The young man favoured Lane with a very prolonged stare which the detective bore without flinching. He had made up his mind as to his course of action if things got troublesome, if young Mr. Brookes adopted a threatening attitude. He would disclaim the valet’s ingenious fiction about the picture-dealing, boldly proclaim who he was, admit he had made use of Simmons to learn what he could about his master, and tell the young gentleman himself he knew him for the impostor he was. Still, he did not wish to push matters to extremes, to take a step which would put the two men on their guard. He would only do all this as a very last resource. Meanwhile, he would trust to diplomacy to get out of the awkward situation in which he had been placed by the valet’s extreme cowardice. “So you are in the picture line, are you?” said Brookes at length; and Lane thought there was a slight sneer on the good-looking, rather effeminate face, which the detective did not allow himself to be ruffled by. “Was,” answered the other, backing up the valet’s mendacious statement so far. “Been out of it for many years, but still retain my old fondness for good stuff.” He spoke in his most stolid manner, assuming the rôle of a small tradesman quite successfully. “And what might be your line now, pray?” The tone was just a trifle insolent. There was no doubt the young man could be a bit of a bully when he liked, and Lane was quite sure that the undeniably gentlemanly appearance was only veneer. Sellars had told him that he was considered rather a bounder. Lane had told one lie, in order to bolster up things; it would not hurt him very much to tell another. “I’m in the furniture business now,” he exclaimed briefly. Young Brookes looked hard from one man to the other. He did not appear quite satisfied; on the other hand, he did not seem quite certain of the grounds on which he could express his suspicions. “I shouldn’t think much of the thing in an ordinary kind of way,” he said in a hesitating voice. “‘When the cat’s away the mice will play,’ and of course servants have their friends in when their masters and mistresses are safely out of the road. I don’t say it isn’t all square and above-board, but Simmons here looks in such a devilish funk that one might be pardoned if one thought you had been burgling the place.” What had crossed his mind was out at last. Lane drew himself up with a stolid air of offended dignity. “I’m rather thinking you mean that as a kind of joke, sir. If I didn’t, I might remind you that there is such a thing as an action for defamation of character.” He delivered these words with a splendid air of outraged virtue which, he was pleased to observe, rather cowed the impetuous young man. “As my presence seems unwelcome, I will take the liberty of wishing you good evening, unless you would wish me to stay while you go through Sir George’s property to satisfy yourself that I haven’t helped myself to anything.”