answer your questions at
all, truthfully or untruthfully. I have been making a few inquiries for
my friend Duncombe. At present I regret to say that I have been
unsuccessful. In their present crude state I should prefer keeping my
discoveries, such as they are, to myself."

Pelham struck the sideboard with his clenched fist so that all the
glasses rattled upon the tray. His face was dark with passion.

"I will not be ignored in this matter," he declared. "Phyllis Poynton
and her brother are nothing to Duncombe. He acted only for me. He cannot
deny it. Ask him for yourself."

"I do not need to ask him," Spencer answered. "I am perfectly well aware
of the circumstances of the case. All the same, I go about my business
my own way. I am not ready to answer questions from you or anybody
else."

"You shall tell me this at least," Pelham declared. "You shall tell me
why you telegraphed here for the names of Lord Runton's house party."

"Simplest thing in the world," Spencer answered, relinquishing his
attack upon the sandwiches, and lighting a cigarette. "I did it to
oblige a friend who writes society notes for the 'New York Herald.'"

Duncombe gave vent to a little exclamation of triumph. Pelham for the
moment was speechless.

"Awfully sorry if I misled you in any way," Spencer continued.