"
"You are a house-agent, are you not?" asked Rupert.
To the delight of that criminal investigator, Mr Montmorency's eyes
wandered unquietly towards Lieutenant Keith, the only man present
that he knew.
"A house-agent," cried Rupert again, bringing out the word as if it
were "burglar'.
"Yes . . . oh, yes," said the man, with a quavering and almost
coquettish smile. "I am a house-agent . . . oh, yes."
"Well, I think," said Rupert, with a sardonic sleekness, "that
Lieutenant Keith wants to speak to you. We have come in by his
request."
Lieutenant Keith was lowering gloomily, and now he spoke.
"I have come, Mr Montmorency, about that house of mine."
"Yes, sir," said Montmorency, spreading his fingers on the flat
counter. "It's all ready, sir. I've attended to all your
suggestions er--about the br--"
"Right," cried Keith, cutting the word short with the startling
neatness of a gunshot. "We needn't bother about all that. If
you've done what I told you, all right."
And he turned sharply towards the door.
Mr Montmorency, House-Agent, presented a picture of pathos. After
stammering a moment he said: "Excuse me . . . Mr Keith . . . there
was another matter . . . about which I wasn't quite sure. I tried
to get all the heating apparatus possible under the circumstances
.
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