Winter read:

"Sorry to spoil your party. Compelled to travel to London. Returning
early to-morrow. F."

"That's pretty Fanny's way," smiled the Chief Inspector. "But there's
something in the wind, or he would never have hurried off in this
fashion. He tells me that the only pleasant evening he spent in
Steynholme was under your roof, Mr. Grant."

"Come along in, Don Jaime!" drawled Hart's voice from the "den," which
had been cleared of its litter, the lawn being deemed somewhat unsuitable
for the purposes of a drawing-room on that occasion. It was overlooked
from too many quarters.

"Ah, we meet now under less uneven conditions, Mr. Hart," said Winter.
"Do you know that Enrico Suarez is in London?"

Hart, startled for once in his life, gazed at the detective fixedly.

"Since when?" he cried.

"He crossed from Lisbon last week."

Hart took a revolver from his hip pocket, and opened it, apparently
making sure that it was properly loaded.

"What's the law in England?" he inquired. "Can I shoot first, or must I
wait till the other fellow has had a pop?"