“He is my enemy,” he said. “Nothing would make him happier than to have the power to strike a blow like this, and to identify us with the place in any way.”
“I don’t see how they could do that,” she said meditatively. “I should be the poor sufferer, I suppose, and you may be sure I shouldn’t be like that other girl, who gave you away. You are not afraid of that, are you, Bertrand? Things are different between us. We are engaged to be married. You do not forget that, Bertrand?”
“Of course I do not,” he answered.
“Well,” she said, “we won’t talk about the past. You are safe so far as I am concerned—for the present, at any rate. But Madame must know, and your friends in Charing Cross Road.”
“We will close the office to-morrow for a little time,” Saton declared. “It’s no use running risks like this.”
“The old lady must have made a tidy pile out of it,” Violet declared, flourishing an over-scented handkerchief. “If she takes my advice, she will go quiet for a little time. I can feel trouble when it’s about, and I have felt it the last few days.”
“It is very good of you, Violet, to have sent for me at once,” he said. “I know you won’t mind if I hurry away. It is very important that I see Madame.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But when will you take me out to dinner? To-night or to-morrow night?”
“To-morrow night,” he promised, eager to escape. “If anything happens that I can’t, I’ll let you know.”
She laid her hand upon his arm as they descended the stairs.