"It is late," he remarked casually; "shall we say good-night, M. de St. Genis?"
The sound of the Englishman's voice seemed to startle Maurice out of his reverie. He pulled himself together, walked firmly up to the table and resting his hand upon it, he faced the other man with a sudden gaze made up partly of suddenly conceived resolve and partly of lingering shamefacedness.
"Mr. Clyffurde," he began abruptly.
"Yes?"
"Have you any cause to hate me?"
"Why no," replied Clyffurde with his habitual good-humoured smile. "Why should I have?"
"Have you any cause to hate Mlle. Crystal de Cambray?"
"Certainly not."
"You have no desire," insisted Maurice, "to be revenged on her for the slight which she put upon you the other night?"
His voice had grown more steady and his look more determined as he put these rapid questions to Clyffurde, whose expressive face showed no sign of any feeling in response save that of complete and indifferent puzzlement.