"Some playing cards," Wingate directed, suddenly breaking into speech. "Open that sideboard, Grant. Bring out the sandwiches and biscuits and fruit. That's right. And some glasses. Open the champagne quickly. Cigars, too. Here--shut the door. We must have a moment or two at this. You understand, Grant---a debauch!" The two moved about like lightning. In an incredibly short time, the room presented a strange appearance. The table before which the three men had kept their weary vigil was littered all over with playing cards, cigar ash, fragments of broken wine glasses. A half-empty bottle of champagne stood on the floor. Two empty ones, their contents emptied into some bowls of flowers, lay on their sides. Another pack of cards was scattered upon the carpet. A chair was overturned. There was every indication of a late-night sitting and a debauch. Last of all, Grant and Wingate between them carried the body of Lord Dredlinton behind the screen and laid it upon the sofa. Then the latter stood back and surveyed his work. "That will do," he said. "Wait one moment, Grant, before you show the inspector in. I have a word to say first to my two friends here." Phipps scowled across the table, heavy-eyed and sullen. There were black lines under his eyes, in which the gleam of hunger still lurked. His hands were gripping a chunk of the bread which he had torn away from the loaf, but which he had seemed to eat with difficulty. "Your friends may have something to say to you," he muttered. "If you think to stop our tongues, you're wrong--wrong, I tell you. The game's up for you, Wingate. The wires that are ruining us this morning will be telling of your arrest to-night, eh?" "You may be right," Wingate answered coolly, "but I doubt it. Listen. Do you believe that I am a man who keeps his word?" "Go on," Phipps muttered. "You are quite right in all that you have been saying, up to a certain point. Tell the truth and I am done for, but you pay the price, both of you. Under those circumstances, will it be worth your while to tell the truth?" "What do you mean?" Rees demanded. Phipps made a movement to rise. "I am faint," he cried. "Give me some wine." Wingate filled two tumblers with champagne and gave one to each. The effect upon Phipps was remarkable. The colour came back into his cheeks, his tone gathered strength. "What do you mean?" he echoed, "Worth our while?--Why the devil don't they bring the man in? You'll see!" "Inspector Shields will no doubt insist upon coming in," Wingate replied. "I gather from his visit that he is on the right track at last. But listen. If I am going to be arrested on a charge of abduction and manslaughter, as seems exceedingly probable, I am not going to leave my job half done. An English jury may call it murder if I shoot you two as you sit. I'll risk that. If I am going to get into trouble for one of you, I'll make sure of the lot."