Beaumanoir’s sense of humor, ever present, but of late repressed by stress of circumstances, broke out at the efforts of this man, who spoke with a pronounced American accent, and who, he was persuaded, was there with murderous intent, to sustain the rôle of an English gentleman. He had not forgotten that other and more furtive footstep under the window, but he could not resist the sport of leading this rascal on. The mood had seized him to avoid being killed if he could; but, if that were not possible, to extract all available fun out of the process. And it might serve either of these contingencies to lead his adversary into the belief that he was not being imposed on by all this specious posing.
“Yes, I was in the 8.45,” he replied, looking the other squarely in the face. “You joined it at Elstree, I think. I noticed you because a man who was found under the seat of my compartment got into yours at Radlett, and I saw you leaving the train with him after the accident.”
For the fraction of a second the man failed to control the answering defiance of his eyes, but he got a grip of himself soon enough to prevent a premature explosion. “Really?” he
[187]
