"Why?" demanded Watchel.
"That I can explain when I recognise the necessity for doing so."
Watchel made a sign to the white-faced woman who stood so intently watching them.
"Get this man out of here," he commanded.
"That," was Kestner's easy retort, "may not be as simple as it appears."
Watchel threw back the silk-lined cape of his Inverness. Then he went to the door and opened it. Having done that, he took out a time-piece of heavily embossed gold.
"I will give you three minutes," he calmly announced. "Three minutes and no more!"
"And then?" suggested Kestner. The dull glow that burned through his body forewarned him that all his old fighting blood was again being stirred into life. It was the voice of Maura Lambert that broke the silence.
"Please go!" she timorously implored. The unlooked for note of anxiety in her voice made Kestner swing sharply about on her.
"You want me to?" he demanded, staring at her colourless face.
"Yes," she answered.
She did not look at him. She was staring intently at Watchel, as a child stares into an unlighted room through which it must pass.
"Then you'll tell me why," insisted Kestner. He was still further perplexed by her unconscious gesture of despair, by the tragic light in her troubled eyes.
"Tell him!" was Watchel's curt command.
