“On the whole, I cannot say that I am surprised to hear it,” Wolfenden remarked; “but I certainly think that, considering the form his madness takes, you ought to protect yourself in some way.”
Mr. Sabin shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
“He can never hurt me. I carry a talisman which is proof against any attempt that he can make; but none the less, I must confess that your aid last night was very welcome.”
“I was very pleased to be of any service,” Wolfenden said, “especially,” he added, glancing toward Mr. Sabin’s niece, “since it has given me the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
A little thrill passed through him. Her delicately-curved lips were quivering as though with amusement, and her eyes had fallen; she had blushed slightly at that unwitting, ardent look of his. Mr. Sabin’s cold voice recalled him to himself.
“I believe,” he said, “that I overheard your name correctly. It is Wolfenden, is it not?”
Wolfenden assented.
“I am sorry that I haven’t a card,” he said. “That is my name.”
Mr. Sabin looked at him curiously.