"Hop it!" instructed Brian, jerking his thumb over his shoulder--and
Mrs. Brian obediently disappeared, closing the door.

"Now," said Dunbar, looking the man up and down, "have you been into the
depot, to-day?"

"No."

"But you have heard that there's an inquiry?"

"I've heard nothing. I've been in bed."

"We won't argue about that. I'll simply put a question to you: Where
did you pick up the fare that you dropped at Palace Mansions at twelve
o'clock last night?"

"Palace Mansions!" muttered Brian, shifting uneasily beneath the
unflinching stare of the tawny eyes. "What d'you mean? What Palace
Mansions?"

"Don't quibble!" warned Dunbar, thrusting out a finger at him. "This is
not a matter of a loss of license; it's a life job!"

"Life job!" whispered the man, and his weak face suddenly relaxed,
so that, oddly, the old refinement shone out through the new, vulgar
veneer.

"Answer my questions straight and square and I'll take your word that
you have not seen the inquiry!" said Dunbar.