nor inviting them to do so

"You'd better come in here," he said curtly, leading the way into a small office that opened out of the yard. It contained a high desk and stool, suitable for the yard porter who usually occupied it. There was a dirty grate, with a teapot among the ashes of the fender. Beside the grate, there was an almost equally dirty chair. Beyond it, an inner door. The driver followed at once. Irene hesitated, being annoyed by the curt words, which were order rather than request. But she saw the folly of making difficulties over such points as that. She was here to hear and observe all she could. Neither seating himself, nor inviting them to do so, Snack lit turned to the driver. "Now, my man, what was the fare?" "There was four-and-three on the clock." "Very well. Here's five. Now tell me who hired you, and what you know of this lady." "I don't know nothing more than that she stopped me near Clissold Street, and told me to drive after you." "Anyone with her?" "Not wot I saw." "Very well. You'd better stay here. Miss Whatever-yourname-is, you can come with me." The man was the first to answer: "Beg pardon, sir. But I can't stay here. It's a loss of money to me." "You needn't worry about that." Snacklit turned his attention to Irene, staring with incredulous surprise at the answer she had now given. "I am Miss Thurlow. My father is the American Ambassador." "Then," he asked, "what are you doing here?" "I was forced to come here by you." "Why were you following me before that?" "I have told you once already." "It didn't make sense to me." "It was quite simple. I said - - " He interrupted: "We can t talk here. You d better come into the house."