The man who stood by the desk turned to him. The others were stricken dumb.
“Look here,” he said, “there’s some mistake. You told me to come here at eight o’clock to meet a young lady whom I used to know. Well, I never saw her before in my life,” he added, pointing to Maud. “There’s a man there who wants to arrest me—Lord knows what for! And here’s Miss Brown, whom I have seen at the theatre several times but who never condescended to speak to me before, telling me not to shoot! What’s it all about, Ruff? Is it a practical joke?”
Peter Ruff laid down his coat and hat, and sat upon the table with his hands in his pockets.
“Is it possible,” he said, “that I have made a mistake? Isn’t your second name Spencer?”
The man shook his head.
“My name is James Fitzgerald,” he said. “I haven’t missed a day at the Shaftesbury Theatre for three years, as you can find out by going round the corner. I never called myself Spencer, I was never clerk in a bookshop, and I never saw that lady before in my life.”
Maud came out from her place against the wall, and leaned eagerly forward. John Dory turned his head slowly towards his wife. A sickening fear had arisen in his heart—gripped him by the throat. Fooled once more, and by Peter Ruff!
“It isn’t Spencer!” Maud said huskily. “Mr. Ruff,” she added, turning to him, “you know very well that this is not the Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald whom you promised to bring here to-night—Mr. Spencer Fitzgerald to whom I was once engaged.”
Peter Ruff pointed to the figure of her husband.
“Madam,” he said, “my invitation did not include your husband.”