“Mais voil`, un fou!” and to this day he considers Roger Deane the very type of a maniac.
Mary and John descended. As soon as they appeared Dora jumped up from her seat and ran towards John, crying, “Oh, Mr. Ashforth!”
While Charlie, advancing more timidly to Mary, murmured: “Forgive me, but—”
Mary with a slight bow, John with a lift of his hat, both without a halt or a word, passed through the room, arm-in-arm, and vanished from Mr. Painter’s establishment.
Sir Roger had seized on Laing’s champagne and was pouring it out. He stopped now, and looked at Dora. A sudden gleam of intelligence glanced from her eyes. Rushing up to him, she whispered, “You did it all? It was all a hoax?”
He nodded.
“And why?”
“Ask Charlie Ellerton,” he answered.
“Oh, but Mr. Ashforth and Mary Travers are so angry!”
“With one another?”