François watched and marvelled. "Did you meet your brother?" Ronnie was drying his eyes and smiling faintly at the valet's grotesque dismay. "Yes, M'sieur, I hope that m'sieur was not inconvenienced--" Ronnie shook his head. "No--make me something. Coffee or tea--anything--have you brought your brother here?" "Oh, no, M'sieur." "You will want to see him, François. You may take the rest of the day off." "Certainly, M'sieur," said François, recovering himself. His services were seldom dispensed with until later in the day. Possibly his employer had excellent reason. Ronnie did not hear the bell ring and until he caught the click of the lock and the sound of voices in the lobby, he had no idea that he had a caller. François came in alone, secretive, low-voiced. "It is Mister East, M'sieur: Yesterday was the day, but m'sieur forgot," he said mysteriously. "Yesterday was--what day?" Ronnie rubbed his chin with a knuckle. How stupid of him to forget! "Ask him to come in please." François hesitated, but went, returning with a thin young man whose face seemed all angles and bosses. He was well dressed, a little too well dressed. His plastered hair was parted and one fringe curled like a wave of black ink that had been petrified just as it was in the act of breaking on the yellow beach of his forehead. He had a way of holding back his head so that he looked down his nose in whatever direction his gaze was turned. "Morning," he said coldly and cleared his throat. "Good morning?" Ronnie's tone was polite but inquisitive. "I called yesterday but nobody was in," said Mr. East, gently stern. "Why did you call at all?" asked Ronnie. A look of amazement toning to righteous anger from Mr. East. "Why did I call at all?" he repeated. "To give you a chance of actin' the man; to collect what is due to a poor girl that was--" "To commit blackmail, in fact?" smiled Ronnie. (He was quick to smile today.) "Eh?" "I remember--I have given you money every week, ostensibly for your sister. Tell her to come and see me." "What! Her come to see you? In this, what I might term, den of iniquity? No! I don't allow you to see the poor girl. And as for blackmail, didn't you, of your own free will, offer to pay?" Mr. East had grown red in the face, he was indignant, hurt, and soon would be pugnacious. Ronnie got to his feet and the listening François heard the door open. "Get out, please," said Ronnie pleasantly. "I don't wish to hurt you--but get out." The man was speechless. "I am going to a lawyer," he blustered, "I won't soil my hands with you." "I think you are very wise," said Ronnie and closed the door on him. On the mat outside, Mr. East stood for at least five minutes thinking, or trying to think. "He's been drinking!" he said hollowly, and, had he consulted Parker, his suspicions would have received support. François heard his employer's summons and came from his tiny compartment. "I am going out," said Ronnie.