No. 13 and Behrend makes four and myself,
five!"
"And Madame Nur-el-Din?" queried Desmond innocently, but inwardly
quaking at his rashness.
Mortimer genially shook a finger at him.
"Sly dog!" he chuckled, "you're one too many for me in that
quarter, I see! I know all about your tete-a-tete with our
charming young friend this afternoon!"
Desmond felt the blood rush to his face. He thought of
Nur-el-Din's words: "Mortimer sees and knows all." He picked up
his sherry glass and drained it to cover his confusion.
"... It was hardly gallant of you to bolt so suddenly and leave
the lady!" Mortimer added.
How much did this uncanny creature know?
Without waiting for him to reply, Mortimer went on.
"I suppose she told you a long story of my persecution, eh,
Bellward? You needn't shake your head. I taxed her with it and
she admitted as much."
"I had no idea that you were staying at the Dyke Inn!" said
Desmond at a venture.
"My friend," replied Mortimer, lowering his voice, "your fair
charmer is showing a decided inclination to make a nuisance of
herself. I have had to keep an eye on her. It's been a very
serious inconvenience to my plans, I can assure you. But you
haven't answered my question. What sent you away in such a hurry
this afternoon? and in so romantic a fashion? By the window, was
it not?"
Through sheer apprehension, Desmond was now keyed up to a kind of
desperate audacity.
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