As Bansemer arose to say good-night to the others, Harbert's eyes met his with deadly directness.
"Where are your offices, Mr. Bansemer?" asked the New Yorker. There was something significant in the question.
"Mr. Rigby and I have offices in the same building," he replied. "Will you come in and see me?"
"I shall try," said the other.
To have saved his life, Bansemer could not meet David Cable's questioning eyes as he shook hands with him. Cable's hands were like ice.
Outside the house, in the whirling gale, the tall lawyer breathed easier, but not securely. His brain was clogged with doubts, fears, prophecies--all whirling like mad around the ominous figure of Denis Harbert.
Suddenly, he stopped stockstill, the bitter scowl deepening in his eyes. With an oath he turned abruptly and hurried in the opposite direction. The time had come to make ready for battle. A few minutes later, he was writing the note which created so much commotion in the home of Elias Droom.