"He did not give me his name, Monsieur, but he said his business with you was important, and that he would wait."
"Where is he?"
"In the little salon, Monsieur. He preferred it to the lounge he said, as being more private."
Derek nodded, and turned his steps in that direction.
The small salon was empty except for the visitor, who rose and bowed with easy foreign grace as Derek entered. As it chanced, Derek had seen the Comte de la Roche only once, but found no difficulty in recognizing that aristocratic nobleman, and he frowned angrily. Of all the consummate impertinence!
"The Comte de la Roche, is it not?" he said. "I am afraid you have wasted your time in coming here."
"I hope not," said the Comte agreeably. His white teeth glittered.
The Comte's charm of manner was usually wasted on his own sex. All men, without exception, disliked him heartily. Derek Kettering was already conscious of a distinct longing to kick the Count bodily out of the room. It was only the realization that scandal would be unfortunate just at present that restrained him. He marvelled anew that Ruth could have cared, as she certainly had, for this fellow. A bounder, and worse than a bounder. He looked with distaste at the Count's exquisitely manicured hands.
"I called," said the Comte, "on a little matter of business. It would be advisable, I think, for you to listen to me."
Again Derek felt strongly tempted to kick him out, but again he refrained. The hint of a threat was not lost upon him, but he interpreted it in his own way. There were various reasons why it would be better to hear what the Comte had to say.