"Now we'll have coffee in the library, if you're ready," he said, in the
tone of a gentleman addressing his guests after a dinner party.
Shorthouse picked up the bag, which had lain all this time between his
feet, and walked through the door his host held open for him. Side by
side they crossed the dark hall together, and, to his disgust, Garvey
linked an arm in his, and with his face so close to the secretary's ear
that he felt the warm breath, said in a thick voice--
"You're uncommonly careful with that bag, Mr. Shorthouse. It surely must
contain something more than the bundle of papers."
"Nothing but the papers," he answered, feeling the hand burning upon his
arm and wishing he were miles away from the house and its abominable
occupants.
"Quite sure?" asked the other with an odious and suggestive chuckle. "Is
there any meat in it, fresh meat--raw meat?"
The secretary felt, somehow, that at the least sign of fear the beast on
his arm would leap upon him and tear him with his teeth.
"Nothing of the sort," he answered vigorously. "It wouldn't hold enough
to feed a cat.
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