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A little, wriggling man, with shifty eyes and a white set face, sat opposite to David Delamere, and whined for mercy on account of his family. Beard stood with his back to the fireplace, a smile of contempt on his face. Whatever happened, he was not likely to show his feelings.
Cardrew was sullen and moody, Madame Regnier cold and distant. But there was a hard glitter in her eyes, and a suggestive movement of her fingers, as if she wished she had a dagger in them, so that she could plunge it into the heart of David Delamere. Altogether, it was an interesting group gathered together in the farmhouse parlour. The whole story had been told; there was no reply from the miscreants.