The young man picked up his hat.

He was still hot with anger.

Maraton pointed to the room on the threshold of which the girl was still standing.
"If you wish to speak to me," he said, "I am quite at your service.
Only it is a little late for a visit, isn't it?
And yours seems to be a rather unceremonious way, of insisting upon it.

Who are you ?" The young man stood and stared at his questioner.

He was wearing a blue serge suit, obviously ready-made, thick boots, a doubtful collar, a machine-knitted silk tie of vivid colour.