The butler began to perspire.
“Verry good, sair . . . Monsieur will excuse me, but Monsieur is again’ ze door.”
“You can leave it open,” said Ivan comfortably. “I’m not here to steal.”
The butler took a deep breath.
“Mademoiselle ’as gommanded——”
“No doubt,” said Ivan drily. “Tell her that I prevented you. Tell her I said that if you tried to shut it I should tell my servants to put you in the road.”
The butler looked round wildly. Then he caught Ivan’s eye and blenched. Finally, after one frightful spasm of irresolution, he flung up despairing palms and staggered into the hall.
A flurry of furious whispering came to Pomeroy’s ears.
Then the butler returned, with starting eyes.
“Mademoiselle regrets that she cannot see you, sair.”