last night, I--I want to ask you something myself. I'm Doreen's brother,
though I'm not much of a brother for such a nice girl as she is.
And--and--what on earth did you think of going to Liverpool for _with a
woman_? I've a right to ask that now, haven't I?"

Max blurted out these words in a dogged tone, not deterred from
finishing his sentence by the fact that Dudley's face had grown white
and hard, and that over his whole attitude there had come a rapid
change.

There was a pause when the younger man had finished. Dudley kept his
eyes down, and traced a pattern on the table-cloth with a fork, while
Max looked at him furtively. At last Dudley looked up quickly and asked,
in a tone which admitted of no prevarication in the answer he demanded:

"You have been playing the spy upon me, I see. Tell me just how much you
saw."

It was such a straightforward way of coming to the point that Max, taken
aback, but rather thankful that the ground was to be cleared a little,
answered at once without reserve:

"I did play the spy. It was enough to make me. I saw the hansom waiting
outside your door last night; the cabman mistook me for you, and told me
the lady had walked away. I couldn't help putting that together with
what you had told me about seeing a friend off to Liverpool, and,
perhaps, going there yourself. Now, who could have helped it?"

Dudley did not at once answer. He just glanced inquiringly at the face
of Max while he went on tracing the pattern on the cloth.