"You? But Lady Elisabeth—? But you, Mr. Maraton—are you really the man who mur—who was associated with all that trouble in Chicago?"
"I am, without a doubt, the man," Maraton assented cheerfully. "I am an enemy of your class, Mrs. Bollington-Watts. Your husband is the steel millionaire, isn't he? And I am also a Socialist of the most militant and modern type. Nevertheless, I can assure you, for these few moments you are perfectly safe."
Mrs. Bollington-Watts drew a little breath. The remarkable adaptability of her race came to her rescue; her point of view swung round.
"Why," she declared, "I have never been so interested in my life. This is perfectly thrilling. Mr. Maraton, I am having a few friends come in to-morrow evening. I should dearly love to give them a surprise. Couldn't you just drop in for an hour? Or, better still, if you could dine? I have taken Lenchester House for a year. My, it would be good to see their faces!"
Maraton shook his head.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Bollington-Watts," he said, "but my visit to England is one of business only. To be frank with you, I have no social existence, nor any desire to cultivate one."
"But you know Lady Elisabeth," the little woman protested.
"I have the honour of knowing Lady Elisabeth incidentally," Maraton replied. "If you will excuse me now—"
Mrs. Bollington-Watts turned aside to talk vigorously to a passer-by.
Lady Elisabeth laid her hand upon his arm.
"Mr. Maraton," she said softly, "do make up your mind. Please come to
Lyndwood."