"It's possible."
"It's a fact," declared the detective sergeant. "If it isn't
troubling you too much, I should like to know that lady's name.
Also, I should like a chat with her before she leaves."
"Can't be done," declared Nicol Brinn. "She isn't here."
"Then where is she?"
"I couldn't say. She went some time ago."
Stokes stood squarely before Nicol Brinn--a big, menacing figure;
but he could not detect the slightest shadow of expression upon
the other's impassive features. He began to grow angry. He was of
that sanguine temperament which in anger acts hastily.
"Look here, sir," he said, and his dark face flushed. "You can't
play tricks on me. I've got my duty to do, and I am going to do
it. Ask your visitor to step in here, or I shall search the
premises."
Nicol Brinn replaced his cigar in the right corner of his mouth:
"Detective Sergeant Stokes, I give you my word that the lady to
whom you refer is no longer in these chambers."
Stokes glared at him angrily. "But there is no other way out," he
blustered.
"I shall not deal with this matter further," declared Brinn,
coldly. "I may have vices, but I never was a liar."
"Oh," muttered the detective sergeant, taken aback by the cold
incisiveness of the speaker. "Then perhaps you will lead the way,
as I should like to take a look around."
Nicol Brinn spread his feet more widely upon the hearthrug.
"Detective Sergeant Stokes," he said, "you are not playing the
game.
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