“You can do that as it is!” Morrison exclaimed feverishly. “You must promise me something—promise that if any one asks for me to-morrow before I get away, you will not tell them where I am. Say you suppose that I am at my rooms, or that I have gone into the country for a few days. Say that you are expecting me back. Don’t let any one know that I have gone abroad, until I am safely away. And then don’t tell a soul where I have gone.”
“Have you been up to any tricks with your friends?” Laverick asked sternly.
“I haven’t—I swear that I haven’t,” Morrison declared. “It’s something quite outside business—quite outside business altogether.”
“Very well,” answered Laverick, “I will promise what you have asked, then. Listen—here is your sister back again,” he added, as he heard the taxicab stop outside. “Pull yourself together and don’t frighten her so much. I am going down to meet her. I shall tell her that you are better. Try and buck up when she comes in to see you.”
“I’ll do my best,” Morrison said humbly. “If you knew! If you only knew!”
He began to sob again. Laverick left the room and, descending the stairs, met the girl in the hall. Her white face questioned him before her lips had time to frame the speech.
“Your brother is very much better,” Laverick said. “I am sure that you need not be anxious about him.”
“I am so glad,” she murmured. “They let me off but I had to pay a fine. I had no idea before that I was so important. Shall I go to him now?”
“One moment,” Laverick answered, holding open the door of the sitting-room. “Miss Morrison,” he went on,—
“Miss Leneveu is my name,” she interrupted.