fist unclenched, and he stole a look at the girl. She was in her favourite attitude on the sofa, and had not even looked up.
"I suppose that it is quite useless for me to argue with you," said Peterson after a while.
"I was a member of my school debating society," remarked Hugh reminiscently. "But I was never much good. I'm too obvious for argument, I'm afraid."
"You probably realise from what has happened to-night," continued Peterson, "that I am in earnest."
"I should be sorry to think so," answered Hugh. "If that is the best you can do, I'd cut it right out and start a tomato farm."
The girl gave a little gurgle of laughter and lit another cigarette.
"Will you come and do the dangerous part of the work for us, Monsieur Hugh?" she asked.
"If you promise to restrain the little fellows, I'll water them with pleasure," returned Hugh lightly.
Peterson rose and walked over to the window, where he stood motionless staring out into the darkness. For all his assumed flippancy, Hugh realised that the situation was what in military phraseology might be termed critical. There were in the house probably half a dozen men who, like their master, were absolutely unscrupulous. If it suited Peterson's book to kill him, he would not hesitate to do so for a single second. And Hugh realised, when he put it that way in his own mind, that it was no exaggeration, no façon de parler, but a plain, unvarnished statement of fact. Peterson would no more think twice of killing
