"Yes." replied Brinn.
"I have been instructed to keep an eye on these chambers."
"Yes." repeated the high voice.
"Well, sir"—again he glanced rapidly about—"I don't want to intrude more than necessary, but a lady came in here about half an hour ago."
"Yes." drawled Brinn. "It's possible."
"It's a fact," declared the detective sergeant. "If it isn't troubling you too much, I should like to know that lady's name. Also, I should like a chat with her before she leaves."
""Can't be done." declared Xicol Brinn. "She isn't here."
"Then where is she?"
"I couldn't say. She went some time ago."
Stokes stood squarely before Nicol Brinn—a big, menacing figure; but he could not detect the slightest shadow of expression upon the other's impassive features. He began to grow angry. He was of that sanguine temperament which in anger acts hastily.
"Look here, sir." he said, and his dark face flushed. "You can't play tricks on me. I've got my duty to do, and I am going to do it. Ask your visitor to step in here, or I shall search the premises."
Nicol Brinn replaced his cigar in the right corner of his mouth: "Detective Sergeant Stokes. I give you my word that the lady to whom you refer is no longer in these chambers."
