"I don't mind. He can't do me more harm than he's done already. It's not of him that I'm thinking, but of Dorothea. She hasn't come."
"No, she hasn't come."
The fact had grown alarming, so much so as to make the incident of Bienville's appearance seem in comparison a matter of little moment. Diane remained on the threshold of her room, and Derek in the hail outside, while, for mutual encouragement, they rehearsed once more the list of predicaments in which the young people might have found themselves without serious danger.
Diane was about to withdraw, when a man ran down the hall calling:
"The telephone!—for the gentleman!"
Derek started on a run, Diane following more slowly. When she reached the office Derek had the receiver to his ear and was talking.
"Yes, Fulton. Go on. I hear.... Who has rung you up?... I didn't catch ... Miss—who? Oh, Miss Marion Grimston. Yes?... In Philadelphia, at the Hotel Belleville.... Yes; I understand ... and Miss Dorothea is with her.... Good! ... Did she say how she got there?... Will explain when we get back to New York to-morrow morning.... All right.... Yes, to lunch.... She said Miss Dorothea was quite well, and satisfied with her trip!... That's good.... Well, good-night, Fulton. Sorry to have kept you up."
He put up the receiver and turned to Diane.
"Did you understand?"
"Perfectly. I think I know what has happened. I can guess."