"I won't ask to-night what you wanted me for," he said, easily. "I am rather battered and sleepy; we shall talk better to-morrow."
"You can set my mind at rest on one point, at any rate," rejoined Elizabeth, whose face burned with a feverish-looking flush. "It is, of course, a mistake that you knew a week ago of Brian Luttrell being in London?"
"Oh, of course," said Percival. But the irony in his voice was too plain for her to be deceived by it.
"Did you know, Percival?"
"Well, if you must have the plain truth," he said, sitting up and examining the end of his cigar with much attention, "I did."
She was silent. He raised his eyes, apparently with some effort, to her face; saw there a rather shocked and startled look, and rushed immediately into vehement speech.
"What if I did! Do you expect me to rush to you with every disturbing report I hear? I did not see this man, Brian Luttrell; I should not know him if I did—as Brian Luttrell, at any rate. I merely heard the story from a—an acquaintance of mine——"
"Dino Vasari," said Elizabeth.
"Oh, I see you know the facts. There is no need for me to say any more. Of course, you attach no weight to any reasons I might have for silence."
"Indeed, I do, Percival; or I should do, if I knew what they were."