The outburst which was not entirely unexpected to Labar, seemed to annoy Larry Hughes. "Keep quiet, you! When I want your advice I'll ask for it." He snarled fiercely at the woman as though she were a petulant child. "Listen, Mr. Labar," he went on in lighter tone. "If you're reckoning on friend Malone butting in on this seance, or sneaking away to get help, you've got another guess coming. Mr. Malone is chewing the cud under some sacks in an outhouse and a length of line wrapped well and truly round him to prevent him straying. There's no one else likely to interrupt us." The detective folded his arms. As Mrs. Gertstein said he had been playing for time, and Larry had put his finger on the reason. There was no perceptible change in his face. He still held an attitude of contemptuous indifference. He knew that he was in a tight fix. That the woman would not hesitate at murder he had proof. Of Larry he was not so sure. That gentleman would not run the risk of putting his neck in a noose at the dictate of panic. If he killed it would be after calculation, and because there was no other way that would ensure his safety. He was sure that Larry was not alone, but he could not guess how many were with him. Even if Malone was a prisoner there was no harm in continuing to stall for time. All the servants of the house could not be accomplices, and in time they must become aware of the queerness of what was going on. He could not know that six of them were penned in the servants' hall, with Tom the thin-faced valet, keeping guard, armed like Larry with a wicked little automatic. "I'm in no hurry," he said serenely. "I hope that you haven't hurt Malone much, for the sake of ensuring this private conversation. By the way, what are you leading up to? You've got something else in view beyond amusing yourself with light and airy persiflage at my expense." Larry nodded. "You are an embarrassment, Mr. Labar. I had a faint hope that I might reach here in front of you, in which case I might have avoided having to deal with you--somehow." He laid grim stress on the last word. "I gather that Adèle here, has talked. That may be singularly unfortunate for both of us." "For you," amended Labar grimly. He could not resist a little touch of brag although he knew it was dangerous. "I have got the ends in my hand, Larry, and when I have followed them up it will be difficult for you to wriggle out. You've had to come out in the open, and you know what that means in the long run. Why don't you use your brains, man? Take your medicine now and get it over. You might perhaps, get away with seven years, if you helped us to get back the Gertstein things."