affair. It occurred to him that there was a chance that his defection
had passed unnoticed. Nothing could make his case seem better in his
own eyes, but it might be that the thing would end there. The house
might not have lost credit.

An overwhelming curiosity seized him to find out how it had all ended.
The ten minutes of grace which followed the ringing of the lock-up bell
had passed. Drummond and the rest must be back by now.

He went down the passage to Drummond's study. Somebody was inside. He
could hear him.

He knocked at the door.

Drummond was sitting at the table reading. He looked up, and there was
a silence. Sheen's mouth felt dry. He could not think how to begin. He
noticed that Drummond's face was unmarked. Looking down, he saw that
one of the knuckles of the hand that held the book was swollen and cut.

"Drummond, I--"

Drummond lowered the book.

"Get out," he said. He spoke without heat, calmly, as if he were making
some conventional remark by way of starting a conversation.

"I only came to ask--"

"Get out," said Drummond again.