CHAPTER 9Lady Moron was talking.
“A detective? Really, I don’t see why you should be worried about detectives, Chesney. You are not, I hope, a member of the criminal classes?”
“Of course I’m not,” he said brusquely, almost rudely, “but I loathe this fellow. His name’s Dorn—Michael Dorn. He is the only private detective in England who is worth twopence. They call him into Scotland Yard for consultations; they think so much of him. He was the fellow that organised the raid on the Limbo Club, and he tried to get a conviction against me for being one of the proprietors, which of course I wasn’t.”
Michael Dorn had passed out of sight now, and the girl was thankful that their interest had been so concentrated upon his hateful presence that they had not noticed her; otherwise she must have bet
