"I have not," said Peterson shortly, eyeing the swaying figure in front of him contemptuously.
"Where is he?"
"Perhaps if you ask your daughter's friend Captain Drummond, he might tell you. For Heaven's sake sit down, man, before you fall down." He pushed Benton roughly into a chair, and resumed his impassive stare into the darkness.
The girl took not the slightest notice of the new arrival who gazed stupidly at Drummond across the table.
"We seem to be moving in an atmosphere of cross-purposes, Mr. Benton," said the soldier affably. "Our host will not get rid of the idea that I am a species of bandit. I hope your daughter is quite well."
"Er—quite, thank you," muttered the other.
"Tell her, will you, that I propose to call on her before returning to London to-morrow. That is, if she won't object to my coming early.'
With his hands in his pockets, Peterson was regarding Drummond from the window.
"You propose leaving us to-morrow, do you?" he said quietly.
Drummond stood up.
"I ordered my car for ten o'clock," he answered. "I hope that will not upset the household arrangements," he continued, turning to the girl, who was laughing softly and polishing her nails.
"Vraiment! But you grow on one, my Hugh," she smiled. "Are we really losing you so soon?"
"I am quite sure that I shall be more useful to Mr. Peterson at large, than I am cooped up here,"
