I've just fifteen minutes to spare." "You can do as you please.

I've nothing to hide--from you, at any rate." Which wasn't quite true; but Sweetwater wasn't a stickler for truth, except in the statements he gave his superiors.
Hexford threw open the stable-door, and they both walked in.

The coachman was not visible, but they could hear him moving about above, grumbling to himself in none too encouraging a way.
Evidently he was in no mood for visitors.
"I'll be down in a minute," he called out, as their steps sounded on the hardwood floor.
Hexford sauntered over to the stalls.

Sweetwater stopped near the doorway and glanced very carefully about him.

Nothing seemed to escape his eye.
He even took the trouble to peer into a waste-bin, and was just on the point of lifting down a bit of broken bottle from an open cupboard when Brown appeared on the staircase, dressed in his Sunday coat and carrying a bunch of fresh, hot-house roses.
He stopped midway as Sweetwater turned towards him from the cupboard, but immediately resumed his descent and was ready with his reply when Hexford accosted him from the other end of the stable: "An odd beast, this.