Part 4 (2/2)

”Come in here,” went on McMurtrie. ”Don't bother about the car.” He turned back to me. ”Drink this,” he added, pouring out some more brandy into the wine-gla.s.s. I gulped it down and lay back again in my chair, tingling all through.

He took my wrist and felt my pulse for a moment. ”I know you are feeling bad,” he said, ”but we'll get your wet clothes off and put you to bed in a minute. You will be a different man in the morning.”

”That will be very convenient,” I observed faintly.

There was a noise of footsteps outside, the handle of the door turned, and a man--a huge bear of a man in a long Astrachan coat--strode heavily into the room. He was followed by a girl whose face was almost hidden behind a partly-turned-back motor veil. When they caught sight of me they both stopped abruptly.

”Who's this?” demanded the man.

Dr. McMurtrie made a graceful gesture towards me with his hand.

”Allow me,” he said, ”to introduce you. Monsieur and Mademoiselle Savaroff--our distinguished and much-sought-after friend Mr. Neil Lyndon.”

The big man gave a violent start, and with a little exclamation the girl stepped forward, turning back her veil. I saw then that she was remarkably handsome, in a dark, rather sullen-looking sort of way.

”You will excuse my getting up,” I said weakly. ”It doesn't seem to agree with me.”

”Mr. Lyndon,” explained the doctor, ”is fatigued. I was just proposing that he should go to bed when I heard the car.”

”How in the name of Satan did he get here?” demanded the other man, still staring at me in obvious amazement.

”He came in through the window with the intention of borrowing a little food. I had happened to see him in the garden, and being under the natural impression that he was--er--well, another friend of ours, I ventured to detain him.”

Savaroff gave a short laugh. ”But it's incredible,” he muttered.

The girl was watching me curiously. ”Poor man,” she exclaimed, ”he must be starving!”

”My dear Sonia,” said McMurtrie, ”you reflect upon my hospitality. Mr.

Lyndon has been faring sumptuously on bread and milk.”

”But he looks so wet and ill.”

”He is wet and ill,” rejoined the doctor agreeably. ”That is just the reason why I am going to ask you to heat some water and light a fire in the spare bedroom. We don't want to disturb Mrs. Weston at this time of night. I suppose the bed is made up?”

Sonia nodded. ”I think so. I'll go up and see anyhow.”

With a last glance at me she left the room, and Savaroff, taking off his coat, threw it across the back of a chair. Then he came up to where I was sitting.

”You don't look much like your pictures, my friend,” he said, unwinding the scarf that he was wearing round his neck.

”Under the circ.u.mstances,” I replied, ”that's just as well.”

He laughed again, showing a set of strong white teeth. ”Yes, yes.

But the clothes and the short hair--eh? They would take a lot of explaining away. It was fortunate for you you chose this house--very fortunate. You find yourself amongst friends here.”

I nodded.

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