In a very little while, he told himself, the truth must
come out. His only chance was to try and bluff his way out of
this appalling dilemma and above all, at all costs--this was the
essential fact which, he told himself, he must keep steadfastly
before his eyes--not to lose sight of Mortimer whatever happened.
Bellward's voice--and its tones showed Desmond what an
accomplished mime Crook had been--broke the silence.
"I have nothing to explain," he said, turning from the sofa where
he had been exchanging a few words in an undertone with Mrs.
Malplaquet, "this is my house. That is sufficient explanation for
my presence here, I imagine. But I confess I am curious to know
what this person"--he indicated Desmond--"is doing in my clothes,
if I mistake not, giving what I take to be a very successful
impersonation of myself."
Then Desmond stepped boldly out of the shadow into the circle of
light thrown by the lamp.
"I don't know what you all think," he said firmly, but it seems
to me singularly unwise for us to stand here gossiping when there
is a stranger amongst us. I fail to understand the motive of this
gentleman in breaking into my house by my private door, wearing
my clothes, if I am to believe my eyes; but I clearly realize the
danger of admitting strangers to a gathering of this kind.
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