'Nothing except that when I was in here an hour ago I saw Miss de Freyne's face at the window of that empty suite next to yours,' he said.
Mr. Somers-Keyne rose to his feet. A splendid dignity guided his footsteps and kept his voice steady.
'Sir,' he pronounced, 'I am able to surmise now the reason for your excessive hospitality. I wish you good morning!'
He turned towards the door.
'Mr. Somers-Keyne,' Lavendale began, rising hastily to his feet——
The dramatist waved him away. His gesture, if a little theatrical, was final. The honours remained with him....
Lavendale, a few minutes later, on his way to his luncheon-table in the grill-room, threw his accustomed glance across the room towards the corner which was still possessed of a peculiar interest for him. He paused in the act of taking his place. At her same table, with a little pile of manuscript propped up in front of her, Miss de Freyne was seated, studying the luncheon menu. For a moment he hesitated. Then he rose to his feet and, crossing the room, addressed her.
'Miss de Freyne!'
She glanced up in some surprise. She seemed, indeed, scarcely to recognize him.
'You have not forgotten me, I hope?' he continued. 'My name is Lavendale.'