It won't take long.' Drake laid down his hat and seated himself opposite to Mr.Le Mesurier.
'My daughter told me this morning, quite spontaneously, of course, that she had asked you to call in order that she might get from you a certain answer to a certain question, and I thought that I had better prepare you for what that question will be.' He hesitated in his speech, searching for the best way to begin his explanation, and he caught sight of a cigar-box on the mantelshelf above his head.
'By the way, do you smoke ?' 'Yes, but I won't just now, thank you.' 'You had better.

You can throw it away when I have done.

These are in rather a good condition.' Mr.Le Mesurier seemed inclined to branch off upon the quality of different brands, but Drake gave him no assistance.

He lit his cigar and patiently waited, his eyes fixed upon his host.

Mr.Le Mesurier felt driven back upon the actual point of his explanation, and almost compelled to fine his words down to just the needful quantity.
'Clarice, I believe,' he said brusquely, 'means to ask you how Gorley died.